Warrior Cats: The Four Clans

I might post a story here, maybe from my Stormwarriors.

Okay, it's kinda long, and I started with Chapter 2 cuz you would have said one was a little, unbelievable. So, here it is. Chapter 2 of Stormwarriors. Blunt hammer to the face please. Tell me what you think

Chapter 2
Nightkit woke up in a dark place with his sisters asleep beside him. At first he didn't know where he was. He looked around and saw he was in a cave of pulled-over reeds. It was night outside and there were still traces of the storm. RiverClan was sleeping. His head hurt from Chasewing hitting him. He sighed and heard rousing behind him. Nightkit whirled around and got poised to strike if he had to fight. But it was Gemkit, moving her paws in a chase dream. Then, the cat that they had been sleeping with opened her eyes and twitched her tail. She hissed for Nightkit to come to her, and the black kit obeyed, crouching low. It was going to be a long night. But he hadn't noticed the full moon that night in the sky, and the clouds wrapping around it...

Nightkit jerked awake. It was morning. The sun batted him like a cat hunting a mouse. Greenkit was awake beside him, but afraid to move in fear of waking up Reedfrost. Nightkit stared at her and her eyes caught her brother's. They looked at each other for a while before Nightkit stood up and shook his pelt. Greenkit stared at him and cringed back in fear when the queen roused and opened her blue eyes. The tortoiseshell looked at the kits and huffed, then went back to sleep. Nightkit rolled his eyes.
"Come on. We're obviously RiverClan kits now, so let's act like them," he hissed. Greenkit looked at her brother, then to Reedfrost. She didn't know what to do, but finally she thought that Nightkit was right and stood to follow him. They chased each other out of the nursery and tumbled around in front of it. The only thing that would have made it better was the comforting and caring gaze of Tesselsong, their mother, watching over them. Now there was some queen they didn't even know that was due to have her kits soon. When that happened, Nightkit and his sisters would definitely be abandoned and forgotten. It was almost certain they would die when the kits came. Nightkit sighed and decided not to think about it. He tackled Greenkit and they twisted and twirled around each other.
Suddenly, a large black she-cat with amber eyes trotted up and glared down at them. Nightkit stared back up defiantly. The she-cat hissed and drew back a paw, ready to cuff the kit. Nightkit leaped out of the way.
"Stormkits aren't allowed to play in the camp," she rasped. Nightkit didn't even know what she was talking about.
"What's a Stormkit?" he asked. The black cat laughed and swiped the black kit over the head, sending him soaring across the camp.
"You're a Stormkit! You're a filthy good-for-nothing ThunderClan kit! You were sent to us by the storm so we have to take you in, but you're here as prisoners!" she snapped. Nightkit took a step back, scared. He wasn't a prisoner! The black cat threatened to swipe again, but Nightkit darted into the nursery, Greenkit at his heels. This couldn't be happening. They curled up together with Gemkit. Nightkit lay there helpless, but he was in a spot where he must help himself, because help wasn't going to come from this queen, or any other RiverClan cat. He just wanted someone to tell him what was going on. He closed his eyes and wished he was home again, playing with his sisters outside of the nursery with apprentices giving him tips and Tesselsong keeping a close eye on them, keeping them in her warm gaze. He wished Jaggedpine was there to talk to him and tell him about amazing cats in history. He wished he could be doing this right now. He wished this queen, Reedfrost, was a bit more loving and caring. He wished everyone was. He wished they weren't keeping him prisoner, and he wished they would take him home. Wishes. They were only thoughts never to come true. He pretended that the leader, that large white tom, would come in right now with a few more warriors and they were taking them across ShadowClan territory just to take them home. Wishing and pretending. That was all...

