#elmpaw

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 45

Weedfoot announces she is expecting her second litter.

[Image ID: Weedfoot tells Palepaw and Ripplepaw, “Don’t worry, you two. I’m still your mother.” Under her, it says + CONDITION: PREGNANT.]

(Weedfoot: 94, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(Palepaw: 11, female, mediator apprentice, insecure, picky nest builder, never sits still)

(Ripplepaw: 11, female, historian apprentice, charismatic, avid play-fighter, splashes in puddles)

Rattlepelt confessed her feelings to Wildclaw and they have become mates.

[Image ID: Rattlepelt says to Wildclaw, “I think I’m ready… ask me again, Wildclaw.” Under Wildclaw, it says + MATE: RATTLEPELT. Under Rattlepelt, it says + MATE: WILDCLAW.]

(Wildclaw: 37, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor)

(Rattlepelt: 28, female, artisan, fierce, leather artist)

Interested in herbs even in her kithood, Troutpaw is eagerly apprenticed to Fennelspot.

[Image ID: Troutpaw, in her apprentice sprite, faces Fennelspot, who says, “I hope I do right by you, Troutpaw.” Under Troutpaw, it says LEVEL UP! TROUTKIT -> TROUTPAW, INSECURE -> COMPASSIONATE.]

(Fennelspot: 102, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

(Troutpaw: 6, female, cleric apprentice, compassionate, morbid curiosity)

Shadowdrop’s kits are apprenticed. While Tempestpaw is eager to explore the territory, Mosspaw and Trumpetpaw’s thoughts are on their dead father. Their mentors are Carnationspeckle, Clammask, and Halibutdusk.

[Image ID: Tempestpaw, Mosspaw, and Trumpetpaw all have apprentice sprites. Under Tempestpaw, it says LEVEL UP! TEMPESTKIT -> TEMPESTPAW. Under Mosspaw, it says LEVEL UP! MOSSKIT -> MOSSPAW, BULLYING -> SHAMELESS. Under Trumpetpaw, it says LEVEL UP! TRUMPETKIT -> TRUMPETPAW, NERVOUS -> TROUBLESOME, + NEW SKILL: LOVER OF STORIES.]

(Tempestpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, troublesome, loves to eat)

(Mosspaw: 6, male, caretaker apprentice, shameless, stares at fire)

(Trumpetpaw: 6, female, warrior apprentice, troublesome, plays in mud, lover of stories)

Downstar stands above the Clan and proclaims Elmpaw shall be known as Elmsprout, honoring her amity.

[Image ID: Elmsprout is in her full, long-furred, adult sprite. Under her, it says LEVEL UP! ELMPAW -> ELMSPROUT, CAREFUL LISTENER -> HELPFUL INSIGHT.]

(Elmsprout: 12, female, caretaker, charismatic, helpful insight)

Downstar, Rustshade, and Puddlepaw find a wounded loner with a mangled tail.

[Image ID: Downstar, Rustshade, and Puddlepaw stand in the back while Fennelspot talks to a black bengal tom with a white underside. Under the black tom, it says NEW PLAYER: DARKKICK, 105, MALE, LONESOME, TALENTED SWIMMER, UNDERSTANDS NATURE, + CONDITION: MANGLED TAIL.]

---

The black and white tom wasn’t trained to fight. He’d only gotten into a few scrapes in his many moons wandering the wilds surrounding his old home, learning what he could from the friends he made. He’d never been in a fight like this. He was never meant to be in a fight like this. Never meant to be in a fight at all.

He wasn’t about to join his ancestors that day, however. He was still too mad at them.

The brown tom chased the loner all the way from the northern human settlement. It was like he had been waiting for the loner, following rumors of a starkly colored tom offering medical treatment to any strays who needed it. You’d have to be mousebrained to get mad at someone for that, but considering how the loner’s feathery tail was now coated in blood, he wouldn’t argue with the maniac.

The loner’s paws skidded against the edge of the river. It still had its freezing winter chill to it, despite the coming of spring. Thick Clan scent flooded the loner’s nose. Oh, to go home… but he knew full well that he was not welcome there anymore. If he crossed the river, he would suffer their wrath. Yet with how vicious his attacker was…

The loner could hear his pursuer getting closer, stomping over new growth in his mad dash. The loner could handle a random Clan patrol. He steadied his paws against the stones and dirt leading into the water and plunged in. 

The loner’s blood drifted in the current. His long fur weighed him down, but he kicked with the flow like he was running on water. He arched over stones and curved his body like an otter, letting the river do most of his work for him. He threw his head over the surface of the water for a deep, shaking breath. He looked back. The brown tom stood by the river, glaring at the loner. The loner dove back into the water.

He kept swimming until his muscles began to ache and his lungs started to burn. The current pushed him toward a wall of stone, where the river pushed on only a paw deep. The loner splashed onto the shallow rocks. He laid in the low flow, gathering his breath. He’d go treat his tail soon. He just… needed a moment to rest. He wasn’t as young as he used to be.

“Stay there!” someone yowled. Wonderful, more company. The loner’s eyes were blurry from water, strain, and pain, but he squinted at the figure approaching from the southern side of the river. He saw gray spots against a well-muscled body and blue eyes studying his drenched pelt.

“Puddlespeckle?” the loner coughed, water dripping from his nose. His eyes cleared a bit; no, not Puddlespeckle. Puddlespeckle had no white blaze on his face.

“That’s my grandfather’s name,” the lookalike gasped. “I’m his granddaughter, Puddlepaw. How do you know my grandfather?”

“Puddlepaw, who have you found?” Two more figures approached the river. The loner’s vision was clear, and there was no mistaking the two cats coming closer.

“Rustshade and Downdapple,” the loner laughed softly, shaking his dripping head. “I heard RippleClan became a reality, but I wasn’t sure if you were part of it.”

“Darkkick?” Rustshade muttered. The ginger tom and tortoiseshell molly shared the same shocked look. Puddlepaw slipped back to Rustshade’s side. The loner, Darkkick, pulled himself out of the river and shook out his pelt. His tail burned and he couldn’t help but hiss.

