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Post by Miss Midnight|| on Dec 9, 2008 18:30:07 GMT -5
Phobia The tom stared at the other in some sort of disgusted confusion, who did this cat think he was talking to him like this and what did he mean by ‘what were they calling you nowadays’? Phobia blinked his ocher eyes and fastened his molars together, grinding them against each other. The Clanner must’ve been talking about his name. Phobia. He growled in-between his teeth, his claws sinking into the leaf-littered ground. This kitty wasn’t exactly smart to tick him off like this. He looked the tall tomcat and wrinkled his nose; he was almost positive now he’d seen this cat somewhere, heard its voice and smelled its scent.
Blood pooled at his feet, staining the bottoms of his forepaws with the thick red liquid. The small kit looked up in horror, staring through disbelieving amber eyes, mouthing the words he could not say aloud. Standing over the limp body of a once pretty fawn-furred she-cat was a muscular gray tom with menacing pools of pale glittering yellow. “If you tell the others about this, you brat, I’ll rip out your heart and show it to you!” The larger tomcat snarled at him, stepping off the dead she-cat and over to the small tortoiseshell. “B-but you killed her, you killed mama,” the little one whimpered feebly, backing against the cool wall of a two-leg structure, his fearful eyes flashing to the body of his mother. “That’s right, and if you keep your little mouth shut maybe you’ll live to see her buried! Understood?!” He growled, snapping his large fangs at the kit. The tortoiseshell tom-kit squealed and managed to nod in-between the terrified quakes of his body.
The memory caught Phobia off-guard and he stared blankly ahead, finding himself stepping backwards from the Clanner in front of him, the action so fresh in his mind from the flashback that he felt like the terrified kit backing away from the murderer of its mother. Understanding smacked him across the face like claws; he was the kit in that damned memory! This Clan cat, whatever his name was, was his father, the very cat who killed his mother so long ago. This cat had slaughtered the rest of his family too, his sisters, his friends, everyone and he’d been the apprentice of this murderer. All the wails and blood-curdling cries of dying cats from his past he’d blocked out when he’d run away from his father and his murderous ways. Then after a while he’d pushed the memories so far back in his head that he’d forgotten them. And in the end he’d become exactly what he despised all along. Phobia’s fur bristled out on all ends, a loud raucous snarl erupting from his chest. You maggot! All those moons ago, when you killed her, killed everyone, it’s really you?! The massive tortoiseshell’s claws tore into the ground viciously, making the dirt pool around his paws. I’m going to kill you, rip out your heart and show it to you! He yowled, the dark tom’s words slipping from his maw easily and the sides of his lips turned up to show his discolored weapons.
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Post by //Cindy// l u n a on Dec 9, 2008 19:03:24 GMT -5
Shadow watched the play of emotions on Phobia's face. The black loner had taught himself never to be caught off-guard, but otherwise he might just have jumped in shock at the sudden harsh fury on Phobia's features. The yowl of long-suppressed hatred. It was intense and Shadow could feel the world he knew rocking on its foundation, just a little bit. But then, suddenly, he remembered. He remembered the hate. He remembered the lust for revenge that had plagued him for so long. It all rushed back. It hit him hard in the head - no, in the heart. No, not even... it hit him so hard that he couldn't tell what bit of him was most in shock.
He couldn't help the snarl that ripped from him, directly from his chest. The black rage, consumed him and swallowed him up. It took all he had not to let it overpower him and change him into an entirely different cat. His claws dug into the dirt and the sharp pain of a little rock lodging into his paw pad pulled him out of the overwhelming emotion. He listened to Phobia's words, and every one of them reminded him of his experience with revenge. That... that... WindClan kitten, he spat in his mind. But she was dead now. Long, long, dead. She would never live again. He pulled himself back to the present, letting the past press in on his memory but not enter. He didn't believe in dwelling.
"And I'll help hold you down while he does," the black-hearted tom snarled. He knew that Phobia would want to kill the Clanner himself, but it was the least Shadow could do to offer some friendly help.
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Post by //Cindy// l u n a on Dec 20, 2008 19:23:02 GMT -5
ooc: middy?
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Post by Miss Midnight|| on Dec 30, 2008 3:39:02 GMT -5
OOC: I’m so sorry Cindy, the holidays have been busybusy!!!
