[ti]Open[/ti]Popping in from the Weasel's Den

[Ringtail]

Cold..He was cold..Yet. He couldn't explain it. It welcomed him. The aura of the dark forest shrouded him, whispering, hissing, snarling. Blaming him. Blaming and fighting its way to his very soul. The elder tom slowly stood, his paws crunching pine needs..He was tempted to shout out that he didn't belong. 

But he did. He knew very well he belonged. His own destiny and fate sealed to this very end. He could hear the ringing of frightened kitten mewls, of worried, yowling mothers. He could hear their Hiss of Death, the welcome he would have gotten had he not dared tread on such a path.  

The tom took a step forward, glancing around. Why? He should know bad cats climbered about here. His amber eyes darted frm left to right, padding along. Like he had an particular part of the Dark Forest to go anyway. The elder's body seemed into sink into the darkness like in a bog, coating him with the not so sparkly goop that seemed to reside there.  

"Grr...I ain't getting no where at this point.." He complained, clearly not sure where he was going in this darn place. Well, time to get adjusted to his new home.

[silverfang218]

A certain spotted tom is wandering as usual, his path today taking him a little ways from his typical route. He hums softly to himself; other than a desire to stray a bit from his normal route, his day has been pretty normal- or night, it’s impossible to tell down here. Normal that is, until a strange scent finds his nose. Tilting his head up, he sniffs at the air. A strange scent, unlike any of the clans while also having the slight scent of decay. A dead cat, but not dead for long, who seemingly wasn’t from any of the three clans that the spotted tom knew of? This could be quite interesting.

He alters his course towards the source of the scent. It isn’t long before he finds his target. Definitely dead, definitely could be interesting. The spotted tom makes a strange sight in this dark, forsaken wood. His pelt, splattered with white spots and white roan marks that seem to glow in the meager light provided in the starless forest, could easily be mistaken by a lost, naive cat as a StarClan cat’s pelt. His voice has a disarming sing song quality, and his small size makes the tom not very threatening. His expression is kind, his eyes seeming to show sympathy to every cat he looks at. The strangest thing may be the dark liquid that marrs his pelt just around his ears and the fact that the end of his tail and tips of his ears are downright see through as if he’s fading into the darkness. With his white markings making it near impossible for him to hide, the tom makes no effort to be stealthy, making his way directly towards the newcomer.

“Why hello.” His friendly voice is quiet with a tiny hint of caution. He’d hate to be approaching a cat who only intended to fight, but even a chase through the dark pines would make his night more interesting. “My name is Spottedheart. You look a bit lost. If you tell me your name and what- or who- you are looking for, I might be able to help you?” Spotted mews helpfully. The small tom doesn’t often search for conflict with other dark forest cats, only truly getting pleasure out of harming innocent, unsuspecting souls. Should Weaseltongue request it, Spottedheart will do his best to help his fellow dark spirit.

[Ringtail]

The brown tom turned to curiously look to whom was addressing him. "Hello.." His tone was gruff from old age, but that didn't stop him in this literal hell. He narrowed his eyes, not because he couldn't see but one of caution. He really didn't need to start anything, espically when he just got here in this damn forest. "Spottedheart, huh? Well I ain't really looking for anyone or anything..Just making my way through..Name's Weaseltongue..." The elder seemed not to keen on his sing-song tone, rather weary of it. The dark forest was full of those like him, murders, kitnappers, and other things that are probably too nasty to name.
The newcomer tom treaded his way out of the weird tar-like bog setting, slowly making his way closer to Spottedheart. He looked the other cat over, notting his odd appearance, but decided against even asking. He'd rather see what this other tom would do, or even say.
"So..This is the Dark Forest, huh? Didn't think I'd end up here.." Oh he knew, he knew through his lying chops he would come here, rather than Starclan. His misdeeds would surely show it.

[silverfang218]

“It’s nice to meet you, Weaseltongue.” Spottedheart replies formally; Spotted notes Weasel’s seeming weariness of his tone, but he does nothing to change his sing-song voice. That’s simply his normal tone, and most cats who see Spotted’s true nature would have to agree that it was truly a great prank by StarClan to make such a demented cat seem so naturally friendly.

“Well, I’m not so sure I can help as much with ‘just passing through.’ I’ve been here a while and I’ve yet to find the other side.” Spotted chuckles, attempting to joke with the newcomer just a bit. “Yes indeed. Welcome to the Place of No Stars, where all us StarClan-forsaken cats go. Though most of us usually know that we pissed off StarClan long before we end up here…?” While Spotted’s tone implies that last little bit is intended as a question of some sort, his knowing smile says he already knows that Weasel is aware of his crimes. Other than that, Spotted says nothing and reveals nothing. He’d be happy to answer questions, both about himself and about the place they’ll both call home for the foreseeable future, but he offers no answers unless asked. Nor does he act like he cares much about Weaseltongue other than the other tom’s name; to Spottedheart a slight change in facial expression or tone of voice says much more than any amount of words, so he likes learn about new acquaintances without having to trust, or listen to, their stories.