“The one and only,” Darkkick huffed, grooming his tail.

“You’ve misnamed Downstar,” Puddlepaw said, glancing up at her leader. “Downstar, is this the same Darkkick from the stories?”

“I should have guessed you tell stories about me,” Darkkick scoffed. “I suppose you paint me as Autumnstar’s victim, then? Thrown out for doing what StarClan asked?”

“We’re sorry that happened to you,” Downstar said, bowing her head. “We thought you left the territories long ago.”

“I traveled for a few moons,” Darkkick sighed. “My better nature got the better of me though. Couldn’t let loners die when I know how to help them.” Darkkick spat out a chunk of wet black fur. “I would have thought you’d pick Paleshade as leader.”

“She didn’t live to see RippleClan’s founding,” Puddlepaw muttered.

“Ah,” Darkkick said softly. The fur along his spine bristled. It would have been easy for Autumnstar to kill the brave molly without Darkkick around. He’d covered for Paleshade and Weedfoot so many times as cleric…

“Fennelspot would want to see you,” Downstar said. “He could help you with your tail.” Darkkick studied his tail. The wounds were big, and it would take Darkkick a while to set up a temporary medicine den, especially with the maniac from the human settlement looking for him.

“Let’s see how that tom’s been taking care of you,” Darkkick sighed, padding away from the river. “Now what part of the coastline has your little group mangled into a camp?”

Rustshade and Puddlepaw took position on either side of Darkkick (codekeepers, always so wary) while Downstar escorted the long-lost cleric to RippleClan’s camp. Darkkick had heard stories of the shipwreck by the sea, had even seen it from a distance on day-long patrols to collect resources from the ocean, but he would never have imagined it safe for cats to camp in. Even if you ignored the old stories (which apparently no one was telling the younger generation from the look on Puddlepaw’s face during Darkkick’s musings) of terrifying wraiths wandering the shipwreck, how long would the wood last and keep the Clan sheltered? Somehow, though, the shipwreck was still standing strong, protecting the blossoming Clan under its wind-worn wood.

Although Darkkick knew better than to needlessly flame anyone’s pride, he could admit to himself at the very least that RippleClan was doing well. Young apprentices proudly joined their mentors. Elders rested in the shade (although… was one of them wearing a ribbon collar? Did Fennelspot forget how a collar could choke a wild cat? Was this some odd new tradition the RippleClan founders invented?). It was, by every definition Darkkick knew, a true Clan. 

A familiar ginger tom sat by a large rock near the shipwreck, slowly sharing a meal with a long-furred cream and white molly. Fennelspot’s gaze drifted over the returning patrol. At first, he glazed over Darkkick. Then he choked on his prey.

“Fennelspot!” the young molly yelped. She patted Fennelspot’s back as the cleric collected his breath.

“Don’t kill yourself on my behalf,” Darkkick purred as his escorts led him toward his old colleague.

“Darkkick…” Fennelspot coughed.

“Troutpaw, can you leave us be for a moment?” Downstar asked the cream-colored apprentice.

“You’re Darkkick?” Troutpaw gasped. “The exiled cleric?”

“I haven’t been a cleric in many moons,” Darkkick sighed. He couldn’t stop himself from purring at Troutpaw’s wide-eyed expression. “Don’t tell me I’m famous.”

“You play a role in some of my mother’s stories about AshClan,” Puddlepaw said, shrinking slightly beside the black tom.

“He flopped out of the river with a mangled tail,” Rustshade sighed. 

“Yes, Troutpaw, get a spot ready for our new patient,” Fennelspot gulped, taking the last bite of the roasted mouse. 

“Yes, sir,” Troutpaw said before dutifully bounding off to what Darkkick assumed was the medicine den. 

“Come here and share tongues with me, you old fool,” Darkkick chuckled. Fennelspot touched noses with Darkkick.

“If I’m old, then so are you,” Fennelspot chuckled softly. He began to share tongues with Darkkick, grooming the remaining water from his fur. He licked blood off Darkkick’s tail as best he could. In between that grooming, he asked, “You must have so many questions! So do I. Where have you been? Why come back after all these moons?”

“It’s more of a visit than a homecoming, Fennel,” Darkkick huffed. “I could use some help with these wounds I got.”

“You’re going to leave again?” Fennelspot gulped, meeting Darkkick’s eyes. 

“Do you really think Autumnstar will be pleased if you announce my arrival at the next Gathering?” Darkkick scoffed.

“Autumnstar has passed on,” Downstar explained, touching her tail to Darkkick’s shoulder. “And we don’t care what AshClan thinks of us. They chose to exile you. We’d be happy to take you in.”

“Your nest is ready, Darkkick,” Troutpaw called, sticking her head out of the medicine den.

“Let’s see how well you’ve fared in all this sand, Fennelspot,” Darkkick muttered, trying to shake wet sand off his paws. His entourage followed him to the medicine den. His eyes took a minute to adjust to the shadows in the overturned boat. The familiar scent of concoctions and ointments and dried herbs threw him into the past, to days when he had an eager ginger apprentice and the respect of both AshClan and StarClan. Now he lacked both.

“Father?” The voice brought Darkkick back to the present. A brown molly, her back covered and restrained in a tight splint, stared at Darkkick with huge, owl-like amber eyes. Another gray spotted molly, this one almost the perfect reflection of Weedfoot, sat by her side, her conversation suddenly interrupted.

“Father?” Puddlepaw, Troutpaw, and the lookalike gasped.

“Spike,” Darkkick muttered. For a moment, he checked his daughter’s pelt for stars, wondering if she was some ghostly vision. 

“Darkkick is your father?” Downstar asked, moving between the pair.

“You broke your oath,” Fennelspot mumbled, his tall tail falling.

“That oath became meaningless the moment I was exiled,” Darkkick snapped, sneering. Fennelspot quickly bowed his head. Darkkick collected himself, his half-wet fur weighing him down, and looked back at his long lost daughter. “Last I saw your mother, she told me you were dead.”

