Post by STREAMY ?! on Dec 11, 2007 20:05:34 GMT -5
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Name: Tangle
Age: 47 moons
Gender: Tom
Clan/Rank: Rogue
Picture:
Tanglepaw
Tangledream/Tangle
Physical Description:
Tangle is a marbled tom, relatively dark-pelted for his breed. His pelt looks almost as if someone splashed coffee over it. Underneath the dark splotches, however, there is a much lighter gold, particularly on his face and near his paws. He is a relatively large cat, brawny more than speedy – though that isn’t to say he’s slow.
Quite well-muscled, Tangle has excellent balance. He likes water and swimming perhaps a little too much, and was often to be found playing in the bathtub during his kittypet days. It helps that his pelt isn’t all that thick, and thus doesn’t take forever to dry off. Fishing is rarely something he’ll say no to, especially as he usually manages to actually catch fish nowadays – as versus merely falling face-first into the water.
The rogue has a jutting, stubborn jaw that has seen many seasons of “I won’t do this” and “I shan’t do that.” Emotions – both surface emotions and the deeper ones – flit across his face, though he can close this conduit off if he really works at it, not that he tries to do so particularly hard nowadays.
All this, however, is a side of the tom that one will see only if they catch him at a quiet moment. When he’s sleeping, for example. When he’s moving about, the first thing most notice is how unkempt he is. He almost never bothers to groom himself, result in a pelt that’s matted and dirty. His battle-scars are numerous, though he doesn’t really remember where he got most of them.
Upon closer inspection, one would notice that Tangle’s eyes are quite wild, as well. It’s enough to make one wonder if he has much sanity left at all, especially as dried blood and the like can occasionally be found between his claws – and one of the emotions found in his expression is usually either anger or bloodlust. Often-times, it’s both.
Personality:
Secretive and semi-outgoing, Tangle can get away with almost anything. During his kitten days, he perfected the art of deception and getting his parents to agree to almost anything. He has no qualms about lying when he deems that the action is necessary, and this seems to happen more often than not. He can keep a straight face when telling the wildest of tales, and for this reason is often (and easily) believed.
Generally sarcastic, completely cynical, or raving mad, Tangle is – rather obviously – not an easily approachable figure. Once upon a time he was caring and, while prickly, relatively sympathetic towards others. No longer. That side of him seems to have been buried beneath seasons of who-knows-what; certainly not rainbows and fields of daisies.
Angry at the world in general and prone to extreme mood swings, he is not the most stable of beings, to say the least. He will literally kill someone if he gets angry enough without a thought for the consequences. At the same time, he can be a cool head in an argument if the mood strikes him, debating whatever the topic is until the end of the world.
Turning a cold face towards the world, he now possesses a ‘that’s the way the world works’ outlook on most things, good and bad. Though he gets worked up over the little things, he doesn’t care much for ‘the big picture’ or what will happen tomorrow. Not exactly suicidal, neither does Tangle care a whole lot whether he lives or dies at the moment. He certainly doesn’t care whether anybody else does.
Having decided that traveling in large groups is what will be the downfall of all who try it (honestly – look at the Clans), he tends to keep himself to himself unless he decides to be talkative and/or someone else approaches him. Usually, if someone else speaks to him, he’ll respond, if not in the way they expect. On his ‘bad days’ – if any of his days can be called good – he’ll just ignore the speaker.
Actually, on such days, the tom honestly doesn’t necessarily notice that others are there. He’ll jump between the ‘real world’ and his mind-world, occasionally acknowledging that other things exist, but mostly talking to the spectral figments of his own mind. Arguing with them, apologizing to them, muttering about them, plotting with them. To the innocent bystander, it’s a rather scary sight.
Though he retains the hate of Twolegs and hawks and the fear of cages he has had since kithood, the thing Tangle actually hates most is probably himself, for various reasons and though he most likely couldn’t actually name this hatred and would deny it if questioned. Instead, he takes it out on whatever’s around him…which generally doesn’t mean anything good for his surroundings.
History:
“There’s no way to change destiny.”
“There’s nothing you could say, there’s nothing you could do, there’s no other way when it comes to the truth…”
“If you look in the mirror and don’t like what you see you can find out firsthand what it’s like to be me.”
“Turn away, ’cause I’m awful just to see…counting down the days to go.”
“When all the colors of the wide world are crushed into black and white…”
“It was a lie when they smiled and said ‘you won’t feel a thing’.”
“’Cause nothing’s going right, and everything’s a mess, and no one likes to be alone…”
“You killed her. You killed her!”
Irisflame of RiverClan’s secret relationship with Hunter the kittypet went against the Warrior Code in many ways. For one thing, his father was a kittypet and Clanners weren’t allowed to have out-of-Clan mates. As if that weren’t enough to condemn whatever kits they had, Irisflame was RiverClan’s medicine cat – and medicine cats are not allowed to love, let alone have kits with, anyone.