Phobia Blind rage surged through every vein in his body, fueling his newly awakened vengeance with a passionate flame. His eyes smoldered like embers, sneering in disgust at the monster that stood before him, his father. A fit of hissing and growls rippled through in waves, the pent anger needing to be vented. All he had to do was kill the damned creature and be over with it. No, it was more than that; he wanted this cat to suffer. To be killed in the most torturous way possible and he was going to be the one responsible. Phobia took a rigid step forward, his torn ears pulled flat against his skull and his fangs bared. The smug look on his father’s face did not suit a dead corpse, it would not stay that way till death. His foreleg lashed out suddenly, long black claws hooking into the dark gray cat’s muzzle. The Clanner let out a startled shriek, trying to buck away, but the loner’s overgrown weapons were drove deep into the thin skin around his maw. Phobia growled, tugging his paw back harshly, ripping through the other’s flesh and pulling a whisker or two clean off. He watched through his glaring orbs as the cat stumbled backward, hissing in pain. Don’t screw with my head, you piece of foxdung. He snarled gutturally, voice crackling like a burning leaf.
Ghostshoulder Ghostshoulder smiled lazily, the sharp throbbing pain in his muzzle making it hard to keep his face straight. He didn’t want to fight this abomination, or rather, a ‘freak of nature’. Incredibly strong and easily provoked if you hit the right nerve, there was no way he could win against that. He made a sideways glance at the darker tomcat standing in the shadows. There was also no way he was going to defend himself against two loners. He chuckled in his mind; both of these cats were mentally unstable. The cat with coal-black eyes he could easily tell was masking the past very quickly, burying any event of significance in the dirt. Phobia, on the other hand, was a piece of work. Insane, unstable, bloodthirsty, but perfectly capable of controlling himself. The ideal killing machine, one could say. Ghostshoulder slowly eased his back paws backward, if he needed to run he would. He wasn’t stupid. He looked straight at the raven-furred loner with his pale yellow eyes and grinned again. You slipped up a bit there; surely these events have nothing to do with you… What would possess you to shatter that calm of yours for just a split second? You’re not one of those cats who gets angry just because he sees another cat suffering. That would be awfully pitiful if it were true. He meowed, his mocking tone disguised with innocent curiosity.
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Post by //Cindy// l u n a on Dec 30, 2008 21:37:51 GMT -5
Shadow laughed with dark humor. Pitiful? The word more aptly described the Clanner's tom's attempt to provoke Shadow. Normally, the ebony tom wouldn't even have laughed. But in this special case, his emotions were amplified by the tone of revenge the scene had. Shadow, of course, made no effort to hold his emotions in. He never did. Not over-thinking his words, the midnight feline drawled slowly, "I can taste revenge in the air. Watch out Clanner, here comes your past."
But Shadow didn't so much as step forward. He was content to be Phobia's backup fighter - happy to stand by a satisfying battle. Phobia probably wanted to drag out the murder, do the dirty work himself. Whatever. Shadow's black eyes were emotionless, as always, but a slow smile of content drew a line across his muzzle. Revenge was the only fire that ever burned in Shadow's mostly flame-proof mind, but its flames raged mountains high when just a spark was lit.
ooc; sorry for my terrible writing. ughh. not a good post.
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Post by Miss Midnight|| on Dec 31, 2008 22:08:58 GMT -5
Phobia Shut up, you worm! Phobia roared, his hindquarters dipping backwards and his back legs coiling like springs, His eyes blazed like an inferno and his nostrils flared dangerously, inhaling the trickling red life water seeping from the shallow wound his father bore. The tortoiseshell felt the usual burning desire seize his senses and he let himself go. There was no reason to hold back. No reason to be concerned whose flesh his fangs sank into, or whose fur he was ripping out. All thoughts halted and his heartbeat increased, allowing all his spare adrenaline to pump into his veins. Then, from that point on, everything was a blur. The muscles in his legs set him off like a mousetrap and sent him lunging forward.
Ghostshoulder Ghostshoulder mentally cursed his luck, and, ignoring the dull throb that was presenting itself on his muzzle, he dodged nimbly out of the way. He watched with diluted yellow eyes as Phobia hit the ground with a particularly loud thump and stumbled to the side as he rounded around for a second attack. The Clanner narrowed his eyes and leaped out of the way of the larger built tom, but not without the multi-colored loner seizing his tail with sharp canines. Ghostshoulder hissed and attempted to yank away from the other’s grasp, but his kin was making it hard because of the strength behind his bite. Phobia was tugging harshly on his tail now and he growled, whipping himself in a semi-circle to rip himself free, sacrificing a patch of his tail fur. He watched his son spit out his dark gray fur, before locking his amber eyes to his own and giving him a vengeful snarl. The long-limbed warrior sighed, there was no way he was going to get out of this one, he would have to put a pretty disabling wound on the other to even have a chance of escape. Phobia launched forward again, discolored fangs bared, but Ghostshoulder was more than ready. He skidded out of the way at the last moment, panting, Phobia was fast despite his size. Hey, Blackie, what’s up with the cryptic speech? It’s irritating, but furthermore, I can tell you’re hiding more than you’re letting off. Plus, I asked you a question, right? You should be polite and answer me. We’re all having a bit of a flashback episode here. Why don’t you share your own story? Ghostshoulder spoke, surprisingly able to get all of his words out with one breath. He had a talent for talking excessively.