“I would have been without RippleClan,” the brown molly admitted. “It’s Spikecrash now though, Father. I’ve joined their ranks as a mediator. Palepaw here has been sharing some of her lessons with me.”

“Why am I not surprised that’s the name of one of Weedfoot’s kits,” Darkkick sighed, purring as Palepaw’s shocked expression grew. “Don’t be so stunned. The relation is more obvious than a dog in a tree.”

“Puddlepaw, Palepaw, come outside with me,” Rustshade sighed with a twitch of his tail. “I can better explain what’s happening.” Palepaw hesitantly slunk between Darkkick and Fennelspot as she joined her sister outside. The two littermates followed Rustshade to a quiet spot to talk.

“Your mother thought you had died,” Darkkick said, risking a step closer to Spikecrash. “She… she was not well when I last saw her.”

“We went to find her shortly after Spikecrash officially joined the Clan,” Downstar explained. “She’s being cared for by humans.”

“Yes, thanks to me,” Darkkick huffed, glaring at Downstar. “I took her. I couldn’t stay to care for her.” Darkkick hissed as a sharp sting ran down his tail. Fennelspot had snuck behind him and rubbed an ointment on his tail.

“You aren’t sitting down, and we can’t let you bleed all over the medicine den,” Fennelspot huffed, dipping his paw back into a small jar of ointment and continuing the process.

“Part of me is glad things happened this way,” Spikecrash admitted, her eyes softening as she watched Darkkick squirm. “Fennelspot says my back is healing well. Mom is living with beings who can better care for her. I know we haven’t spent much time together, Father, but we could grow closer as part of a Clan! You could meet Cinderella’s kits, they’ve just been apprenticed.” Darkkick didn’t answer. The medicine den felt too small. How could he stand under the gaze of his ancestors again when StarClan…

“Stay.” Fennelspot walked in front of Darkkick, placing his tail on Spinecrash’s splint. “If not for her, then for us. RippleClan could use your knowledge in the medicine den.”

“I’m not a cleric anymore,” Darkkick huffed, his gut tensing at the very thought. He didn’t want to look at the disappointment covering everyone’s faces. He grit his teeth. He spoke to the ground. “If you find yourselves overwhelmed, I can help treat patients, as I have been for years now. But if I join RippleClan, I am just a warrior. I cannot bear the cleric’s name.” He locked eyes with Fennelspot (the shine in his old friend’s eyes made him want to groan from the sheer overwhelming sentimentality). “Is that understood?”

“We can make it work,” Fennelspot promised. He once again touched noses with Darkkick. Troutpaw purred in the back at the sweet display.

“Now tell me,” Darkkick grunted, taking a seat in front of the daughter he thought dead as the others settled around him, “what in the name of the four— er, five Clans has happened while I’ve been away?”

(Darkkick: 105, male, warrior, lonesome, talented swimmer, understands nature)

(Puddlepaw: 11, trans female, codekeeper apprentice, thoughtful, morbid curiosity, oddly observant)

(Rustshade: 89, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Downstar: 104, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Fennelspot: 102, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

(Troutpaw: 6, female, cleric apprentice, compassionate, morbid curiosity)

(Spikecrash: 20, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)

(Palepaw: 11, female, mediator apprentice, insecure, picky nest builder, never sits still)

[lichennose]

World-building in Building Thunder #2 - Sculpting; Clay, Pots, and Grinders Chicoryjump of ThunderClan guides Sedgepaw through sculpting a rainwater pot. Meanwhile, Elmpaw and Wortpaw take advantage of the fact that their teacher is distracted.

Clay is a valuable resource to the lake Clans! It’s used to sculpt bowls and pots, the latter of which are used to store rainwater and honey.

Gathering and Processing Clay - Natural clay is gathered from riverbeds. Cats collect it by shoveling with the paws, sticks, etc, then moving it to a nice flat surface for processing. - Processing involves cleaning the clay (picking out sticks and pebbles) then mixing in sand, which helps it hold its shape. While the sand isn’t totally necessary, it’s better to mix it in now rather than deal with misshapen pottery. Finally, the clay is sculpted into the desired shape and left to dry in a sunny location.

Bowls and Grinders - Mortar & pestle for cats! Used by medicine cats (to make poultices) and RiverClan warriors (to prepare mashed salmon). - Bowl is crafted out of clay. The grinder is just a small rock that can be held in the mouth (often surrounded by moss for comfort). - Bowls can be made in a variety of sizes! Usually they’re small, but RiverClan makes bigger ones in late greenleaf to mash salmon in. - Bowls are often crafted in batches and may be traded between Clans that have a good relationship.

Pots - Pots have two uses in Clan culture: storing rainwater and storing honey. Rainwater is collected for cats who can’t leave camp, while honey is an invaluable antibacterial. - Crafted out of clay and topped with a cover. The cover is woven and weighed down with a rock to keep it in place. - Rainwater pots are larger than honey pots and stored around the edges of camp. When water needs to be collected, they’re rolled out into the clearing and left there during rainfall; to prevent disease, they need to be emptied after about two days. - Honey pots are stored in the medicine den and are strictly off-limits to anyone but the healers.

[rattle-the-gods]

Pronouns ref of the cast so far!

