Closed Territory ShadowClan god its brutal out here 𓍊𓋼𓆏𓋼𓍊 — herb search

[F l e a p a w]

{$title} Flea digging through the dirt trying to get enough herbs to buy her soul back from Cicadabuzz.

-

Feel free to join her, but anything your OC finds won't contribute toward her debt. Otherwise this thread will just be filled with Flea talking to herself and pricking her pads on thorns.

Fleapaw kicked through a puddle, filthy water staining her pelt. Her life had reached peak levels of shittery. She didn't want to be out there digging through the dirt, looking for something she didn't even know the name of—not like she was given a choice. Flea didn't trust the prey from the fresh kill pile anymore. She fully expected to take a bite and fall over dead. So, she caught her own prey from now on and kept her nose down while she worked in Cicada's den. The less she had to talk to that weirdo, the better.

The pocosin was empty aside from the occasional drop of water falling from overhanging branches, rippling across the murky puddles that littered the ground. No frogs. No bugs. No company to keep Flea from losing her mind. Nope, just her and the swamp.

Where her paws carried her was different from the rest of the pocosin. Immediately, she felt the difference in how the ground felt—dry—withered. A stretch of dying land, littered with tree corpses. Fleapaw kicked at the dirt and wrinkled her nose. The roots looked like bones poking up through tattered skin.

Hopefully, there were more than twigs to take back to Cicada today. The medicine cat gave no directions—no descriptions of what she should look for. She grumbled to herself as she stomped forward, shoving through shrubs and prickly bushes, half-assedly pawing at the first for anything remotely useful.

"Alright… If I were a herb, where the hell would I be hiding?" She crouched down, eyes narrowing at a patch of scraggly green tangled in the roots of a stump. It looked herb-y?

Maybe? … Probably.

Well, too bad if it wasn't. She was taking it anyway.

OOC -
Rolled for location: 3 → The Barrens
Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 3 → Failure

All I did was try my best

FLEAPAW

6 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

This the kinda thanks I get?

 

[F l e a p a w]

-

Fleapaw shuffled the green stuff aside, squinting at the pitiful pile she'd collected so far. It kinda just looked like grass. But what the hell did she know about herbs?

Cicada wanted plants, so plants they was gonna get. She huffed, plucking up the last of the scraggly greenery around the rotting stump before turning her attention to the stump. The middle was hollow, and pitch black.
Fleapaw got up on her tippy-toes and shoved her paw inside.

It felt… weird. Scrapey. Kind of damp? "Euwwww.." Her nose wrinkled, but before she could decide whether to be grossed out or intrigued, something jabbed into her paw.

She yanked her paw out and gave it a shake. What the fuck?! A bug? A sharp piece of wood? Some kind of pissed-off swamp creature? Fleapaw glared at the stump, half-expecting something to scuttle out and fight her, but nothing did.

"Owwah." She grumbled, sticking the injured paw into her mouth, tongue lapping up the small beads of blood pooling from the wound. When she pulled it out, it was slicked with spit.

"Fucking—dumb—plants—" Fleapaw muttered to herself as she swept her gaze through the scattering of stumps and bushes.

Her good paw absently prodded the ground, scraping away the thin layer of dirt covering something lumpy. A rock. Fleapaw stared at it. "I can think of a couple ways Cicada can use you." Maybe as a hat or a headache cure if she throws it hard enough.

OOC - Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 3 → Failure
Rolled a 1d3 for injury: 3 → Thorn Prick

All I did was try my best

FLEAPAW

6 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

This the kinda thanks I get?

 

[F l e a p a w]

-

Now her paw was sore, and her patience was thinner than a frog's last breath. So far, she had a pile of grass, a rock and a bleeding paw.

"Dumbass plants, dumbass swamp, dumbass~" She turned her whining in a song, but then she fell out of tune when something caught her eye. A patch of green. Fleapaw hobbled over to get a better look.