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Post by //Cindy// l u n a on Jan 1, 2009 16:10:40 GMT -5
"How... rude of me." Shadow smiled. He wasn't one for answering questions directly, or really at all. Most questions dealt with the past, which Shadow didn't care much about. But perhaps it would be a good idea to share his little tale of revenge - it could be a neat little distraction, and Phobia would probably take that chance to do some real damage to the ThunderClanner. But Shadow just wasn't good at talking about the past. So he said, "Some WindClan queen killed my parents. So I killed her, but figured she took two lives from me. So I hunted down her itty bitty delicate daughter, made her fear every shadow she saw, then killed her. Nice and slow." Uncharacteristically, the black tom showed a bit of emotion - dark, cruel, satisfaction. He didn't have any strong morals except for one. Just one.
The curious display of a soul that Shadow's eyes held drained away as quickly and disconcertingly as it had come. He watched the murderous fight with a careless half-smile, not thinking anymore at all. Back to the normal Shadow - only concerned about the present. But there was still a hint of that strange, vengeful creature that lived inside the midnight coat. And that was in the way Shadow's ebony orbs followed every detail of the battle - waiting for a chance to attack.
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Post by Miss Midnight|| on Jan 1, 2009 18:22:37 GMT -5
Ghostshoulder What a monster. The dark gray tom drawled, an amused glint reflected in his yellow pools. There was a hoarse caterwaul and suddenly the air from his lungs was forced out as his kin slammed into his flank. He tumbled a few times before coming to stop about a fox-length away on the leaf-littered earth. Ghostshoulder gasped, sucking in the chilling night air greedily. He could feel Phobia’s eyes burning into his pelt and he lifted his head, a little dazed from the collision to his side. The large tortoiseshell was charging at him from a fair distance, the force must have sent him backwards. The warrior heaved himself up and half-limped out of his son’s way, watching the tom skid on the upturned dirt that was left behind by previous assaults. Ghostshoulder was not a monster, he had killed all those dear to Phobia to make his kin strong, to make him hate everything, to make him a monster. Killing out of pure revenge, that was a monster’s doing. He was simply setting the foundation to screw up his kid. Ghostshoulder was a sadistic creature, and he liked messing with others. It was a hobby. Just your parents? That’s all? I’d say that’s a pretty dumb reason, Blackie. More to the point, what’d you do to her to make her want to kill your parents? His eyes never left Phobia as he spoke, the tortoiseshell was still on his adrenaline high, or whatever it was. Ghostshoulder cursed under his breath in frustration; in the state the loner was in he was near invincible. The Clanner figured he needed to get some serious injuries on him fast, or this taking turn thing of him dodging and Phobia attacking was going to last forever.
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Post by //Cindy// l u n a on Jan 2, 2009 12:22:16 GMT -5
Shadow's eyes continued to trail the scene. Although his muscles were relaxed and his breathing was steady, there was something in his orbs that showed his intent - he was going to hurt that Clanner. What had Shadow done? He'd never thought of it that way, and didn't now. The past was again in its rightful place in the midnight tom's mind - way in back. The present ruled his attention, and he discarded the accusation and question almost as soon as they were asked.
Rolling his shoulders, Shadow smiled almost lazily. He didn't take the blind-charge strategy that Phobia seemed to be favoring. Instead, he slowly paced towards Ghostshoulder, a snarl building up in his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Phobia, but didn't try to guess what the tortoiseshell would do next. His main focus was the ThunderClanner.
ooc; before shadow attacks or anything, what do you have in mind for the end of this thread? is phobia going to kill ghostshoulder?
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Post by Miss Midnight|| on Jan 2, 2009 17:30:37 GMT -5
OOC: Nah, I like Ghostshoulder too much. He’ll probably make a mad dash back to camp in the next post, yowling to save his sorry behind. Phobia will give chase, and Shadow should like stop him, or they’ll both be caught by ThunderClanners. Then after Phobia regains some sanity not to attack Shadow they can chat for a little bit, if you’d like.