Bonus under cut

[elementclangen]

Moon 179-Leaf-bare

The Clan is shaken by Amethystdapple’s loss.  Peakspots (149) mourns the loss of his friend.  This loss, so soon after Chervilcry’s, has taken such a toll on him that he can barely find his footing as he stumbles into his nest, wailing for Amethystdapple.  Fry (86) can hardly process the sight of Amethystdapple’s body before him.  Somehow, the world feels colder and crueler now.  He makes sure to grab a bit of his mate’s bedding.  Her scent comforts Fry as he drifts to sleep that night.  Sleepyfoot (45) wonders how the Clan will cope without Amethystdapple in their lives.  The world seems dim and lifeless, and Sleepyfoot keeps close to her Clan, seeking out their comfort and company.  Primcrest (21) gently licks Amethystdapple’s fur clean, as she did for her in the nursery.  It’s partly because of Amethystdapple’s love for her that she’s still alive today.  In the days to come, Primcrest barely stirs from her nest. Mossyfleck (21) and Brightfern (21) do their best to comfort her, but it’s not enough. In their grief, Peakspots and Primcrest are bonding.  Peakspots had thought that, because Dark-cursed cats are viewed more positively now, Primcrest’s life would be easier.  It turns out, she still feels constrained by all the rules placed on her.  She wishes she had more freedom to use her powers.  Life in the Clan continues.  Asterpaw (15) and Poolpaw (15) have both been made full Healers:  Astertwist in honor of his insight and Poolbounce in honor of his zeal.  They miss Featherspeck, but they see her watching their naming ceremony from the ranks of StarClan.  Marshdapple’s  kits have also been made apprentices.  Frecklepaw (6) has been apprenticed to Gladepatch (55). The healer's den is quite full now!  Tornpaw (6) has also been made an apprentice, giving Halfnoise (20) his first apprentice.  During an herb-gathering patrol that turns into a skirmish with ChaffinchClan, Frecklepaw saves Mossyfleck from an enemy warrior.  And all she got were bruises!  Impressive. Also, Elmpaw (9) has come out as a trans tom!  Go Elmpaw!   And Mossyfleck is feeling a bit frustrated at Creekstar (33) for giving Halfnoise, who’s younger than him, an apprentice but not him.  And Primcrest only got an apprentice because she’s dark-cursed.  How is that fair?

[mandareeboo]

Title: Deep Dive

Summary: In a world where ThunderClan absorbed ShadowClan seasons ago, young warrior Weaselface is tasked to rebuild the fourth Clan and take her place as leader. But how can she betray all she’s ever known and loved, all on the word of one ghost with a grudge?

Chapter Title: Atlas Tripped

Excerpt:

"But..." she said, lost. "But it's so early." "You promised!" Featherkit piped up. "Apprentices when the first snow falls! You promised." "You did promise," Sweetshine reminded her. As if Weaselstar had ever forgotten. "Well, of course," she replied. "But it's still Leaf-fall." "Maybe, but the snow is still there." "I feel like I said something about it sticking first." Sweetshine fixed her a no-nonsense look.

I'm back! Had a six-month dry spell before I finished this bad boy, but I think it came out okay. The deputies and medicine cats needed to be explained a bit, and I'm gonna pretend the reason they weren't labelled beforehand was because Weasel is a dingaling who forgot to look into it.

Also, if you haven't noticed, I have a co-author now! Scrambles has helped me work out family trees, designs, and workarounds for a long while now. They created Ice Cube and his family. Say hello!

Commissions Are Open! || Ko-fi

[justanotherwarriorcatsfan]

Moon 46

Jumpkit died of greencough

Dahliawatcher is no longer grief stricken

Elmpaw no longer is bruised

Eaglepaw no longer has a runny nose

Twilightpaw got bruised

Whistlekit is scolded after sneaking out of camp

[iceclan-iterations]

[vine voice] JEEEEE-ZUS CHRIST.

[quiverpaw]

moon 1 has elmpaw and frostpaw go on a patrol, where they find a patrol from WoodClan. Frostpaw's all too glad to catch up with old clanmates, but Elmpaw feels a bit uneasy.

Elmpaw and Frostpaw also discuss their warrior names- and when asked if Elmpaw would take nine lives when he was old enough, he replied that the idea of "groveling" at the dead cats who built the same code that hurts kittypets made him uncomfortable

[ts3lightclan]

Introducing: Elmpaw

Skittish

Quiet

Current Role: Apprentice

Mentor: Honeypurr

A bit of a scaredy-cat, Elmpaw tends to keep to himself and keep his thoughts to himself. He may need a bit of a push to try new things from time to time, but he always does his best.

[sublimedragontragedy]

WinterClan year 1

Pebblefur wasn't a very good mentor to Elmpaw.

Events throughout the years will most often be doodles like these cus I just don't have the time to do full scenes all the time.

[loafbud-wc]

i opened clangen and found out that pearlshriek has grandkids now!!!

her son from her first litter, darkspots, actually has two litters now- two daughters in the first, and a daughter & son in the second

this is his second litter: elmpaw and podpaw (i'll have to draw his first litter sometime lol)! at the time of me posting this, they're 10 moons old so i'll reblog this with their warrior names later on

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 44

Oilstripe’s whitecough and Mosskit’s greencough are gone, but Wildclaw catches greencough.

[Image ID: Mosskit and Oilstripe leave the medicine den in the back with the words - GREENCOUGH and - WHITECOUGH under them respectively. Wildclaw faces Fennelspot with the words + CONDITION: GREENCOUGH underneath her. Fennelspot says “StarClan, a whole season of disease…”]

It would have been nice if Fennelspot could end his day by saying “Ah, Oilstripe and Mosskit are symptom free, all I have to do is care for Burdockcreek and I can rest.” He even got Spike out of the den for a bit. But alas, StarClan had other plans for him.

“When the branches creak and the graves all quake,” Wildclaw sang at the top of her lungs as Rattlepelt led her into the medicine den, “spooks come out for a singing wake! Happy haunts materialize and begin to vocalize! Grim growling ghosts come out to socialize!” Wildclaw flung herself about as she sang, unbalanced. Her breathing was quick and her body shivered even as she seemed blissful in her odd dance. Fennelspot had been mixing some of Burdockcreek’s medicine into a small meal when the two mollies entered his den. He stopped mixing and stared at Wildclaw, quickly dreading the hours ahead.

“What is this?” Fennelspot groaned while Rattlepelt nudged Wildclaw toward a nest.

“I had to convince her she could help Rabbitjoy and I in a performance to get her out of her nest,” Rattlepelt said. “I think she has a fever.” Wildclaw sneezed mid-verse. Fennelspot stuck his nose in her ear.

“You’re right about that,” Fennelspot muttered. Wildclaw coughed and sputtered over her nest, spewing green gunk as she went. Fennelspot backed up. “StarClan, a whole season of disease… now Wildclaw has greencough too!” 