The leaves were wilted and yellowed, and from them sprouted a few shriveled-up stocks. What she assumes were once flowers are now small brown pockets. "Never seen you before." Then again, she never really looked at plants much. Flea leans down and grips the thin stock in her mouth and snaps it clean from its leafy base. Her ears perk at the rattling sound it makes when she picks it up. "Heyyy, that's kinda fun." It feels brittle in her mouth, but even as she rattles it, the stock stays intact.

It was light and smelled kind of floral—which was a small improvement over the other weird-smelling garbage Cicada kept around. If the medicine-cat didn't want it, she might keep the little rattly bits and give em to Stoat as a present. Stoat liked flowers right? She'd probably wanna hear the cool noise too.

𖧧 Fleapaw has acquired Foxglove Seeds.

OOC -
Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 2 → Success!
Rolled a 1d7 for Category: 5 → Poisons
Rolled a 1d2 for Injury: 2 → Safe

All I did was try my best

FLEAPAW

6 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

This the kinda thanks I get?

 

[F l e a p a w]

-

Fleapaw dropped the dried stalks into her growing pile of useless junk. She stared at the rock for a second before nudging it away. Didn't Cicada say that she would have to eat anything that wasn't a herb?

She shook out her fur, sending a few stray seeds scattering into the dirt. Where did those come from? Would they grow into anything? Ah whatever.

With that done, she kicked some dirt over them and turned back to scavenging—poking through a bunch of dry, sharp brambles. The pointy bits poked and pulled at her pelt. She winced as one jabbed into her side. "Ouch!" How the hell did that freak do this every day?

Although knowing Cicada, maybe they liked getting poked and stabbed all the time. If that was true, then she would be more than happy to help with the stabbing part.

Flea grabbed at something sticking up from the scraggly ground. It was thin and brittle. A little twig. A twig…

Her tail gave a sharp flick. Was the swamp itself fucking with her? Fleapaw snorted and then grabbed one—then another, and even more. She didn't know if Cicada could even use them but what the hell. That bug was gonna get some twigs. Maybe they were useful. Probably not, and she was gonna have to eat them.

…

Fleapaw leaned down and nibbled at one. The twig fell apart in her teeth—it was so dry—and earthy.

"Blehhh.. ick!" She spat the bits out, grabbed one and tossed the others. If she had to eat one, it was no big deal, but she was not munching on a whole mouthful.

OOC -
Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 3 → Failure
Rolled a 1d3 for Injury: 2 → Poke

All I did was try my best

FLEAPAW

6 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

This the kinda thanks I get?

 

[F l e a p a w]

-

Fleapaw moved between the stumps, eyes darting beneath roots and bramble bushes in search of anything remotely useful. Once again something green catches her eye—A cluster leaves, tucked against a rotted stump.

The leaves were long and spiky, stretching wide and full at the top. It looked like fresh growth, lusher than anything else she'd so far. Nestled between the greens was a little bud, barely peeking out.

Reminds me of someone.

Yellow petals curled tight, not yet ready to open to the world. Fleapaw crouched, paw gently brushing against the yellow fluff. "Sunshine..." How long had it been since she thought of him? That fuzzy yellow fluffball from the mill—her sunshine… or he was.

He was gone. Left her just like she left Tick and the others. Did he ever try to come back, too? Or wonder if she was still alive?

This flower had a name, she knew it. It was right there, dancing on the tip of her tongue. They grew in the two-leg place too, stubborn little things, pushing through cracks in the hard black paths. "Da… dandies? Dandy something." She scoffed, shaking her head.

Stoat would know, or maybe Timber. She sure as hell wasn't about to ask Cicadabuzz. As tenderly as she could, Fleapaw grasped the leafy base.

The leaves scraped against her nose, and she scrunched her face as an itchy tingle spread across her muzzle. Feels weird. With a sharp tug, the whole plant popped free, roots and all. A few crumbs of dirt clung to its base, but she gave it a quick shake, loosening the rest.

Not half bad if she didn't say so herself. Fleapaw thought she remembered seeing these in the medicine den.

