#monkshoodclan: art

[monkshoodclan]

MOON TWO

No content warnings apply :)

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[monkshoodclan]

"Stormpaw?" A squeak came from the darkness.

"Fallenpaw." It wasn't a greeting, but a warning.

The following characters are open for questions:

Stormpaw (he/him)

Fallenpaw (he/him)

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Hello! I am the author of this silly project, and I'd like to share it with you all!

This project is based a lot on the game Warriors fangame, ClanGen. I use the "FullGen" mod with it though, which gives the cats accurate genotypes and phenotypes, along with many other features (multi-sire litters, stillborns, larger litters, more eye colors, et cetera!) to enhance my personal preference in gameplay.

Keep in mind that this story will handle darker themes than the base series 'Warriors' does, and attempts to handle it with care. If you'd like to critique my writing of these topics, then please send me an ask or DM so I can become a better writer.

I use he/him pronouns.

Psst, come take the uQuiz to see what character you are in the MonkshoodClan Universe! Possible spoilers, for new readers.

[monkshoodclan]

Moon 1.5

All images below the cut!

That's the bridge between Moon 1 and Moon 2!! enjoy! :)

[monkshoodclan]

She glares at you.

[monkshoodclan]

He doesn't respond.

[monkshoodclan]

MOON ONE

Content warning: Physical abuse, blood, and implied starvation.

Fallenpaw was tired. The soot covers the moorland still, and Stormpaw hadn’t spoken to him in days. The two of them had, silently, agreed to not talk about their first moon. It was lonesome. He’d gone out alone to hunt, and brought back only a few mice from the edge of their border with MinnowClan. He’d dodged a border patrol.

Now, he was just laying in his nest, staring blankly at the wall of the den. The den they were staying in, once the Apothecary’s den, was half-woven into the wall and sunken lower into the ground, with offshoots of burrows that Larchtail had carved.

Larchtail.

Stormpaw hated Fallenpaw’s guts.

Fallenpaw was alone in the den, Stormpaw having gone out to hunt about an hour ago. The black-furred apprentice stands, making his way to the prey pile to grab something to cook. He wanted to do something for Stormpaw, to avoid getting yelled at by the one cat he knew.

Stormpaw had been going out for longer and longer periods of time. Fallenpaw was scared that one day, he just wouldn’t come back. The thought of such loneliness, so alike to the one he felt now, made Fallenpaw terrified.

He heard the wind pick up, and tasted the air. He sneezed, and began to cough for a moment. The smoke hadn’t left, and the soot stung his lungs. Fallenpaw shook his head, and began to make his way over to the prey pile, sorting through the single bird and few mice. His stomach growled, but he shook his head, picking up the largest of the mice and starting to walk over to his cooking set, when suddenly–

SLAM!

Stormpaw barreled into him, claws unsheathed, and bared his fangs. Fallenpaw scrambled for a moment, but held onto the prey in his mouth. The dust and soot of the ground would sully the meat. Stormpaw let out a low snarl, and Fallenpaw whimpered. The black tabby leaned back, one paw still with claws in Fallenpaw’s head, and stepped away a bit. Fallenpaw tried to rise to his paws, but Stormpaw’s claw pushed down, and he had to crouch.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His once-clanmate snarled.

Fallenpaw couldn’t speak, eyes looking up at Stormpaw with fear unbound. Was this it? The last straw? Was Stormpaw going to kill him, and dump him in The Snaking River, like his mind told him? Was he to die, alone like this?

Something in Stormpaw’s expression shifted. Fallenpaw couldn’t pinpoint it. He leaned down and hissed.

“I can’t stand you. You take my caught prey, hard earned. and are ungrateful. Pick up the slack, badger-boy.”

Blood ran down the side of his face. Fallenpaw could feel it, slick and wet along his fur. His head throbbed. He just stared at Stormpaw. His words reverberated through his mind. Badger-boy.

“Say you’re the cause of this.” Stormpaw’s snarl cuts through Fallenpaw’s pain, and he nods in surprise. Stormpaw steps back, claws moving from his former clanmate’s head. Fallenpaw crouches there a moment longer before standing. He makes his way over to his cooking set, and begins to prepare the mouse to cook.

The blood runs cool across his face. It drips onto his wooden tool as he begins to dice the meat. Fallenpaw doesn’t wipe it away.

After cooking that silent meal, skewed stuffed mouse with no sauce, Fallenpaw leaves it for Stormpaw. He then turns and leaves, not bothering to clean up the blood that had crusted across his head. He needs space, and to hunt. The two of them need to eat.

The moorland is tarnished.

Soot smears the grasses and ash hangs heavy in the air, and dots the land with pale freckles. Fallenpaw makes his way up to the tallest ridge, and stands upon the Peak Rock, and watches the moor. The winds stir the plants, and rustle each blade. Fallenpaw had been up here only once in his entire life, the day before the fire.