“Can I help?” Rattlepelt gulped as Fennelspot hurried to his stores.

“Try to convince her to eat dandelion leaves,” Fennelspot huffed, pointing his tail to the small stock of dried leaves amidst his wide collection. “I’ll need to make more black cherry tea than I expected. This is a severe fever, use all the leaves. We will make do.”

“Fennelspot!” Oilstripe hurried into the den and bumped into Rattlepelt. Rattlepelt dropped the dandelion leaves. Her paw smashed the delicate dry herbs into fragments.

“Oilstripe!” Fennelspot groaned. “We needed that!”

“Stars, I’m sorry,” Oilstripe gulped, her gaze touching on Wildclaw. “It was for her, right? Let me help, I’m sorry.”

“No, please,” Fennelspot groaned, blocking Oilstripe from his stores. “You just recovered from whitecough, I don’t need you catching greencough.”

“Oilstripe!” Wildclaw loopily cheered, tail rising. “Oilstripe. Oil, Oil… I just want to say… you are, by far, one of the most interesting cats I have ever met. I’m so jealous of you! Why can’t I see ghosts?” She rolled onto her side with a dramatic groan.

“Thanks?” Oilstripe chuckled. “Wait, no, I came in for a reason. Fennelspot, you asked me to keep an eye out for Shadowdrop’s spirit.” Fennelspot’s ears perked up. Rattlepelt paused next to Wildclaw who, despite her fevered haze, latched onto her brother’s name. 

“He’s here?” Fennelspot asked. 

“He’s in StarClan,” Oilstripe said with a nod. “I saw him a few minutes ago, watching his kits.”

“It’s been over a moon since he died, why is this the first time you’re seeing him?” Fennelspot asked, moving closer to his friend.

“He wouldn’t talk to me,” Oilstripe huffed. “I saw him, he saw me, he walked into the nursery, and when I looked inside, he was gone and Troutkit started questioning me about the ‘weird look’ on my face.”

“Told you he’d get to StarClan,” Wildclaw grumbled as Rattlepelt groomed her neck.

“I thought you should be the one to let Downstar know,” Oilstripe explained, tensing a bit at the leader’s name. “She’s… never been happy to hear about my sight.” Fennelspot hesitated. He still needed to make his batch of black cherry tea and find a different treatment for Wildclaw’s fever. He didn’t have time to talk to Downstar. And yet…

“You both wanted to help me?” he sighed, padding to the bundle of black cherry bark he kept close by in recent moons. “Then Rattlepelt, would you brew more black cherry tea for Wildclaw and Burdockcreek? After you get Wildclaw into the quarantine den, that is. We have it for a reason.” Rattlepelt nudged Wildclaw to her paws, despite the sick molly’s whining. “Oilstripe, I need aspen bark for Wildclaw’s fever. There are aspen trees near WheatClan’s border. Harvest the bark and get back to camp quickly. Is your father in with Downstar?”

“He’s with Burdockcreek,” Oilstripe said, inching out of the den. “I think Downstar’s with Weedfoot though! I’ll be back soon!” With that, Oilstripe ran out of camp. Rattlepelt escorted Wildclaw to the quarantine den. Fennelspot groomed his chest and prepared to give Downstar the news.

[Image ID: Fennelspot talks to Downstar, who is flanked by the spirits of Duskkit and Shadowdrop. Under Downstar, it says LEVEL UP! ADVENTUROUS -> WISE. Downstar says “There is no ‘getting better’, Fennelspot. I will always be like this. I have to learn to live with it.”]

Sure enough, Weedfoot and Downstar were both in the leader’s den, working through recent border patrol reports. Downstar noticed Fennelspot’s arrival first and paused mid-sentence, catching Weedfoot’s attention as well.

“Hello, Fennelspot,” Weedfoot purred. “We’re finishing up our discussion here, would you be able to wait a moment?”

“I just have something I need to tell Downstar,” Fennelspot explained. “I didn’t want to wait longer than need be.”

“Is it important?” Downstar asked. Fennelspot nodded softly, his nerves tickling his gut. “Well, go ahead and share the news, Fennel.” Fennelspot cleared his throat. 

“Shadowdrop has made it to StarClan,” Fennelspot said. “I… just received word.” Downstar and Weedfoot wouldn’t stop staring at Fennelspot. Part of him wanted to run away, but he waited as the weight of his announcement settled on Downstar’s bicolored fur.

“Six more lives to live,” Downstar muttered, “and I’ll see him again.” Weedfoot licked Downstar’s shoulder as the tortie leader bowed her head.

“I hope knowing he’s watching over you will help you get better,” Fennelspot said, bowing his head as well. Yet as he did so, the fur along his neck prickled. He looked up, and Downstar was glaring at him.

“Fennelspot, I need you to understand something,” Downstar grumbled. Weedfoot stepped back, feeling the raw energy rippling under Downstar’s fur. “I have been… I have not been my old self in almost two years. I can’t go back to being that molly no matter how much I learn. There is no ‘getting better’, Fennelspot. I will always be like this. I have to learn to live with it.”

“I’m sorry,” Fennelspot quickly stammered, “those were thoughtless words.”

“I’m not mad, Fennel,” Downstar groaned, shaking her head. “But… don’t treat what I have like you treat Burdockcreek’s greencough. It’s not something you can cure.” Fennelspot sunk into himself.

“Let’s get back to the border reports, Downstar,” Weedfoot muttered with a gentle touch to Downstar’s shoulder. Downstar nodded and Fennelspot carefully left the leader’s den.

The two of them could only do their best.

(Fennelspot: 101, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

(Wildclaw: 36, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor)

(Rattlepelt: 27, female, artisan, fierce, leather artist)

(Oilstripe: 48, female, historian, charismatic, ghost sight)

(Weedfoot: 93, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(Downstar: 103, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

Spike’s wound is no longer infected. She observes Clan dynamics with a knowing gaze.