[Ringtail]

"Guess it's nice to meet you.." THe elder continued to keep his weariness about this new cat, or was it just the tone of his voice he found annoying? He wasn't sure. He gave a snort and decided to licked at his paw, which wasn't as starry compared to Spottedheart. Being recently deceased, the stars wouldn't appear for some time on his own body..
"Alright..I suppose I ain't passing through..An old tom like me ain't go time to pass.." He joked back, finding the younger cat amusing. So far so good, for making aquintuinces,right? "I'm sure most of us know what we have done..Not like we got much to hide here..Beisdes ourselves." The brown tom pointed out, because it was true. There wasn't much to hide but your own self.
"So, what brings you to me...Besides trying to be friendly? You, a guide or something?" He was just throwing questions to keep the other talking, because well what else was he to do? Sleep? The old tom wouldn't have minded but...Something else seemed to flutter in his mind. A certain she-cat that had be friended him suddenly distracted him, because that was honestly the most pleasant thing he remembered. He shook his head to clear the memory, returning to licking his paw.

[silverfang218]

Spottedheart seems to chuckle softly at Weaseltongue’s little joke, though he is actually amused by Weasel calling himself “old.” While Weasel may appear 25 or so moons older than little Spottedheart, Spotted would have to guess that he was long dead by the time Weasel was born. Old indeed. Spottedheart nods in agreement as his new acquaintance points out that there isn’t much to hide except one’s self. The small tom, only the size of an apprentice, has spent much of his time in the Dark Forest trying to stay out of larger cats’ ways, though his white spotted pelt often makes it difficult for him to hide.

As Weasel asks if Spotted is a guide or just trying to be friendly, the tom chuckles and shakes his head. “I just so happened to be nearby. I caught a bit of your scent, and I’d like to think I know most cats’ names around here and most cats scents so when I find a new, unfamiliar scent, I always figure I better follow it. Never know what kind of interesting cat I might meet at the end of the scent trail. I suppose I’m being friendly, now, and I’d happily answer any questions you have about this place, so I suppose I could be considered a guide of some sort.” He speaks with a bit of a pondering tone, like he’s never considered his role. Spottedheart has answered questions and helped several cats now, though some of the living cats he’s offered to… ah… “guide” around the Dark Forest have turned up dead the next morning.

[Ringtail]

Weaseltongue honestly appeared younger, at least a good chunk of his moons seemed to drop. He appeared as a much younger version of himself, one that could be called roughly the sight of a healthy 5 year old. At least, Weasel felt much more comfortable at this 'age'. He didn't seem to care though.
"Though to give a wise tip, following your nose might not be the best thing, learnt that day one of training." He seemed amused by his small comment, stretching himself out. Gosh what a relief that was, he could stretch and not feel like a total furbag of pain. "But you're right on all four paws, you'll never know whom or what you'll meet. Can't argue that. Though are there common areas of this place most of the others hangout at? Places I should avoid?" He was honestly watching his own tail, for his sake. Kitnapping was a pretty serious crime, one could be bullied around in this realm for it. At least if his thoughts were right.

[silverfang218]

“Ah, you are very right, but… my first day of training was a very long time ago. Though, if you follow your nose into enough foxholes, eventually you learn to run fast… even if you has short legs like mine.” Spottedheart sounds and looks amused. It’s true; Spotted’s stubby little legs can move quite a bit faster than it looks like they can.

“Hmm.... Hangouts and places to avoid. Well, hangouts would be places to avoid here. Well, to be completely accurate, I’d say the entire forest is a place to be avoided, but it’s a bit late for that. Let’s see then, there’s an old, hollowed out log where an old cat named Tanglefur lives. I’d avoid there- seems like Tanglefur is pretty back and forth as far as temperament. Most cats here are wanderers, so avoid sounds and ah, avoid following your nose. As for cats to avoid… Sweetoak is the worst, probably has the worst crimes out of all of us here. Most dead cats here are to be avoided, really, but there have recently been a lot of living cats being dragged down here. There’s a small dark brownish tabby she-cat who frequents down here. Her name is Tansysong, and she might be worth talking to for you. There’s also a big ginger tom named Liongaze. A dangerous warrior, when he’s angry, but an excellent protector and very friendly cat normally. You’ll be able to tell the difference between anger and his normal state, easily. Of course, I never mind your company though I am poor protection here.” Spotted rambles a bit, trying to find any information that he thinks may help the newcomer. “But above all, avoid Sweetoak.”