But have kits they did: one healthy kit, named Tangle, and a stillborn one. Somehow, Irisflame managed to escape most suspicion by staying in her den much of the time, and then fleeing to Hunter’s during the birth. She disappeared for about two weeks after her kits were born, as she regained her strength and made sure that the kittens were strong enough to survive without her for a few hours each day. She returned to her Clan with a story about wandering ever so slightly off RiverClan’s territory and being attacked by rogues. She was lightly scolded for wandering, but there were no consequences.
Irisflame visited her kits daily for three moons, but people eventually started to get suspicious: how many times did you need to gather herbs, anyway? Wouldn’t once a week suffice, even if it meant that you were out most of the day? They watched her more carefully, but the medicine cat only got more sneaky.
Meanwhile, Tangle was growing up. He was taught by Hunter the art of catching mice, and luckily his Twolegs had wanted another pet, anyway, deciding to keep him. The tom made other friends around the neighborhood, too, but he always wished to follow his mother into the forest: Tangle had always been somewhat headstrong and wanted adventure to worm its way into his so-called boring life.
Unfortunately, he got what he wished for.
During one of his mother’s visits – which were growing less frequent as he aged – she was followed by one of her Clanmates, who was also one of her best friends. The she-cat, a warrior by the name of Edgebrook, saw Irisflame and Hunter together, and then saw how much Tangle looked like both of her parents. It was easy to put two and two together, that time.
Edgebrook revealed herself, hissing that Irisflame had betrayed her Clan and their friendship. How could she have forgotten the Warrior Code that had once meant so much to her? Tangle watched from the shadows as his mother and father pleaded with the warrior, for they knew the fate that awaited a medicine cat with kits.
Finally, Edgebrook backed down. She warned Irisflame that nothing good could come of this, before turning back to camp. Once she’d gone, Tangle confronted his mother as well. In all the stories she had told of the Clans, in all the lessons she had given him about fighting and hunting and loyalty, in all the sessions in which he was taught what the Warrior Code was about, she had left out two important things: that she was a medicine cat, and that medicine cats could not fall in love or have kits.
Her vague responses of “when you fall in love, you’ll know” did not help in any way. He was finally convinced that his mother had done what she thought best – he knew her well enough to understand that, at least. But the kit also began to see that maybe, just maybe, the Clans were not as perfect and wonderful as the stories had made them out to be. Just as fierce, maybe, but if they condemned someone for love…
Irisflame had always hidden herself from the Twolegs before. She, like most of her Clanmates, disliked humans, though she knew enough to be wary of them and their monsters and their shiny, hard metal things. She had often tried to convince Hunter to follow her into the forest, really, but he said that he had a good life with them and was not interested in living by the Clanners’ rules or fighting in their battles. Their blood did not sing in his veins as it did in hers.
However, nothing happened that time.
She forgot, once again, the next time she came. Her fur was ruffled and she was half-wild and distraught. Tangle had never seen her like this, no more than had Hunter. She gasped that they had been found, that her family was in danger from angry Clanners’ claws… Tangle, quite honestly, didn’t believe that they were in danger. Hunter had seen them kill each other before, though, in the beginning of his courtship of Irisflame – he knew what they were capable of.
When Hunter ushered Irisflame towards their gates and ordered Tangle to follow, the four-moon-old kit refused. He countered that all three of them knew how to fight if need be, and surely they’d be a match for whatever the Clan cats could throw at them. He underestimated his mother’s friends. He also underestimated the Twolegs.
The female Twoleg came outside to find a skinny, ragged-looking feral cat standing in her front yard. She screamed, and Irisflame spun with her claws unsheathed. She hissed like a mad thing, causing the Twoleg to stumble back fearfully and scream for her husband to bring a weapon.
The husband heard the request only as he was running through the door – he turned a few steps and grabbed an umbrella, weilding it like a demented sword of some kind. The male twoleg had roughly the same reaction as the female, though he didn’t scream: he was slightly more prepared. Instead, he jabbed at Irisflame with the umbrella.
She hissed again and clawed at it, ripping the thin cloth to little more than ragged shreds: it was meant to keep off the rain, not an angry and terrified cat. She also managed to bend one of the wires that held the umbrella in a circular ring when opened. While the ferocity of her attack would have scared a cat away, or at least caused them to have second thoughts, it only made the Twolegs more sure that she had to be disposed of.
The woman ran in and got an umbrella as well, and though Hunter joined the battle on his mate’s side, it was lost before it had begun. The Twolegs were just too strong, too big. Both cats tried to fight back, hissing, clawing, and yowling as much as they could, but it did no good against the onslaught of blows. The more each fought, the harder the blows came. Finally, Hunter gave one last twitch before lying still, and Irisflame whimpered, dragging herself over to her fallen mate. She then let out an ear-shattering howl, which made the Twolegs startle and turn back. They moved as if nothing had happened as they walked inside.
Hunter was clearly dead, tears streaming down Irisflame’s cheeks from the mingled pain of his wounds and loss of his mate. Tangle had been frozen with terror during much of the battle, but now he approached his mother, whimpering. It was all his fault, he thought; if they had fled, if he had fought back as well…
Shuddering and sobbing, he begged his mother to come with him to the forest and the Clans, come away from the awful place he had mistakenly called his home. Irisflame shook her head, though, saying that her time was past. She had died with her mate, and with the injuries she had sustained here, she would never be able to really live again – never be able to hunt, fight, run, climb, swim; anything. Besides, her Clan would never again accept her as one of them. No, it was best he be left to die here.