The apprentice padded over to her pile, setting the flower down carefully, then immediately scrubbed her nose against her shoulder, trying to chase away the itch.

"Dandy.... Dandruff?"

She'd figure it out later.

𖧧 Fleapaw has acquired a whole Dandelion.

OOC -
Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 2 → Success!
Rolled a 1d7 for Category: 4 → Illnesss
Rolled a 1d3 for Harvesting: 1 → Clean Uprooting

All I did was try my best

FLEAPAW

6 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

This the kinda thanks I get?

 

[F l e a p a w]

-

Fleapaw hummed, satisfied with her find, even if she wasn't entirely sure what it was called. She stepped back, surveying her sad little pile—a couple half-dead stalks, some twigs, and now, her prized dandy-whatever. It wasn't much, and certainly not enough to clear the stupid, impossible debt Cicada had stuck her with. But it was something, and that was better than nothing.

Fleapaw sniffed, rolling her shoulders, shaking out the damp that clung to her mud-streaked fur. These stumps weren't exactly full of green stuff, and she was running out of places to look, but giving up wasn't exactly an option.

Besides, it was still early. Maybe she'd look around a bit more before moving on. Flea took a step, and something crunched. She froze, and her ears pricked, amber eyes darting down. She lifted her paw and saw nothing but a mess of pitiful green sprouts, crushed beneath her weight.

If that was ever something useful, it was squashed flat now. Oops.

OOC - Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 3 → Failure

All I did was try my best

FLEAPAW

6 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

This the kinda thanks I get?

 

[F l e a p a w]

-

Fleapaw sighed and kicked at the dirt as she moved, trying to scrape off the bits of crushed plant off her pad. She'd already spent too long out here, picking through dead shrubs and useless weeds, and she hardly had a damn thing show for it. By now, she was pretty sure Cicadabuzz was an actual bug. How else would they find all those plants?

Was this even enough? Would Cicada look at what she found with those cold dead eyes and tell her to stuff all of it down her gullet?

Her tail flicked sharply as she veered toward another cluster of shrubs, ears twitching at every tiny rustle in the undergrowth. Fleapaw scowled, prodding the base of a bramble bush. Nothing but dead leaves and a few sharp little stems. She picked through them anyway, hoping something useful might be hiding beneath the brush, only for a fat brown beetle to skitter out from under her paw.

Fleapaw jerked back, a strangled squeak slipping from her throat as the beetle flapped its wings and buzzed straight at her face.

"EEEEEEEEEEE!" She jumped straight back, slapping at it with her paws. The beetle bounced against her skull and landed flat on its back, buzzing angrily. Fleapaw huffed, heart pounding in her chest. She squinted at it and then slowly turned around. Man, she really hoped no one saw all that.

She glanced around to make sure she was alone. If the stumps had anything to say about it, they didn't start speaking now, so she turned back. Fleapaw jabbed at the beetle, her face wrinkling with disgust. "Get!" After a few failed attempts, she finally flipped it back over.

The beetle scrambled upright, its tiny legs flailing for a second before it skittered away into the underbrush. Fleapaw glared after it. "Bzzt bzzt to you too bitch. Ungrateful ass."

OOC - Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 3 → Failure

All I did was try my best

FLEAPAW

6 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

This the kinda thanks I get?

 

[F l e a p a w]

-

Heart still pounding in her chest, she stomps away from the crime scene. Her eyes scanned the ground ahead, searching for anything that even remotely resembled something Cicada might use. But honestly? Everything just looked the same.

She ruffled through another cluster of weeds, half-expecting another bug to jump out at her. No beetles this time. She let out a breath and pawed through them properly—only to find more useless greenery and a very suspicious-looking rock.

Fleapaw groaned loudly and kicked at the dirt. She was gonna carve out her own eyeballs if this kept up. "This is such shit! Cicadabuzz fuck you! Eat rocks loser!" Fleapaw screeched and slapped her paw against the dirt. She turned on a stump, dragging her claws down its side to relieve some of her frustrations.