[Image ID: Spike talks to Carnationspeckle, who says “Well, how do you want to spend your days?”. Underneath the brown tabby, it says LEVEL UP! SPIKE -> SPIKECRASH, - INFECTION. Lavenderpaw approaches, yowling “You’re staying?”. Underneath Lavenderpaw, it says LEVEL UP! BOLD -> PLAYFUL.]

---

Spike still couldn’t move much of her lower back, and she still needed help to move anywhere beyond the reach of her nest, but she was at least out of that stuffy den for a while. The snow covering camp made her shiver. The view from camp toward the ocean was unmatched, even though part of the coastline was blocked by the camp walls. Spike never had such a good view of the glimmering water from her home with her mother. 

In the deep shine of sunset, RippleClan was alive. Wildclaw sang through her fever as Rattlepelt led her to the quarantine den. Ripplepaw and Lavenderpaw sparred outside the apprentice’s den while Carnationspeckle enjoyed the sunset with Troutkit at her side. Mosskit and Tempestkit led their nervous sister out of the nursery to practice hunting stances. Parsley and James joked outside of the elder’s den about their old lives with humans, stories that sounded achingly familiar to Spike. In that moment, she felt more alive than she ever remembered feeling in that old shack with her mother and aunt.

“Someone looks happy!” Spike startled as Carnationspeckle suddenly appeared beside her. A bit of pain rippled down her back when her body shifted awkwardly in the snow, but she bit it down. She’d grown used to the stiffness and frustration of being unable to move without pain.

“What can I say?” Spike sighed. “This place… it’s nice. It’s peaceful.”

“Not a bad place to recover,” Carnationspeckle purred. Troutkit, who seemed to have doubled in size since Spike first met her, peered around her mother and studied Spike.

“Your back’s healing well,” Troutkit hummed. “I can’t smell the infection anymore.” Troutkit sniffed the stick supporting Spike’s broken spine.

“Fennelspot said my recovery is improving again,” Spike explained. 

“I’m going to be a cleric when I’m apprenticed next moon,” Troutkit explained, hesitating between her words. “I’ll try to help you walk again.”

“Thank you, Troutkit.” Spike couldn’t help but purr at the way Troutkit stood a bit taller when she talked about helping. Troutkit hid behind her whiskers at the compliment. 

“You’re really starting to fit into life in RippleClan,” Carnationspeckle chirped. “Have you thought about staying once you’re healed?” The few muscles Spike could move in her lower half tensed.

“I can’t,” Spike muttered, shaking her head before she could say something she regretted. “My mom needs me. She won’t do well on her own. I don’t know if my father has seen her since I left, she could be…” She stopped, remembering the presence of the young kit at Carnationspeckle’s side.

“But if you had the choice,” Carnationspeckle asked, tucking her paws under her, “would you want to stay?”

“What’s the point of daydreaming if I can’t stay here forever?” Spike groaned.

“What if you asked your mom if you could stay?” Troutkit suggested. She copied how her mother sat, casting insecure glances at Spike as she talked. “If she loves you, she’d want you to be happy. You can always visit her!”

“My mother isn’t like your mothers, Troutkit,” Spike sighed. “She… well, she’s sick. She has been for a long time. She doesn’t see the world like we do, and that can get her hurt. She needs someone to look after her.”

“But don’t you deserve to be happy?” Troutkit asked. “Wouldn’t she want you to be happy?” Spike laid her head in the snow. Her deep sigh collected around her in a soft fog. It felt selfish, but didn’t she say something similar to Cinderella moons back, when her family was whole and Cinderella felt guilty for speaking to her Clan cat friend when she could be hunting?

“If I were to join,” Spike said hesitantly, “would I take one of the roles you talk about so much? What would I do with myself?”

“Well, how do you want to spend your days?” Carnationspeckle asked. Spike thought about it for a few minutes, letting the happy chatter of the Clan calm her nerves.

“I’ve spent a lot of my life helping my mother battle her demons,” Spike eventually said, pushing herself up. “I think I’m better at that than I ever was helping Cinderella in the hunt. Isn’t Palepaw training to help others in that way?” 

“She’s going to be the Clan’s first mediator,” Carnationspeckle purred.

“Then I’d feel less selfish if I was helping others,” Spike said with a bit more confidence.

“You’re staying?” Lavenderpaw scrambled away from his brother and bounded up to Spike and Carnationspeckle. “You’re joining RippleClan?”

“I think I am,” Spike purred. Lavenderpaw laughed, running and dancing around Spike. Carnationspeckle and Troutkit both giggled at Lavenderpaw’s antics.

“You should take a Clan name!” Lavenderpaw gasped. “Something like… Spikestrike! No, no, I have something better. Spikecrash!”

“That sounds so violent,” Carnationspeckle chuckled.

“It sounds powerful,” Lavenderpaw corrected her. “You should ask Downstar to name you Spikecrash!”

“Spikecrash…” the brown tabby hummed. “I like that name.”

(Spikecrash: 19, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)

(Carnationspeckle: 46, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Troutkit: 5, female, kit, insecure, morbid curiosity)

(Lavenderpaw: 10, male, warrior apprentice, bold, loves to sing)

As Weedfoot leads a patrol with Clammask, Oilstripe, and Ripplepaw, an AshClan apprentice catches them by the border and begs to join RippleClan.

[Image ID: Weedfoot, Clammask, Oilstripe, and Ripplepaw face a silvery-pink apprentice with white spots and green eyes. Under her, it says NEW PLAYER: ELMPAW, 11, FEMALE, CHARISMATIC, CAREFUL LISTENER.]

---

The patrol to find Daphne, Spikecrash’s mother, was shockingly uneventful. Weedfoot took Clammask, Oilstripe, and Ripplepaw out the morning after Spikecrash asked the Clan to inform her mother of her new life. It didn’t take long to find where she had once lived with her mother, although no cat matching Daphne’s brown description lived in the abandoned human den on the edge of a vast field of wheat. A passing barn cat told the patrol Daphne had been scooped up by the humans who lived beyond the wheat field, so Weedfoot asked them to pass on their message and directed the patrol back to RippleClan territory.

Of course, there was still plenty of time left for the patrol to check some of the other borders of the Clan. Sure, the weather was cold and the snow tickled, but there was an energy to the patrol that day that no one wanted to destroy.