No matter how much Tangle argued, and pleaded, and cried, Irisflame stood firm, though it hurt her to see her son so pained. Tangle stood beside his mother to the she-cat’s last breath. It was about this time that a patrol of RiverClan cats finally found their way to the Twoleg home; they had lost Irisflame’s trail in the streets and had taken quite a while to find it again.
Tangle didn’t bother with pleasantries. He told the RiverClan cats bluntly that both of his parents were dead thanks to them – their medicine cat and her mate, who defended her to his last breath. Was this what they’d wanted? he asked cruelly. Did they hate her so badly, was StarClan so cruel as to condemn a cat for following their heart? In life, he had had his disputes with his parents. But right here, right now, he would defend them forever if he had to.
Somehow, the patrol convinced the distraught, angry, and half-crazed tom to come with them back to camp, where they could sort everything out. The leader let Tangle stay, largely thanks to the fact that his mother had been a member of the Clan, they were at least partially responsible for her death, and Edgebrook’s lobbying for him to stay.
He was then re-named Tanglekit and given to Edgebrook to mother, though she had no kits of her own. A moon ago, he received the name Tanglepaw, with Edgebrook as his mentor. The two had grown close, and the newly-named Tanglepaw was happy – he was even beginning to be considered as less of an outcast among his fellow apprentices.
Then the hawk struck. The bird attacked Tanglepaw when he and Edgebrook were out training. He fought back – he was more advanced than the usual run of apprentice, due to his parents’ teachings – as did Edgebrook. But though they drove the thing away, it caught Edgebrook with a killing blow as it flew away: little more than an hour later, the medicine cat pronounced her dead.
Tanglepaw’s next mentor was, in the eyes of the Clan, a raving lunatic. No one was entirely sure why Oceanstar paired the two of them together, and she was given quite a bit of criticism for giving an “innocent, impressionable apprentice” a mentor such as Onestep.
Unlikely as it may have seemed, Tanglepaw and Onestep grew to be relatively good friends: on his part, Tanglepaw began to feel as if Onestep was basically the only one in his Clan that he could actually confide in. But then, of course, things started going horribly wrong.
Onestep had a love interest of his own: Shadepaw. Unfortunately, she and anotherRiverClan warrior – Jayfeather – were already mates, and he figured he had no hope to get her. At the same time, he and Jayfeather were rather bitter rivals. Onestep was a schizophrenic, and the voice ever residing inside his head was forever trying to get him to kill the other tom. Jayfeather, for his part, was too noble a warrior to even consider killing a Clanmate. But harming him a bit, to teach him a lesson? Well, he was willing to do that.
Onestep stared at his soon-to-be-mate with such a need, such a longing, that it made Jayfeather intensely nervous and, yes, jealous. Shadepaw’s heart was his, but he could not help feeling that something could be drawing her nearer to Onestep. So he suggested a hunting patrol, just him and the rival tom.
To go or not to go? The question had been popping in and out of Onestep’s mind all day. The voice in his head demanded he stay behind, knew nothing good would come of it, but he – for whatever reason – went. That was to be what ended everything.
To say the least, Onestep (paranoid to the extreme) was not an exemplary hunter. To add onto that, today was not one of his better days. Many prey-beasts escaped him, for he kept making wrong step after wrong step. But there was a look in Jayfeather’s eyes he did not like. And after being taunted by his mind-voice for missing the catches, being warned constantly about something Jayfeather might be plotting, Onestep was about to break.
Apparently, he wouldn’t have to do it himself.
It happened when he was stalking a vole. It seemed the perfect catch, the golden moment of an otherwise-terrible day. Onestep was precisely downwind, he was treading more carefully and feeling more focused than he had all day, ignoring the snapping twigs coming from behind him. It would have been better if he hadn’t.
The next thing Onestep knew, claws sharp as thorns were tearing along his pelt, teeth finding refuge in any space they could find. Onestep screeched in shocked terror and tried to fight back, but the black cat was too strong and kept him pinned beneath him as he inflicted his torture.
Long moments later, Onestep had managed to squirm out from under Jayfeather’s and flee. Bleeding, wounded, scratches and bites throbbing with searing pain, bloody, and broken, Onestep ran as best he could, though he knew he could not escape the stronger warrior for long.
To try to stay away from getting shredded even more for just a moment longer, Onestep hid in some reeds by a small stream, the clear water turning red. Terror gripped his body; Jayfeather could be standing just beside the bush, waiting for the slightest glimmer of a white pelt to seek his chance. Onestep stood, trembling, waiting.
Tanglepaw had followed his mentor. Jayfeather and Onestep alone? It did not give him a good feeling in the least. He came to a spot on the ground drenched in blood. One sniff told him it was his mentor’s. He feared for the tom, especially considering the large amount of blood that created a trail in front of him – and the scent of Jayfeather that followed this trail.
Something black flashed by. Jayfeather, the one that had committed this crime. It was time to right this wrong, in the only way Tanglepaw could think of at the time. In a panic and not really thinking straight, he followed the two warriors.
