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Post by Ten on Sept 7, 2008 20:19:24 GMT -5
ooc| Now I've pmed you, Neffy.
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Post by neffy on Sept 8, 2008 15:48:55 GMT -5
ooc: Oops. I forgot you were playing the rat. Powerplaying is not something I tend to slip up on, but I am only human. x3
I'll change it now.
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Post by Ten on Sept 8, 2008 22:09:52 GMT -5
ooc| Forgiven. This isn't the kind of role playing anyone is used to. A rat hunt was the best idea I had to begin with, so I picked it without thinking much about how it would unfold.
bic| Though past its prime, the rat was just dexterous enough to avoid Death - for the moment. Tawnyfur's teeth missed their mark by a fraction and clenched the rat's upper shoulder instead. The blood was also beginning to trickle from its first wound. Struggling and squeaking with terror, the rodent flailed tooth and claw. Woodstripe's green eyes grew round at the sight of it.
Less awed by the rat's slashing and squealing, Frozenheart swiped at it with his thick, white paw. It managed to leave a large scratch on him in return. Then, twisting its body around with uncanny speed, the rat attempted to clench its yellow teeth into Tawnyfur's leg.
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Post by jamie103 on Sept 9, 2008 14:52:46 GMT -5
Blackfur shreiked in horror at the sight of the rat's teeth aiming for Tawnyfur's leg. Desperate to help the she-cat, Blackfur leaped forward and tried to take hold of the rat, aiming for its throat. That scrawny excuse for a rat, she thought. I'll teach it to try and hurt my Clan mates!
The black she-cat felt a fire in her heart that had never been burning before; she had never really taken any risks, just staying back and agreeing with others like a scared little kit. She had never taken any chances, neither for herself nor her Clan. For the first time in my life, I feel... alive! Blackfur knew that she could never again be the polite, mild-mannered cat she had been before. She needed to feed this flame, to let it grow and thrive... and to do that, she would have to become deputy.
Blackfur knew all too well that the Clan had no leader. And no leader, no deputy to replace that leader. But she also knew that Woodstripe wanted to be leader. The way she acted said that. So, maybe she could convince Woodstripe to help her get the Clan back together....
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Post by neffy on Sept 11, 2008 19:02:03 GMT -5
It happened in one fluid moment, instinctively. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw its black head swerve and dive for her leg. Short memories of Brushface telling a young Tawnyfur of how her mother had died from a rat bite. No.
She jerked back the leg its teeth sought, and yowled in fury at the creature who tried to kill her, kill Woodstripe, Blackfur, and Frozenheart too. Her stomach snarled and her green eyes glistened. A final screech receded from Tawnyfur's parted jaws and she bowed her head, teeth exposed, rat in view...
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Post by jamie103 on Sept 11, 2008 19:55:33 GMT -5
Tawnyfur's yowl snapped Blackfur out of her thoughts. She saw the tortishell she-cat's glinting white teeth, her head bowing towards the rat. It was one powerful sight, one that knocked the breath out of Blackfur.
The black she-cat gaped in disbelief at Tawnyfur's fierce display. But she shook her head, gaining back focus on her prey. She swiped at the rodent's back, attempting to leave a gash, trying to weaken it.
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Post by Ten on Sept 11, 2008 20:01:38 GMT -5
The rat's luck ran thin as every cat in the group descended on it. Its muscles squirmed as fang and claw penetrated flesh and blood vessels leaked. The squeaks grew louder, shriller, and more painful to hear - until they cut off. The insidious light in its beady eyes began to dull. Then all that remained of its struggle were a few twitches of the left hind leg.
Licking blood from her jaws, Woodstripe beamed. "There you have it: a successful hunt. Good work. I think you can see from this example how much we need each other in this environment. Only together can we-"
Before she could finish her speech, the white tom began to chow down.
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Post by neffy on Sept 11, 2008 21:29:14 GMT -5
Shaking with wild delight, Tawnyfur glared at her—their—successful kill. Its coarse hair jutted messily around the fresh wounds and most of the rat's body was bathed in its own blood. And there were its eyes; dead, black, and hard with the cynicism of adult life.
She averted her gaze to Frozenheart, who had already begun to chew and swallow. Her mouth watered and she succumbed to the complaint of her whining belly.
She gorged on the rat, saliva and rat flinging sloppily about her hungry face. It was so good. This and only this was what kept her alive one more day. Her love for hunting, and her love for meat. Oh, and there was always Brushface.
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Post by Ten on Sept 12, 2008 13:31:12 GMT -5
Woodstripe's pale-green eyes narrowed, insulted. She would have liked for them to have listened to her monologue but would have to forgo that for now. That didn't mean she'd stay quiet, though.
"Excuse me? This whole hunt was my idea. I suggested it; I'm the hungry one. Blackfur, Tawnyfur, get my brother to stop stuffing his face so I can have a chance."
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Post by jamie103 on Sept 12, 2008 14:34:30 GMT -5
Blackfur smiled at the dead rat. A successful kill—one of her first. Usually her brother did the hunting; but after this experience, she would never again succumb to her fear of most things and wait for a meal. In fact, that fear had dwindled down to a mere thread of doubt and reason.
No longer letting her belly growl with hunger, Blackfur ripped off a juicy morsel of the prey and contently chewed it up. She hadn't remembered the last time she had eaten meat; but this hopefully wasn't it. The tender rat meat was warm and succulent on her tongue, and her taste buds were hot with delight.
Then came Woodstripe's mew. Of course, Blackfur knew she would have to be considerate—especially towards a possible future leader. After all, being deputy meant equal treatment to her Clan. So the she-cat ripped off a piece of rat for Woodstripe, and dropped it at her paws.
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