“When it gets warmer,” Ripplepaw promised, “I want to show the cats in LynxClan how we turn ocean water into drinking water. They’ll be so envious of us!”

“Alright, we don’t want to brag all the time,” Oilstripe laughed, playfully nudging her apprentice. “Just tell me how it works. I want to see if you actually understand it.”

“I’ve never had a head for science, personally,” Clammask chuckled as she and Weedfoot walked behind the excited mentor/apprentice pair. “I’m glad I don’t have to teach any of my apprentices how plants grow or how the stars move.”

“That’s why you’re a caretaker and we’re historians,” Weedfoot purred into Clammask’s ear. “Don’t tell Ripplepaw I’ve said this, or she’ll tell her brothers and make them jealous, but I’m rather proud the kit I named after this Clan is the one who decided to be a historian like me.”

“Do you think your kits have lived up to their namesakes so far?” 

“I can’t help but see a more mature version of the first Wasppaw in my son. The other three are quite different from the cats I knew though.”

“I could only imagine how Puddlespeckle might have felt about Puddlepaw. It would have been funny to see.” Weedfoot laughed alongside Clammask as Ripplepaw finished her surprise quiz.

“Ah, and here’s the AshClan border,” Oilstripe purred as the patrol approached the ever-familiar territory they once fought against. “If we fought AshClan back in the day with the size of our Clan now, we would have had a much easier time beating them.”

“I think another border patrol already beat us here,” Ripplepaw pointed out, scenting the air. “Our scent is fresh.”

“That just means less for us to do,” Weedfoo purred, stretching her hind legs. “It’s been wonderful walking with all of you, but I think we should head home and curl up around a fire before our paws get too cold.”

“Deputy Weedfoot?” A soft voice danced over the AshClan border. Everyone’s ears stood tall. Weedfoot took the lead and scanned AshClan’s heavy trees,

“Show yourself, please,” Weedfoot huffed at nothing. A chunk of snow fell from the trees. A long-furred, silvery molly jumped from the upper branches and landed squarely in front of Weedfoot. Oilstripe and Clammask took defensive poses beside their deputy. The newcomer shook loose snow off her thick pelt. She locked eyes with Weedfoot and bowed low and long in a way only an AshClan cat ever would.

“Deputy Weedfoot,” the young molly gulped, head still low, “do you know who I am?” It was hard for Weedfoot not to know. She shared her father’s smokey fur.

“Elmpaw, am I right?” Ripplepaw chirped. “You’re one of the caretaker apprentices in AshClan.”

“And Eelgrowl’s daughter,” Weedfoot said quietly. Oilstripe moved closer to Weedfoot at the mention of the tom’s name. Ripplepaw shifted back, her cheerful expression slightly strained.

“He’s Eelstar now, ma’am,” Elmpaw explained, daring to look up.

“Autumnstar’s dead?” Clammask snapped.

“For two days now, ma’am,” Elmpaw muttered. 

Weedfoot couldn’t get over Elmpaw’s news. Eelstar? The tom who murdered Weedfoot’s mate had finally become leader of AshClan? Weedfoot had prayed he would retire or pass on before Autumnstar. But now… what was Weedfoot supposed to do about him? How could she ever hope to work with him when he…

“Where’s your mentor?” Oilstripe asked.

“I snuck away,” Elmpaw said. She gave herself a few good licks, smoothing out her fluffy fur, and said in as respectful a voice as she could muster, “Deputy Weedfoot, I’ve grown up with stories of RippleClan’s open acceptance of loners and kittypets and all sorts of cats. I ask that you allow me sanctuary in RippleClan. I cannot live under Father’s leadership, ma’am. I’ll be a great caretaker for RippleClan, so please… take me back to your camp.” Weedfoot kept staring. She still hadn’t fully processed Eelstar’s ascension.

“You want to leave your Clan when your father has just become leader?” Clammask huffed. “Why would you do that? Knowing your Clan’s culture, you’d be in a position of honor.”

“I don’t want a position of honor, ma’am,” Elmpaw groaned. “I don’t want all the expectations that come with being the leader’s daughter! I’m not a leaderly molly. I could barely handle the responsibilities of being a deputy’s daughter.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Clammask sighed, “but I don’t think we can in good conscience take an apprentice—”

“You can finish your training under Downstar,” Weedfoot finally said. She walked to the edge of the border and touched noses with Elmpaw. “I’m certain she’ll agree to let you join us. If you don’t want to live in AshClan’s culture, RippleClan is a safe place for you.” Elmpaw purred deeply. Her green eyes glittered in the shimmer of sunhigh. She pounced over the border and bowed once more to Weedfoot.

“We don’t bow in RippleClan, to start,” Oilstripe laughed. Elmpaw quickly stood, brushing off her AshClan manners with a strained chuckle.

“Weedfoot…” Clammask muttered, but this time, Ripplepaw interrupted her.

“We need to start our relationship with Eelstar on the right paw and show him he can’t do what Autumnstar used to do,” Ripplepaw declared, rubbing against Elmpaw. “What better way to do that than by stealing his daughter right under his nose?”

“What better way indeed,” Weedfoot muttered. 

I hope you’d approve of this, Paleshade.

(Weedfoot: 93, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(Ripplepaw: 10, female, historian apprentice, charismatic, avid play-fighter, splashes in puddles)

(Oilstripe: 48, female, historian, charismatic, ghost sight)

(Clammask: 38, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Elmpaw: 11, female, caretaker apprentice, charismatic, careful listener)

[quiet-clangen]

MOON 5:

I lied, everything isn't fine and I did a little yell when I saw the war notif. I've never seen another Clan declare war so early in a run, especially because QuietClan hasn't had an encounter with another Clan on any of their patrols? I always thought that event was dependent on how much you chose the antagonize option.

On the bright side, someone to properly mentor Elmpaw and a bunch of kits ready for apprentice training?

MOON 0

MOON 4

MOON 6

[rattle-the-gods]

And here she is! Now open to asks!