The apprenticed, running mostly on adrenaline, managed to overtake Jayfeather. There was a stream ahead, literally running read with blood. Onestep’s blood. There was a gorge, too, relatively nearby. Tanglepaw could never stand up to a cat like Jayfeather in a fight; just look at what he did to poor Onestep. But not even the strong, ‘noble’ Jayfeather could survive a fall like that. It was perfect.
He timed it just right. No second thoughts now, no turning back. Tanglepaw leaped from his cover and rammed into Jayfeather. In his rage and battle fury Jayfeather didn’t even realize that this cat was dark and marbled, not white and black. He changed his course to follow Tanglepaw.
He nearly fell over the gorge on his own. He had just lost sight of Tanglepaw and had skidded to a halt inches away from the edge. Then a dark shape appeared behind him. Jayfeather turned around, surprised to see who it was he saw. “Tanglepaw? What are you doing here?” His question was an honest one, though tinged with fear: though he had not killed Onestep, if Tanglepaw had seen what had happened, he could get in a lot of trouble nevertheless…
“Onestep will not be lost,” was Tanglepaw’s furious response, a hint of what could happen in the future. “You have no right.” It made little sense to Jayfeather. How could any cat stand up for Onestep, of all creatures? The bi-colored cat was like a fox: borderline stupid and ready to turn on you at any moment.
He was about to snarl something nasty about the aforementioned cat for just that reason, but he suddenly found that there was no more solid ground beneath his feet. And then he was falling. His bright blue eyes mirrored the expression on Tanglepaw’s face (now peering over the edge of the gorge), full of terror and shock. Then…it was gone. All gone. A blue jay sang from a tree, its plume once matching Jayfeather’s eyes. But now those eyes were the pale color of death, their spirit taken by StarClan.
Astonished by what he’d done – having been planning to kill Jayfeather without really thinking of the actual event of death, just how to accomplish it. Tanglepaw went into a full-blown panic for a couple minutes, until an inner voice he hadn’t known he had appeared, somehow convincing him that it was all Onestep’s fault. Onestep had done it, not him: he was merely an innocent bystander. Really.
Tanglepaw returned to camp, bedraggled and confused. He was asked where he’d been; he mumbled something about a cliff and a fight and broken and confused and Jayfeather and Onestep. And fur between the claws. There was a wild look in the apprentice’s eyes, though his Clanmates finally got him calmed down and into the medicine cat’s den.
As he was administered to, Oceanstar called out a patrol of cats, knowing that Tanglepaw was obviously quite shaken up (though it was for a different reason than the leader ever imagined) and probably not in a state to tell them much of anything at the moment. After combing the territory, they found a freaking out Onestep…and a dead Jayfeather.
A dead Jayfeather with Onestep’s fur between his claws. It all fit. Assumptions were made conclusions reached; Tanglepaw didn’t even need to say anything. It didn’t help that Onestep refused to stick up for himself, either. Despite her feelings for the warrior, Shadepaw – Jayfeather’s old mate – was calling for blood.
Nearly killed, it was finally decided that Onestep would merely be exiled, killed if he ever set foot on StormClan territory again. Part-gratefully (and partially wishing he had been killed, for he hated what he was now convinced he’d done), Onestep fled.
For moons, Tanglepaw lived with what he’d done, somehow erasing it from his mind and coming to believe that what had happened wasn’t actually true. That, in fact, it was Onestep’s fault. In the time that passed, he became Tangledream, a warrior of StormClan, and even began to feel a bit accepted.
When walking along the fateful gorge with another cat one night, his companion is – for a split second – in a position almost identical to Jayfeather’s, all those moons ago. Struck with complete déjà vu, everything comes flooding back in an almost movie-like fashion. Basically, the warrior gets a bit hysterical, starts screaming that he’s a murderer, and before his Clanmate can completely register the change or try and help him, he runs away.
Searching for days to find Onestep, somehow the warrior finally runs into his old mentor. It’s a weird conversation the two have, a little bit wariness, a lot of apologies, and a lot of convincing Onestep that Tangledream was the one in the wrong even though that wasn’t entirely what either of them remembered.
The two returned to StormClan, somehow the story came out without anybody killing Onestep, and Tangledream came very close to being mobbed, and equally close to being killed. Luckily for him, he was a fast runner.
For those first few moons, Tangledream wandered around in a bit of a shock. He couldn’t quite believe what he had done, and wasn’t sure how to come to terms with it. Betraying the only friend he had had; killing a cat for no real reason; then lying about all of it. At least up until a short while ago.
During that time, his name somehow morphed from its original warrior status to merely ‘Tangle.’ Unlike Tangledream, Tangle became a hard-hearted creature that cared only for himself, and even the latter was debatable.
By the time he had (mostly) recovered himself and what he called his sanity, the Clans had gone to war against one another for a reason that he found utterly stupid. On the other hand, as he had managed to overcome his hatred of killing (now having killed more cats than merely Onestep…), he found it almost amusing watching them try to rip themselves to shreds over whether or not StarClan was real.