"Wake up you stupid Stormkit!" a voice hissed into Nightkit's ear. He had fallen asleep and it was now sunhigh. He opened an eye and looked up to see the tortioseshell fur of Reedfrost. She was glaring at him. He looked around and saw Gemkit and Greenkit huddled together at the back of the nursery. "Hurry! Leafstar wants to see you now!" she ordered. Nightkit stood and shook his black fur. The yellow patch over his eye that showed his resemblance to Tesselsong gleamed in the sunlight when he stepped outside of the nursery. RiverClan was gathered for a clan meeting. Two warriors that had been waiting outside of the nursery followed at the sides, herding the kits toward a round rock that the white cat was seated on. He glared at them. Nightkit wanted to glare back, but he had learned his lesson about doing that to a RiverClan cat. His head still hurt from being beaten by the black she-cat.
They stopped in front of the rock and the kits looked up at the great cat above them. He grinned.
"Hello Stormkits," he laughed. Nightkit didn't know what a Stormkit was, and why everyone was calling him that. His name was Nightkit! "You may be wondering why I call you Stormkit. It will be the name of shame that will hang over you for the rest of your lives in Riverclan." Nightkit didn't know why they needed a name of shame. Did any other cat have a name of shame? Nightkit shook his head. They weren't going to spend the rest of their lives in RiverClan either. "You kits are not RiverClan kits, but rather ThunderClan prisoners, that we have found a very good thing to get that ThunderClan will pay for you. From now until then however, you will be the lowest cats in Riverclan, along with Flightpatch back there." The white tom pointed his nose to the back of the camp, where a dirty old gray tabby she-cat lay. Nightkit didn't know what half of this was about. Why were they prisoners? What had they done wrong? Why did ThunderClan have to pay for them?
Little did they know, the battle between ThunderClan and RiverClan still was raging on.

@scorchheart

first impression.

• first of all that font's really ugly and hard to read. good for a title, but not for a story. stick to readable fonts. it's probably things like this that have teachers demand a default times new roman--it's something they can read. and because of the fact that the whole thing's just blinding and i have to copy and paste it elsewhere to read, i can't gather anything else from it. just: do not read if you value your eyesight.

one.

• "something like that" -- something like what.
• "nights", "mothers" -- let's learn to use the apostrophe, why don't we?
• "She didn't like them at all. They liked her." -- already i'm getting those mary-sue vibes. what parent would like children that don't like them? :/ maybe i just know different parents, but.
• "her father and his mate" -- wouldn't his father's mate make it the mother whose lap she's sitting in.
• your characters have serious emotional-stability issues. they can work up into a real spazz attack and yet the only ajectives you seem to be able to dredge up for them are "calmly" and "emotionlessly", ect.
• k so i'm having issues deciding what animals these things are. they're mates, which technically makes them some sort of animal other than human, and yet the mother has a lap for the child to sit in--therefore, something like a monkey, right? but they growl and bark. some special type of monkey? and by the way, male lions don't spout hot air at each other--unlike humans, they get to the nitty gritty and duke it out like men: with their claws and fangs.
• "Just hand it over, and then Ill walk out of here like we never met.Her father said." -- usually when characters talk there are quotation marks. and look over your punctuation. also, add line breaks.
• "Soloed and Karnack" -- what kind of names are those? but then again with a name like cloudandis.... i still can't tell what kind of animals these are that can make those noises.
• "wasnt'" -- |: here we have an apostrophe, but not in the right place!
• "But it wasnt' always like that." -- yeah, well. would you hook up with someone you didn't like?
• "They seemed to have been infatuated" -- typically when you take a mate you're in love. but i'm not so sure about animals--surely only the human race can afford to let LOVE into the equation. everyone else just takes the best and furthers "survival of the fittest". again, more confusion about just what these things are.
• "another wolf heard" -- oh it's a wolf! why would a wolf give a flying crap about what their parents thought? typically wolves are just... now if the parents were the alphas. but unless they're siblings both of their parents couldn't have been alphas.
• "However, one day, Soloed had a child, and had named her Cloudandis, but she hadn't been exactly thrilled to know that she had to take care of a little pup for the rest of her life. Neither had liked it. But soon, she became quite valued in their hearts." -- okay so in the space of three sentences you have changed subjects three times and required the reader to have to go back and sort things out.
• "But she didn't get used to living with them." -- dude they're the only ones she's ever lived with why wouldn't she be used to it.
• " Didnt they have shame?!She had thought back then." -- don't you have shame, to so blatantly ignore the poor punctuation? and thinking thoughts is typically portrayed in different ways, but never without indication and ended so blatantly.
• "Cloudandis just sat in between them" -- i thought she was in mommy's lap.
• "It was just so boring and ridiculous." -- yes, even though i cannot take care of myself i am being careless with my fate. |:
• ""No, she'll stay with me. And she is not an IT." her mother argued." -- again, dialog spacing. and this is a VERY late reply to the father's claim. i still can't believe the father would believe he's a better parent if he still refers to it as it.