Ghostshoulder Out of the corner of his vision he could see the raven-furred tom crouch down and slowly take a few pawsteps forward, a deep rumbling sound emitting from his chest that Ghostshoulder identified as a snarl. Great, now the silent but deadly loner wanted to inflict damage on him as well. Phobia was, well, doing something very interesting. He was also making some angry noise, which sounded like some wild ancestor more than a regular cat of the current age. But what piqued his initial interest was that he had stopped and his face was a little scrunched, making it look like he was having some come kind of inner turmoil? Ghostshoulder wasn’t completely sure. He advanced cautiously towards the tortoiseshell, who seemed thoroughly distracted enough, and then leaped, claws aimed to land directly on Phobia’s back. Then his plan backfired. Phobia’s head snapped up, and if Ghostshoulder wasn’t a slightly crazed feline he would’ve thought those glowing amber depths were positively terrifying. The broad-shouldered loner met him in mid-flight, taking him down easily. The two crashed down to the ground, with the enraged loner pinning him down. Ghostshoulder grunted in pain as he felt the overgrown black talons stab in the area between his shoulder blades, and he wriggled to free himself but without success. He glared angrily at his kin, whose stare was glazed over with rage, anger, bloodlust, and any other StarClan forsaken emotion monsters reflected in their eyes. The tortoiseshell reeled his head back like an adder and then struck, his large fangs meeting the tender flesh of the Clanner’s neck. Ghostshoulder yowled in pain and fury, thrashing his paws in a feeble attempt to get the other off him but this only succeeded in Phobia impaling his canines impossibly deeper. Ghostshoulder screeched lifting his head and biting down onto the tom’s cheekbone, pinching what little flesh he could between his teeth. Phobia only shifted his jowls wider, breaking the soft skin and then sinking his fangs down again. The darker-furred warrior held back the caterwaul of agony and was now biting down as hard as he could. Tug, tug, tug and the weight was lifted off him, his vice grip on the other ripped off fairly easily. He made a choked gasping noise, a gargling noise cutting it off as blood bubbled and then trickled out the corner of his maw. Ghostshoulder was stubborn; he wasn’t going to die just yet. Weak limbs lifted him from the red-stained dirt and leaf litter and he faced forward and there was Phobia. In-between the massive tomcat’s jaws was a chunk of his skin and a tuft of his fur attached, and to the long-limbed warriors disgust, Phobia then chewed and swallowed his own flesh. Ghostshoulder felt sick, bile rising up his throat. He sputtered and blood fell out of his mouth, teeth stained red, his own and his kin’s blood present on his taste buds. He felt a little dizzy from the loss of blood, a wave of pain washing over him as he noticed the reasonably large wound on his neck that was staining his short fur a dark muddled crimson. The gash on Phobia’s face didn’t seem to be taken into notice at all, the tortoiseshell looked as though he had all the stamina in the world to spare, that malicious, insane glint in his ocher orbs. It was hopeless, impossible. He needed to flee, and he needed to flee now. Monster. He murmured languidly, a smile curling over his lips.
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Post by //Cindy// l u n a on Jan 2, 2009 18:28:53 GMT -5
Shadow stopped his dark advance to laugh. How easily his loner friend outwitted the ThunderClanner - it just showed what dependent idiots Clanner cats were. Loners knew how to fight alone, and it would probably be better for everyone if Phobia did just that. Shadow was at severe risk of being gnawed on if he got too close to either of the furious cats. Not wanting to endanger his own life, he simply watched with a curved smile. "Swallow your pride and run, Clanner," the dark cat suggested, his monotone full of ironic humor. This was a perfect example of the past, which mattered so little, coming back to bite those who dwelt on it.
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Post by Miss Midnight|| on Jan 2, 2009 19:51:41 GMT -5
Ghostshoulder Ghostshoulder glared at the black loner. What pride? I was planning on it anyway, brat. He spat; smile deepening at the sarcasm poisoning his words. He limped backwards a little, his gaze shifting to Phobia who was licking his chops coyly. They weren’t that far from camp, and he wasn’t about to stay and wait for some patrol to come around just to give his crazed son another chance to eat him alive. He chuckled a little inwardly; becoming a part of Clan had been a pretty bad idea. He sort of wished he were back in the faraway two-leg place, sitting on his throne and commanding his gang of underlings to do his bidding. He’d become weaker since then, and he missed the feeling of others being terrified of him. He’d poked holes in his pride over and over again, and now he was here, at the mercy of an insane loner who he hardly liked to call kin. To hell with self-importance. He shifted his paws back more, and with all his last ounces of strength he turned tail and ran.