-cont. in next post-
Name: Tangle
Age: 47 moons
Gender: Tom
Clan/Rank: Rogue
Picture:
Tanglepaw
Tangledream/Tangle
Physical Description:
Tangle is a marbled tom, relatively dark-pelted for his breed. His pelt looks almost as if someone splashed coffee over it. Underneath the dark splotches, however, there is a much lighter gold, particularly on his face and near his paws. He is a relatively large cat, brawny more than speedy – though that isn’t to say he’s slow.
Quite well-muscled, Tangle has excellent balance. He likes water and swimming perhaps a little too much, and was often to be found playing in the bathtub during his kittypet days. It helps that his pelt isn’t all that thick, and thus doesn’t take forever to dry off. Fishing is rarely something he’ll say no to, especially as he usually manages to actually catch fish nowadays – as versus merely falling face-first into the water.
The rogue has a jutting, stubborn jaw that has seen many seasons of “I won’t do this” and “I shan’t do that.” Emotions – both surface emotions and the deeper ones – flit across his face, though he can close this conduit off if he really works at it, not that he tries to do so particularly hard nowadays.
All this, however, is a side of the tom that one will see only if they catch him at a quiet moment. When he’s sleeping, for example. When he’s moving about, the first thing most notice is how unkempt he is. He almost never bothers to groom himself, result in a pelt that’s matted and dirty. His battle-scars are numerous, though he doesn’t really remember where he got most of them.
Upon closer inspection, one would notice that Tangle’s eyes are quite wild, as well. It’s enough to make one wonder if he has much sanity left at all, especially as dried blood and the like can occasionally be found between his claws – and one of the emotions found in his expression is usually either anger or bloodlust. Often-times, it’s both.
Personality:
Secretive and semi-outgoing, Tangle can get away with almost anything. During his kitten days, he perfected the art of deception and getting his parents to agree to almost anything. He has no qualms about lying when he deems that the action is necessary, and this seems to happen more often than not. He can keep a straight face when telling the wildest of tales, and for this reason is often (and easily) believed.
Generally sarcastic, completely cynical, or raving mad, Tangle is – rather obviously – not an easily approachable figure. Once upon a time he was caring and, while prickly, relatively sympathetic towards others. No longer. That side of him seems to have been buried beneath seasons of who-knows-what; certainly not rainbows and fields of daisies.
Angry at the world in general and prone to extreme mood swings, he is not the most stable of beings, to say the least. He will literally kill someone if he gets angry enough without a thought for the consequences. At the same time, he can be a cool head in an argument if the mood strikes him, debating whatever the topic is until the end of the world.
Turning a cold face towards the world, he now possesses a ‘that’s the way the world works’ outlook on most things, good and bad. Though he gets worked up over the little things, he doesn’t care much for ‘the big picture’ or what will happen tomorrow. Not exactly suicidal, neither does Tangle care a whole lot whether he lives or dies at the moment. He certainly doesn’t care whether anybody else does.
Having decided that traveling in large groups is what will be the downfall of all who try it (honestly – look at the Clans), he tends to keep himself to himself unless he decides to be talkative and/or someone else approaches him. Usually, if someone else speaks to him, he’ll respond, if not in the way they expect. On his ‘bad days’ – if any of his days can be called good – he’ll just ignore the speaker.
Actually, on such days, the tom honestly doesn’t necessarily notice that others are there. He’ll jump between the ‘real world’ and his mind-world, occasionally acknowledging that other things exist, but mostly talking to the spectral figments of his own mind. Arguing with them, apologizing to them, muttering about them, plotting with them. To the innocent bystander, it’s a rather scary sight.
Though he retains the hate of Twolegs and hawks and the fear of cages he has had since kithood, the thing Tangle actually hates most is probably himself, for various reasons and though he most likely couldn’t actually name this hatred and would deny it if questioned. Instead, he takes it out on whatever’s around him…which generally doesn’t mean anything good for his surroundings.
History:
“There’s no way to change destiny.”
“There’s nothing you could say, there’s nothing you could do, there’s no other way when it comes to the truth…”
“If you look in the mirror and don’t like what you see you can find out firsthand what it’s like to be me.”
“Turn away, ’cause I’m awful just to see…counting down the days to go.”
“When all the colors of the wide world are crushed into black and white…”
“It was a lie when they smiled and said ‘you won’t feel a thing’.”
“’Cause nothing’s going right, and everything’s a mess, and no one likes to be alone…”
“You killed her. You killed her!”
Irisflame of RiverClan’s secret relationship with Hunter the kittypet went against the Warrior Code in many ways. For one thing, his father was a kittypet and Clanners weren’t allowed to have out-of-Clan mates. As if that weren’t enough to condemn whatever kits they had, Irisflame was RiverClan’s medicine cat – and medicine cats are not allowed to love, let alone have kits with, anyone.
But have kits they did: one healthy kit, named Tangle, and a stillborn one. Somehow, Irisflame managed to escape most suspicion by staying in her den much of the time, and then fleeing to Hunter’s during the birth. She disappeared for about two weeks after her kits were born, as she regained her strength and made sure that the kittens were strong enough to survive without her for a few hours each day. She returned to her Clan with a story about wandering ever so slightly off RiverClan’s territory and being attacked by rogues. She was lightly scolded for wandering, but there were no consequences.