[elementclangen]

Moon 177-Leaf-bare

This leaf-bare is proving to be a tough one.  Instead of passing on the greencough to Tornkit (4) as the Healers feared, Lightkit (4) died from it.  Additionally, Chervilcry (156) went missing and was found dead out in the territory.  The Clan is in shock that she’s gone.  There are no cats alive who remember a time without the beloved mediator in the Clan.  Peakspots (146) is hit especially hard by her death, as it leaves him as the oldest cat in the Clan.  One day, the Clan will have kittens who never knew Chervilcry in life, but Peakspots vows that Chervilcry’s memory will live on through him.  In a ‘bright’ spot, it seems that Brightfern (19) is widely beloved by the Clan.  She always has a kind word for everyone and has been especially comforting to Peakspots in his grief.   Wildcave (60) is also bonding with his little sister and congratulates her for a job well done.  Despite not being directly related to her, Gladepatch (53) feels fondness for Primcrest (19).  She’s part of the reason that his daughter is leader of the Clan and dark-cursed kittens are no longer killed.  He enjoys discussing Clan news with her.  Volcanoblossom (104) is not a fan of Sleepyfoot (43) and Pigeonspot’s (46) kits.  Elmpaw (7) is always bumping into her and Goldenpaw (7) drives her crazy!  Rabbitfur’s (33) mean streak continues to attract other cats to her.  This time, it’s Shard (74) promising to always look out for her.  Hey, if something works, why change it?  In other news, Glowpaw (13) has been given the warrior name of Glowquake, honoring his support.

[oddclangen]

40 Moon - Greenleaf part 2

40 moon p1 - 40 moon p3

Hazelgoat closes her eyes and soon the cold walls of the cave change to the warm wind of StarClan.

When she open her eyes the a familiar cat looking at her. Hazelgoat surprised that she can see him so clearly.

"Fleckglint who..." but before she can finish previous deputy interrupts her.

"You will learn about it later, dont worry," he smiles "for now i can't say a thing, nothing went as this cat planned after all."

Hazelgoat was confused by his statement, seems like something doesn't let Fleckglint tell her everything.

"Seems like am the one to start this one," Fleckglint continued, "kinda ironic when i think about it."

"Everything will be alright?" Hazelgoat nervously asks.

"It Should be," he tried to cheer her up with reassuring smile and the stepped forward. "i give you life for mercy, may you have it for friends and enemies."

Suddenly Hazelgoat felt how life rushed into her, barely able to stand she wasnt sure that she will be able to take all the lives before collapsing.

"It's must be hurd isnt it?"

Hazelgoat lifted her head, before now stood Softwillow. He looked at her with mix of pity and concern.

"Dont worry, not all lives would feel so bad" he continued, coming a bit closer. "I giving you life for bravery, you will need it to lead clan to the future."

Suddenly Hazelgoat felt much better, this live didnt bring any paint, but a sense of... relive? Maybe it's what Softwillow wants her to feel.

Whith small now he goes to the side to his father.

Next cat makes himself known vary quickly.

"Gosh you look terrible," Skyrain mewed with hir usual smug smile.

"Ah, well..." Hazelgoat didnt know what to say back, she really never was good at talking back at him.

Skyrain look became more sympathetic, "well what can you do a leader is a leader." he laughed to himself "You know what, i am going to give you life for certainty and you going to become a great leader alright?"

Hazelgoat awkwardly smiled as Skyrain pressed his nose to her head.

"And no wasting it okay?" Skyrain said before leaving to the side.

Hazelgoat respectfully noded wondering to herself how does it feels to loose a live while knowing you will return, not like she wanted to try.

"Is this the next leader?" She heard young voice from the side.

Three cats now stood in front of her two apprentices Riverpaw and Elmpaw, third one was Bluebellkit happily jumping around her.

"I go first, i go fist!" Bluebellkit jumped right in front of Hazelgoat, she could see that apprentices didnt really liked it, but couldn't object.

Proudly fluffing up his chest Bluebellkit said. "I Bluebellkit giving you life for hope, because it's cool!" then he quickly jumped back.

"Ha-ha so funny," sarcasticly remarked Elmpaw stepping forward. "i giving you live for instincts, because its something we should rely on."

Looking how Elmpaw stepping away, Hazelgoat couldn't help herself but think that maybe when thay found young apprentice body it the forest he couldnt rely on his instinct, and perished from some angry beast.

She was so deep in thoughts that didnt notice Riverpaw already in front of her, which made her jump a little.

"Dont worry," Riverpaw said, "Shystar told me if you would be unfit to lead a Clan you would not make it here.

This words didnt make Hazelgoat feel better, but Riverpaw didnt notice and continued.

" I am giving you life for justice, every leader need one like that."

With this words he slipped away making room for next cat.

She didnt recognize the next cat at first, after all Hazelgoat barely knew Wishfeather. She seemed calm and relaxed. Not wasting any time she dipped her head to Hazelgoat and said.

"I giving you life for sympathy, for cats of all places. dont worry will be done soon."

She smiled at Hazelgoat, and with small nod walked away.

Next cat was trying to not look directly Hazelgoat in the eyes.

She recognized Duzzlefuzz, maybe he was still feeling guilty over that rabbit? But that wasnt really his fault.

" I am going to make this quick, okay?" he was ready ti jump away at any time.

Hazelgoat noded, and Duzzlefuzz continues, "I giving you life for confidence, no matter what you think clan will do well with you as a leader."

Before Hazelgoat could say anything he jumped away.

"We almost done." Shystar appeared next to her.

"Is every leader ceremony so chaotic," Hazelgoat murmered.

"Well we can't really dwell on things do we?" She answered with a smile.

Shystar looked much younger then Hazelstar could ever remember. Maybe that a normal thing in StarClan?

"I am Shystar previous leader of our Clan giving you life for endurance in the face of Hardship." She looked at new leader with cetran confidence in her eyes, "From now on your name will be Hazelstar, guardian of our clan!"

Hazelstar could hear dozen of cats yowling her name in support. StarClan celebrating the new leader,