[this was written awhile ago--april 28, 2010 to be specific, and as the title indicates, i wrote it in thirty minutes. i didn't look over it after typing it, but i did after i posted it, and so if there are any glaring mistakes, i missed them the first time around. can be found on my dA and on my fanfictions thread.
dA link is here: http://solunasunwell.deviantart.com/art/thirty-minutes-162296211?q=sort:time+gallery:solunasunwell&qo=2
edit to fix the spacing after italics. ]


THIRTY MINUTES

He had never been much of a talker.

Awkward with people and an only child with parents that were perpetually occupied by either arguing, work, or their ever-increasing-in-frequency affairs (it was a miracle they were both still alive and married to one another), he had kept to himself, his only company being books, paper and pencils, his pet cat, and his piano.

Books were a given--they were a way to escape life and its endless, never ending array of problems. They spoke of worlds were miracles were possible, where everyone, even the most undeserving swine, had a happy ending.

All that reading gave a young boy with not much to do plenty of ideas, and it was ever so easy to disappear into a world of graphite and paper and bright colors, where everything was warm, forgiving, perfect.

And yet there was only so much time reading and drawing could occupy. The grey tabby, a gift from his parents when times hadn't been so bad, was his only companion. Other animals seemed averse to him, and since he cared not for human company, only the small cat offered hint of physical interaction, a tangible friendship. His small circle of animal friends had once included a small yellow song bird, but during a fight between his parents in which tempers had risen higher than normal, he had awoken to find the cage empty, a few almost invisible crimson stains on the carpet being all that was left of the bird's last song, a sorrowful melody that told the heartbroken boy all he had needed to know.

Lives, after all, were so fragile, liable to break with a careless touch as a careless word.

And then there was the piano. His piano. The one thing, perhaps other than the tabby, that commanded more of his heart, his soul.

There was so much you could convey through music that he could never hope to read through books, or express through his colorful drawings.

While his passable art was the result a lifetime spent doodling as the heated arguments drifted through the empty house throughout the night, he showed a true calling for the piano. And unlike his art, which did not come close to showing his frame of mind, almost always of a false, bright nature with warm, lying colors, all his hours spent locked up with the grand with pillows under the door crack produced only heart wrenching melodies which told tales of a lonely boy loved by no one.

The piano always cried loudest during his parents' arguments. They were always shouting too loudly to hear his entreaties, or else cared little for the pleas given life by metal and wood.

And so he'd continued to live, if live is correct a word for the empty, music-fueled, ambitionless existence he led after his parents gave him his own apartment to 'get rid of that incessant, infernal noise'. If he spent an unhealthy amount of time with the piano after moving out, it was nothing compared to how he seemed to survive only on the notes alone after part of his soul died. He could not bring himself to replace the tabby who had stuck with him through the toughest years of his life, and although it seemed that the already-empty existence of the lonely man without a soul to call a friend already had surpassed the lowest dredges of humanity, after his loss he became less than a husk, less than a sad marionette given life by some cruel god.

He was already in declining health when the firebug struck. An aged man weary of existence before his thirtieth birthday, he could not bear the thought of continuing through the meaningless years before him without the piano, which surely could not be saved. Even despite the firefighters' entreaties, the sad, empty man had chosen to stay and sever the last physical ties to the tragic plane of humanity, and neither hand nor word would convince the man to leave the last bit of his soul to burn in the vicious flames without him.

As it had begun with the silent cold, it ended with the crackling heat; and as he had entered fighting every step of the way, he had left with a content smile.

-- Edited by Souki on Thursday 3rd of June 2010 03:36:59 AM