Irisflame visited her kits daily for three moons, but people eventually started to get suspicious: how many times did you need to gather herbs, anyway? Wouldn’t once a week suffice, even if it meant that you were out most of the day? They watched her more carefully, but the medicine cat only got more sneaky.
Meanwhile, Tangle was growing up. He was taught by Hunter the art of catching mice, and luckily his Twolegs had wanted another pet, anyway, deciding to keep him. The tom made other friends around the neighborhood, too, but he always wished to follow his mother into the forest: Tangle had always been somewhat headstrong and wanted adventure to worm its way into his so-called boring life.
Unfortunately, he got what he wished for.
During one of his mother’s visits – which were growing less frequent as he aged – she was followed by one of her Clanmates, who was also one of her best friends. The she-cat, a warrior by the name of Edgebrook, saw Irisflame and Hunter together, and then saw how much Tangle looked like both of her parents. It was easy to put two and two together, that time.
Edgebrook revealed herself, hissing that Irisflame had betrayed her Clan and their friendship. How could she have forgotten the Warrior Code that had once meant so much to her? Tangle watched from the shadows as his mother and father pleaded with the warrior, for they knew the fate that awaited a medicine cat with kits.
Finally, Edgebrook backed down. She warned Irisflame that nothing good could come of this, before turning back to camp. Once she’d gone, Tangle confronted his mother as well. In all the stories she had told of the Clans, in all the lessons she had given him about fighting and hunting and loyalty, in all the sessions in which he was taught what the Warrior Code was about, she had left out two important things: that she was a medicine cat, and that medicine cats could not fall in love or have kits.
Her vague responses of “when you fall in love, you’ll know” did not help in any way. He was finally convinced that his mother had done what she thought best – he knew her well enough to understand that, at least. But the kit also began to see that maybe, just maybe, the Clans were not as perfect and wonderful as the stories had made them out to be. Just as fierce, maybe, but if they condemned someone for love…
Irisflame had always hidden herself from the Twolegs before. She, like most of her Clanmates, disliked humans, though she knew enough to be wary of them and their monsters and their shiny, hard metal things. She had often tried to convince Hunter to follow her into the forest, really, but he said that he had a good life with them and was not interested in living by the Clanners’ rules or fighting in their battles. Their blood did not sing in his veins as it did in hers.
However, nothing happened that time.
She forgot, once again, the next time she came. Her fur was ruffled and she was half-wild and distraught. Tangle had never seen her like this, no more than had Hunter. She gasped that they had been found, that her family was in danger from angry Clanners’ claws… Tangle, quite honestly, didn’t believe that they were in danger. Hunter had seen them kill each other before, though, in the beginning of his courtship of Irisflame – he knew what they were capable of.
When Hunter ushered Irisflame towards their gates and ordered Tangle to follow, the four-moon-old kit refused. He countered that all three of them knew how to fight if need be, and surely they’d be a match for whatever the Clan cats could throw at them. He underestimated his mother’s friends. He also underestimated the Twolegs.
The female Twoleg came outside to find a skinny, ragged-looking feral cat standing in her front yard. She screamed, and Irisflame spun with her claws unsheathed. She hissed like a mad thing, causing the Twoleg to stumble back fearfully and scream for her husband to bring a weapon.
The husband heard the request only as he was running through the door – he turned a few steps and grabbed an umbrella, weilding it like a demented sword of some kind. The male twoleg had roughly the same reaction as the female, though he didn’t scream: he was slightly more prepared. Instead, he jabbed at Irisflame with the umbrella.
She hissed again and clawed at it, ripping the thin cloth to little more than ragged shreds: it was meant to keep off the rain, not an angry and terrified cat. She also managed to bend one of the wires that held the umbrella in a circular ring when opened. While the ferocity of her attack would have scared a cat away, or at least caused them to have second thoughts, it only made the Twolegs more sure that she had to be disposed of.
The woman ran in and got an umbrella as well, and though Hunter joined the battle on his mate’s side, it was lost before it had begun. The Twolegs were just too strong, too big. Both cats tried to fight back, hissing, clawing, and yowling as much as they could, but it did no good against the onslaught of blows. The more each fought, the harder the blows came. Finally, Hunter gave one last twitch before lying still, and Irisflame whimpered, dragging herself over to her fallen mate. She then let out an ear-shattering howl, which made the Twolegs startle and turn back. They moved as if nothing had happened as they walked inside.
Hunter was clearly dead, tears streaming down Irisflame’s cheeks from the mingled pain of his wounds and loss of his mate. Tangle had been frozen with terror during much of the battle, but now he approached his mother, whimpering. It was all his fault, he thought; if they had fled, if he had fought back as well…
Shuddering and sobbing, he begged his mother to come with him to the forest and the Clans, come away from the awful place he had mistakenly called his home. Irisflame shook her head, though, saying that her time was past. She had died with her mate, and with the injuries she had sustained here, she would never be able to really live again – never be able to hunt, fight, run, climb, swim; anything. Besides, her Clan would never again accept her as one of them. No, it was best he be left to die here.