Velvetstar had taken him up here after her exhausting dawn patrol. Such a small clan had left them all tired. Fallenpaw was allowed to sleep in though, as he’d done the guard watch for the whole of the day prior. They’d gone out, and practiced hunting. Velvetstar had commented on his crouch, and they practiced how to specialize each one, in case they needed to chase their prey.

He’d felt proud.

Fallenpaw stares at the battered territory. No reason to go back to that day. She’d left for the dusk patrol, and only Badgerleaf had returned, blood across his pelt and chest. He’d spun a tale of lies. His mentor, killing? His mother, angered? His father, a hero?

Falsities on every level.

Fallenpaw had gone out to clear his head, when the storm brewed.

He shakes his head, clearing it of the ash. The wind was still blowing towards him, so he’d have a good shot at some prey. Fallenpaw turns, and then screams.

“OH! Hello, uhm!” Fallenpaw stutters.

The cat looks down at him. They are HUGE. Anxiety stabs into his heart, but Fallenpaw listens as they speak.

“Hello, are you from MoorClan?” They say, voice with a strange drawl. If they knew anything, they’d say it had a thick DuckClan accent, tinged with something he couldn’t put his paw on. Fallenpaw stutters out an undignified response.

“Uh huh! I–uh–think?” He cringes. What in the Place of No Stars was that? Not a good response, that's for sure. He tries again as the cat looks at him to elaborate.

“Well, the fire and all that kind of… y’know… burned..” He hated the way his voice squeaked. He was 7 moons, star-damnit! He could talk to a stranger, even if it was his first time! He’d never been to a Gathering, but he was sure it was just like this.

After a silence, the cat spoke again.

“Is your apothecary alive?” They spoke with such hope. Such a desire to… well… Fallenpaw looked down at his paws, shaking his head slowly. There was silence for a long moment. The wind whipped around them both.

“How many of you are left?” They ask. Fallenpaw feels tears fill his eyes.

“Just uh.. Two…” He manages to squeak out.

The cat’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry for your…” Fallenpaw’s ear flicks at her trailing off, but looks up to notice her staring at his open wound, starting to scab a little. He shrinks a little under their gaze.

“What’s your name, little cat?” They say, voice smoothing over in an attempt at comfort. Fallenpaw hates it. He doesn’t need anyone's pity.

He just wants his mother back.

“Fallenpaw. Uhm, he and him. My clanmate is called Stormpaw. Same words for him.” The small black cat manages to squeak out. They nod.

“I’m Rivers, she ‘n her. Nice to meet you, Fallenpaw,” She says, “I want to help you out. You ’on’t look like you’ve been eatin’ right. Has your.. uhm… clanmate been eatin’ the same as you?”

Fallenpaw is silent. He hates this. He wants to go home, and not talk to anyone ever again. He wants the world to forget him. Hell, Stormpaw already ‘forgets’ to hunt for him sometimes. He hates this. He speaks, a lie on his lips.

“Yeah, we’ve been struggling…” He doesn’t know what to say after that. He continues. “...but we don’t need any help! I’ve been learning to hunt better so I can help out.”

Rivers is silent. Fallenpaw hangs his head in shame. She pauses, and sighs.

“A’right, take me to your camp. I wanna help out.” Her voice grows soft, and Fallenpaw can’t stand to look at her. Her voice feels insincere, and it scares Fallenpaw. He doesn’t want to accept her help. They’re perfectly fine without help.

MoorClan will rise from the ashes.

“Okay, follow me.” The traitor within him speaks through his lips. Fallenpaw hates it.

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Rivers has joined the clan! She takes on the new name of Sunchaser, which is given by Stormpaw.

[monkshoodclan]

Leadership.

Cornstar (any pronouns) — The leader of DuckClan, former kittypet. Known for their cunning and clever leadership style. Somehow, has blackmail on every single leader and their medics.

Shellstar (he/him) — The leader of MinnowClan, and son of the previous leader, Silentstar. Known for his aggressive campaign for MoorClan’s territory. His daughter, Troutstripe, is the deputy of MinnowClan.

Velvetstar (she/her) — The (previous) leader of MoorClan. Known for her ideals, alongside her death.

Windbreak (they/them) — The leader of HeavyClan, refused to take a name nor lives. Known for both their brother, Badgerleaf, who left for MoorClan upon their appointment to deputy, and their peaceful nature.

Individual busts below the cut.

Psst, you should take this uQuiz and tell me what you get in the askbox!

[monkshoodclan]

*Note, I misspelt Badger. whoops!

[monkshoodclan]

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[monkshoodclan]

Fallenpaw and stormpaw! How did you two meet?

When asked, they both reply...

[monkshoodclan]

[monkshoodclan]

[monkshoodclan]

Perhaps he'll be more inclined to answer the question fully at a later time.

[monkshoodclan]

What happened to make eachother and your families such a sore subject?