She was wasting her time. Wasting it on something that wasn't even entirely her fault in the first place. She should've been training—learning how to fight—not picking fuckin' flowers and weeds n shit.

Why should she have to fix Cicada's stupid plant problem when they were the one who hoarded all that crap to begin with? If it was so important, maybe they should be out here digging in the mud instead of sending her when she didn't know a damn thing.

OOC - Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 3 → Failure

All I did was try my best

FLEAPAW

6 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

This the kinda thanks I get?

 

[F l e a p a w]

-

Fleapaw stiffened, fur bristling as something prickly brushed against her leg. She coiled away from it, nearly tripping as she whipped around, ready to throw down with whatever touched her.

She spun around to find a scraggly patch of weeds nestled against the stump. Fleapaw tilted her head at the offending plant. The leaves were short, crinkled, and kind of pathetic, but the growth itself was greener than the dying grass around it.

It looked like any other weed she'd ever seen. But whatever—it was there.

With zero hesitation, Fleapaw slumped forward and lowered her head to pick it. Unlike with the dandy, there was nothing gentle about the way she snatched its leaves between her teeth and ripped it from the ground. Dirt and broken stems tumbled from her jaws.

The crushed leaves invited a bitter taste into her mouth to assault her tongue. Flea whined and hurriedly carried it to the pile so she could drop it. Regrets. Sooo many. Fuck!

Fleapaw's face scrunched in her suffering. "Ghhhack!" It was horrible—bitter. Worse than mud or whatever the hell she got force-fed her the last time she was sick. Suppressing the urge to gag, she spluttered and dragged her tongue against her paw in a futile attempt to get rid of the taste.

Then there was that stench—pungent—weedy—so foul it made her whiskers curl. Cicada better use this shit. If she just put that filth in her mouth for nothing…

𖧧 Fleapaw has acquired Ragwort Leaves.

OOC - Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 2 → Success!
Rolled a 1d7 for Category: 7 → Travel
Rolled a 1d3 for Harvesting: 1 → Butchered but Salvageable

All I did was try my best

FLEAPAW

6 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

This the kinda thanks I get?

 

[F l e a p a w]

-

That's it.

I'm done with this shit! Flea spat into the mud, dragging her tongue against her paw in a desperate attempt to get rid of that nasty ass bitter taste. It clung to her mouth stubbornly, and no amount of saliva seemed to make it go away.

With a growl, she began to collect her meager collection of herbs. The bundle was awkward in her jaws, stems squished together as she tried to cram them all in her mouth. She was ready to get this over with, crawl back to camp, and dump her findings with Cicadabuzz to see just how horrible she did.

The marsh stretched ahead. She weaved through the twisted roots and sodden growth with weary paws, ears tuned into the distant croak of frogs. Her eyelids felt heavy, but the thought of getting this stupid errand over with gave her a little energy.

She didn't notice the silver strands glinting in the pale light until she walked right into it. Thin, sticky strands clung to her muzzle, her whiskers, ears—everywhere. She jerked back, but that did nothing to help. More wrapped around her, tangling into her fur, clinging to her paws. Flea growled, staggering back, swatting at an unseen threat.

"Ughhh fucking great." She garbled through the herbs still clutched in her jaws. The apprentice exhales sharply and flicks strands of web off her limbs as best she can. To think that after all that—all the digging through the mud, getting pricked and stabbed, attacked by bugs... The worst is far from over.

𖧧 Fleapaw has acquired Cobwebs

- Exit Fleapaw -​

​

OOC - Rolled a 1d3 for Success: 2 → Success!
Rolled a 1d7 for Category: 3 → Broken Bones
Rolled a 1d2 for Poisoning: 2 → Clear

All I did was try my best

FLEAPAW

6 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

This the kinda thanks I get?

- Herb Hunt Results -​

✗ Grass
𖧧 Foxglove Seeds (+1 Poison)
𖧧 Dandelion (+1 Illness)
𖧧 Ragwort Leaves (+1 Travel)
𖧧 Cobwebs (+1 Broken Bones)