No matter how much Tangle argued, and pleaded, and cried, Irisflame stood firm, though it hurt her to see her son so pained. Tangle stood beside his mother to the she-cat’s last breath. It was about this time that a patrol of RiverClan cats finally found their way to the Twoleg home; they had lost Irisflame’s trail in the streets and had taken quite a while to find it again.
Tangle didn’t bother with pleasantries. He told the RiverClan cats bluntly that both of his parents were dead thanks to them – their medicine cat and her mate, who defended her to his last breath. Was this what they’d wanted? he asked cruelly. Did they hate her so badly, was StarClan so cruel as to condemn a cat for following their heart? In life, he had had his disputes with his parents. But right here, right now, he would defend them forever if he had to.
Somehow, the patrol convinced the distraught, angry, and half-crazed tom to come with them back to camp, where they could sort everything out. The leader let Tangle stay, largely thanks to the fact that his mother had been a member of the Clan, they were at least partially responsible for her death, and Edgebrook’s lobbying for him to stay.
He was then re-named Tanglekit and given to Edgebrook to mother, though she had no kits of her own. A moon ago, he received the name Tanglepaw, with Edgebrook as his mentor. The two had grown close, and the newly-named Tanglepaw was happy – he was even beginning to be considered as less of an outcast among his fellow apprentices.
Then the hawk struck. The bird attacked Tanglepaw when he and Edgebrook were out training. He fought back – he was more advanced than the usual run of apprentice, due to his parents’ teachings – as did Edgebrook. But though they drove the thing away, it caught Edgebrook with a killing blow as it flew away: little more than an hour later, the medicine cat pronounced her dead.
Tanglepaw’s next mentor was, in the eyes of the Clan, a raving lunatic. No one was entirely sure why Oceanstar paired the two of them together, and she was given quite a bit of criticism for giving an “innocent, impressionable apprentice” a mentor such as Onestep.
Unlikely as it may have seemed, Tanglepaw and Onestep grew to be relatively good friends: on his part, Tanglepaw began to feel as if Onestep was basically the only one in his Clan that he could actually confide in. But then, of course, things started going horribly wrong.
Onestep had a love interest of his own: Shadepaw. Unfortunately, she and anotherRiverClan warrior – Jayfeather – were already mates, and he figured he had no hope to get her. At the same time, he and Jayfeather were rather bitter rivals. Onestep was a schizophrenic, and the voice ever residing inside his head was forever trying to get him to kill the other tom. Jayfeather, for his part, was too noble a warrior to even consider killing a Clanmate. But harming him a bit, to teach him a lesson? Well, he was willing to do that.
Onestep stared at his soon-to-be-mate with such a need, such a longing, that it made Jayfeather intensely nervous and, yes, jealous. Shadepaw’s heart was his, but he could not help feeling that something could be drawing her nearer to Onestep. So he suggested a hunting patrol, just him and the rival tom.
To go or not to go? The question had been popping in and out of Onestep’s mind all day. The voice in his head demanded he stay behind, knew nothing good would come of it, but he – for whatever reason – went. That was to be what ended everything.
To say the least, Onestep (paranoid to the extreme) was not an exemplary hunter. To add onto that, today was not one of his better days. Many prey-beasts escaped him, for he kept making wrong step after wrong step. But there was a look in Jayfeather’s eyes he did not like. And after being taunted by his mind-voice for missing the catches, being warned constantly about something Jayfeather might be plotting, Onestep was about to break.
Apparently, he wouldn’t have to do it himself.
It happened when he was stalking a vole. It seemed the perfect catch, the golden moment of an otherwise-terrible day. Onestep was precisely downwind, he was treading more carefully and feeling more focused than he had all day, ignoring the snapping twigs coming from behind him. It would have been better if he hadn’t.
The next thing Onestep knew, claws sharp as thorns were tearing along his pelt, teeth finding refuge in any space they could find. Onestep screeched in shocked terror and tried to fight back, but the black cat was too strong and kept him pinned beneath him as he inflicted his torture.
Long moments later, Onestep had managed to squirm out from under Jayfeather’s and flee. Bleeding, wounded, scratches and bites throbbing with searing pain, bloody, and broken, Onestep ran as best he could, though he knew he could not escape the stronger warrior for long.
To try to stay away from getting shredded even more for just a moment longer, Onestep hid in some reeds by a small stream, the clear water turning red. Terror gripped his body; Jayfeather could be standing just beside the bush, waiting for the slightest glimmer of a white pelt to seek his chance. Onestep stood, trembling, waiting.
Tanglepaw had followed his mentor. Jayfeather and Onestep alone? It did not give him a good feeling in the least. He came to a spot on the ground drenched in blood. One sniff told him it was his mentor’s. He feared for the tom, especially considering the large amount of blood that created a trail in front of him – and the scent of Jayfeather that followed this trail.
Something black flashed by. Jayfeather, the one that had committed this crime. It was time to right this wrong, in the only way Tanglepaw could think of at the time. In a panic and not really thinking straight, he followed the two warriors.