Phobia Phobia wasn’t having that, with a snarl of pure malice he thudded after his father, chasing that enticing smell of tangy crimson blood through the undergrowth. That worm was dead to him, but the actual killing had to be done, there was no way he was letting that murderer get away from him. The yowling that echoed out the trees was more of a wailing sound, a cry for help, and an alarm call with a hint of satisfaction of the success of his kin’s escape. But Phobia was deafened to the sound as he thundered on, breaking twigs and causing a racket that would’ve probably scared all the prey from there to Fourtrees.
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Post by //Cindy// l u n a on Jan 2, 2009 20:33:21 GMT -5
"What pride?" What a stupid question. All Clanners had some kind of idiotic pride - and Shadow didn't mind. He himself cared little about how others thought of him, so in that sense he had almost no pride to speak of. On the other hand, he did act superior to those around him quite constantly. So there was some kind of pride in him. But that never stopped him from running away when he needed to. Good for the Clanner - it didn't stop him, either.
But Phobia seemed more than a little reluctant to let the fight go. Although Shadow would have loved to watch his crazed friend slaughter this ThunderClan tom, he didn't want to get either of them killed. And although Clanners were weak, they were many. That counted for a lot, too. So Shadow called out in a deep monotone - "Don't chase him. He'll just lead you to the camp, and all the other Clanner lemmings will claw you into a bloody pulp." He made no other effort than that, and didn't actually expect his logic to win the tortoiseshell over. But why not try?
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Post by Miss Midnight|| on Jan 5, 2009 14:28:40 GMT -5
Phobia He heard a voice call out, the familiarity of it making him slow his steps as his mind worked to bring itself back from the bloodlust state. He blinked at least six times, watching his father’s tail disappear through the undergrowth. Phobia stood there, his muscles flexing occasionally, the voice that spoke to him had been right. It would be suicide to go to the camp, and Phobia wasn’t ready to die just yet. He turned and began to slowly trek back to the clearing, following the trail of blood left behind by the Clanner to make sure he didn’t get lost. The tortoiseshell quickly identified the dark, looming silhouette of Shadow who must’ve been the one who called out to him. The clearing was rather messy, the fallen leaves cleared from the dirt from the earlier turmoil, and the ground was churned up and scattered blood splotches muddied it. Damned coward. He rasped. There was a sting forming on the section of skin just below his eye, that must have been where his father had latched onto him while he was trying to rip a hole through his neck so he could reach down in there and pull his heart out. The very thought excited Phobia beyond normal comprehension and he smiled, rough pink tongue slipping out to clean the remnants of the Clanner’s blood. This is a shame. He said, near wistfully, but coming from Phobia everything sounded a bit more twisted than that. He felt his belly rumble with hunger, the hollow feeling gnawing at him from the inside out. The meat he tore from his father’s neck had nowhere near satisfied him.
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Post by //Cindy// l u n a on Jan 6, 2009 17:18:11 GMT -5
Shadow's eyes trailed Phobia with a kind of emotionless intensity until the tortoiseshell was out of sight. Shadow didn't leave the clearing however. He had nowhere to be, and if he heard Phobia's yowl he had no reason not to try to assist. He didn't think about the fact that battling ThunderClanners in their own camp would mean hopeless outnumbering and a pitiful chance at running. He wasn't one to think about what might or might not happen.
For that reason, and that reason only, he was not surprised when Phobia reappeared only moments after he had vanished into the underbrush. Excellent - the tom seemed to be showing some uncharacteristic good sense. But Shadow imagined that the rogue had to be hungry; nothing like a fight and a appetizer to work up a starved frenzy. And although he could see some kind of insanity and emotion from Phobia's eyes, Shadow didn't see the point in trying to figure is friend out. If there was something the ebony tom had to know, it would become apparent quickly.
"Yes. But don't let the past stalk you - it is stuck behind unless you give it a key to the present and bring it forward once again. It will weaken you and keep you from the vastly more important now." It was one of the longest phrases ever spoken in the dark muzzle's odd monotone, excluding more complicated insults. Shadow believed exactly what he'd said - that didn't mean that Phobia shouldn't kill Ghostshoulder, or even hunt him down for that purpose. No, it meant that the blood-crusted loner should keep the past and the real as separate realms and only use the first when necessary.
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