Open Camp get to know me — storytime

This thread takes place inside the clan's camp.

BENGT

WIPE THE SYSTEM
Loner/Rogue
18
4
Freshkill
85
Pronouns
HE/HIM
Profile
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Played by
KARMEN
"And so, there I was... cornered by three brutes. I was backed into a corner."


Bengt loafs, ever-comfortable in the middle of a ragged circle that had appeared the longer he told his story. A few of them, actually; turns out, WindClan is rather curious about the dubious past of the stray that they had decided to feed and heal. He supposes he can get behind that. He, too, is a sponge when it comes to some good gossip. This is far from it however—while he's not above the mending of the truth, this specific remnant of the past is genuine, whether some of the more senior warriors believe it or not. Loners and rogues like to stick together in an attempt to look more intimidating and bully the single cats out of their hard-earned food.

He regards each cat sitting around him with a look. Bengt is not the greatest storyteller, but his voice can certainly make even the simplest sentences entertaining. He loves theatrics.
"They expected me to try and run away, or to give in... but they didn't expect me to attack back."
Bengt assumes he ought to spare the gory details, lest the younger kits and apprentices get too scared and run to their mothers, earning him a scolding.
"I gave them what they deserved. And guess what? They never bothered me again. If they saw me coming, they either turned tail or picked a different lane to pad on."


 
————————————————————— Here comes the sun ☀︎


Chickpaw wasn't expecting a story. As with most things, he had simply been drawn in by the growing crowd around the immense newcomer. At least, he thought this cat must've been a newcomer. If he had seen him before, he sure as shine forgot about it … but to be fair, he forgot most things.

This fellow—Benny or something or another—had a fantastic way of rambling on, gesturing with a wild paw when the apprentice's attention would slip. Of course, he had no idea what had come before in the story, but he still Ooh'd and Aah'd like he had some idea. By all means, he was a perfect—albeit a bit lost—audience.

The patchwork looking tom gasped in surprise at Benny claiming he had attacked… whoever it was that he had attacked. A look of confusion dawned on his face at his next words though, and he tilted his head to the side, great big ears flopping along with him.

"What did they deserve?" The tom asked innocently. "I wouldn't have given them anything. They're the bad guys, right? They don't deserve nothin'." He thought for a moment, eyes falling to his cinnamon-colored paws. "Actually. Maybe I would give them something. A flower or something, maybe they're allergic." Chick shrugged, though he didn't look certain on his choice. In actuality, he probably would've been beaten to a pulp long before he could even offer anything, but the tom didn't think too hard about that possibility.

  • Chick
    ☀︎—Windclan Apprentice
    ☀︎—He/Him
    ☀︎—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
    ☀︎—A small cinnamon shorthair with patches of long golden fur.
    #FBCC86 #847635
 
  • Love
Reactions: Torrentpaw
————————— There might be something outside your window. ✦


The kitten overheard the big stranger talking about something or other, and of course she couldn't stay away! Curiosity was a strong thing, and seeing familiar cats nearby made her more than comfortable to toddle over and listen intently.

With little to no sense of personal space, not wanting to crane her head all the way up, especially with the growing crowd, Finchy b-lined towards Chickpaw and clambered up his side and settled two tiny paws upon his head as she stared up at the stranger, Bengt, and his story.

Her eyes glittered, hearing the tale of a cat from outside the clan, she'd never met anyone outside of Windclan until recently, with aaaaall these strangers showing up! But she didn't mind this one; he was really good at telling stories after all.

"That's so cool!" She squeaked, standing up from her rather comfortable seat perched atop the apprentice. Though she had to giggle at the seemingly clueless addition of Chickpaw. "No silly, he beat them up!!" Finchkit fell ceremoniously off of the back of Chickpaw as he tilted his head, falling with a light thump that made her giggle more.

She pushed herself to her paws and bounded closer to the tom with glittering eyes. "I bet no one ever tried to fight you again, ya' woulda given 'em their tails!!" The kitten giggled, a spark of an idea alight in her mind. With a cheeky grin evident on her face, she turned with narrowed eyes and pounced on Chickpaw (or attempted to), giggling as she flopped to the floor. Much too small and inexperienced in fighting, but by the stars, gearing up to become a menace with each passing moon.

Though a thought crossed her mind, she stared inquisitively at Bengt for a moment. "If they didn't wanna fight you again, how'd'ya get hurt?" A tilt of her head, copying Chickpaw, not really knowing it wasn't exactly appropriate to try and pry into the past of the tom. But, then again, he was the one telling the stories!

  • Finchkit
    ✦—Windclan kit | 2 moons
    ✦—She/Her
    ✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
    ✦—A small creme tabby with a long bushy tail and wide owly eyes.
    #F5A837
    ⤷ Written by Phoenix ☀️
 
I'm a young soul in this very strange world
Hoping I could learn a bit 'bout what is true and fake
But why all this hate? Try to communicate
Finding trust and love is not always easy to make

.


Weaselchirp plopped herself down without ceremony among the cluster of cats gathered around the massive loner, a faint trail of dirt still trickling from her pelt. Her wide orange eyes fixed on Bengt with an intensity that bordered on unnerving as he reached the end of his tale. They never bothered him again, he had said. What a lonely life that must eventually be... To be by yourself. All alone. Nobody to grace your presence, nobody to curl up against during the long, cold nights. No, that was not a life she would wish.

Finchkit, ever sharp, asked the right questions. And dear Chickpaw, such a sweet soul, gave answers she assumed never would have happened. No flowers for those who sharpened their claws on others. But Weaselchirp...? She only stared. And stared. A very long, very quiet, very pointed stare, the kind that made fur prickle. Then out of no where, her head turned sharply, orange gaze now pinned on Finchkit.

" I suspect. " she began, her tone almost sing-song in contrast to her solemn words. " That even if the weaker cats knew to stay away, stronger ones would come along eventually. And while Bengt certainly has size, well... size matters little when it's a whole group showing strength. " Her head swiveled again, back to Bengt, eyes narrowing just a touch. " Or perhaps... our new friend simply underestimated his opponent? " All was said with no malice, no ill intent, merely curiousity. The kind of curiousity Weaselchirp always had carried with her.

Speech, thoughts/emphasis


66 MOONS
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