The apprenticed, running mostly on adrenaline, managed to overtake Jayfeather. There was a stream ahead, literally running read with blood. Onestep’s blood. There was a gorge, too, relatively nearby. Tanglepaw could never stand up to a cat like Jayfeather in a fight; just look at what he did to poor Onestep. But not even the strong, ‘noble’ Jayfeather could survive a fall like that. It was perfect.
He timed it just right. No second thoughts now, no turning back. Tanglepaw leaped from his cover and rammed into Jayfeather. In his rage and battle fury Jayfeather didn’t even realize that this cat was dark and marbled, not white and black. He changed his course to follow Tanglepaw.
He nearly fell over the gorge on his own. He had just lost sight of Tanglepaw and had skidded to a halt inches away from the edge. Then a dark shape appeared behind him. Jayfeather turned around, surprised to see who it was he saw. “Tanglepaw? What are you doing here?” His question was an honest one, though tinged with fear: though he had not killed Onestep, if Tanglepaw had seen what had happened, he could get in a lot of trouble nevertheless…
“Onestep will not be lost,” was Tanglepaw’s furious response, a hint of what could happen in the future. “You have no right.” It made little sense to Jayfeather. How could any cat stand up for Onestep, of all creatures? The bi-colored cat was like a fox: borderline stupid and ready to turn on you at any moment.
He was about to snarl something nasty about the aforementioned cat for just that reason, but he suddenly found that there was no more solid ground beneath his feet. And then he was falling. His bright blue eyes mirrored the expression on Tanglepaw’s face (now peering over the edge of the gorge), full of terror and shock. Then…it was gone. All gone. A blue jay sang from a tree, its plume once matching Jayfeather’s eyes. But now those eyes were the pale color of death, their spirit taken by StarClan.
Astonished by what he’d done – having been planning to kill Jayfeather without really thinking of the actual event of death, just how to accomplish it. Tanglepaw went into a full-blown panic for a couple minutes, until an inner voice he hadn’t known he had appeared, somehow convincing him that it was all Onestep’s fault. Onestep had done it, not him: he was merely an innocent bystander. Really.
Tanglepaw returned to camp, bedraggled and confused. He was asked where he’d been; he mumbled something about a cliff and a fight and broken and confused and Jayfeather and Onestep. And fur between the claws. There was a wild look in the apprentice’s eyes, though his Clanmates finally got him calmed down and into the medicine cat’s den.
As he was administered to, Oceanstar called out a patrol of cats, knowing that Tanglepaw was obviously quite shaken up (though it was for a different reason than the leader ever imagined) and probably not in a state to tell them much of anything at the moment. After combing the territory, they found a freaking out Onestep…and a dead Jayfeather.
A dead Jayfeather with Onestep’s fur between his claws. It all fit. Assumptions were made conclusions reached; Tanglepaw didn’t even need to say anything. It didn’t help that Onestep refused to stick up for himself, either. Despite her feelings for the warrior, Shadepaw – Jayfeather’s old mate – was calling for blood.
Nearly killed, it was finally decided that Onestep would merely be exiled, killed if he ever set foot on StormClan territory again. Part-gratefully (and partially wishing he had been killed, for he hated what he was now convinced he’d done), Onestep fled.
For moons, Tanglepaw lived with what he’d done, somehow erasing it from his mind and coming to believe that what had happened wasn’t actually true. That, in fact, it was Onestep’s fault. In the time that passed, he became Tangledream, a warrior of StormClan, and even began to feel a bit accepted.
When walking along the fateful gorge with another cat one night, his companion is – for a split second – in a position almost identical to Jayfeather’s, all those moons ago. Struck with complete déjà vu, everything comes flooding back in an almost movie-like fashion. Basically, the warrior gets a bit hysterical, starts screaming that he’s a murderer, and before his Clanmate can completely register the change or try and help him, he runs away.
Searching for days to find Onestep, somehow the warrior finally runs into his old mentor. It’s a weird conversation the two have, a little bit wariness, a lot of apologies, and a lot of convincing Onestep that Tangledream was the one in the wrong even though that wasn’t entirely what either of them remembered.
The two returned to StormClan, somehow the story came out without anybody killing Onestep, and Tangledream came very close to being mobbed, and equally close to being killed. Luckily for him, he was a fast runner.
For those first few moons, Tangledream wandered around in a bit of a shock. He couldn’t quite believe what he had done, and wasn’t sure how to come to terms with it. Betraying the only friend he had had; killing a cat for no real reason; then lying about all of it. At least up until a short while ago.
During that time, his name somehow morphed from its original warrior status to merely ‘Tangle.’ Unlike Tangledream, Tangle became a hard-hearted creature that cared only for himself, and even the latter was debatable.
By the time he had (mostly) recovered himself and what he called his sanity, the Clans had gone to war against one another for a reason that he found utterly stupid. On the other hand, as he had managed to overcome his hatred of killing (now having killed more cats than merely Onestep…), he found it almost amusing watching them try to rip themselves to shreds over whether or not StarClan was real.
-cont. in next post-
You guys are both amazing... I can RP in long posts, but not make such beautiful biographies.