Dark Forest Resident: Basiltooth
Aliases / Nicknames: Weirdo, Freak, Dirteyes, Leader of Insects
Gender: tom
Sexuality: homosexual
Family: Fernstripe (mother), Scorchheart (father), Quiverpaw (sister)
Other relations: Sharpecho (mentor)
Clan: Shadowclan
Rank: warrior
Characteristics: kills to protect his bugs, kills to feed his bugs
Number of Victims: 3
Number of Murders: 3
Murder Method: snapping neck (accidental), burying alive
Known Victims: Otterfreckle, Scorchheart, Bouncestep
Cause of Death: buried self alive
Cautionary Tale: N/A
Story:
It wouldn’t be entirely right to say that Quiverpaw was his protector, but in a way she was. She protected him and he protected her, together they felt like an unstoppable force against anyone who tried to make fun of them. Basilpaw for his odd dark eyes, and Quiverpaw for the peculiar way her ears bent at the tips.
When she died, taken by an infection that grew after she got injured during her first battle, he was left alone.
His mother, Fernstripe, became lost in her grief and didn’t seem to notice him anymore, as if both her kits had died instead of the one. Scorchheart had grown closed-off, too, although he always sort of had been. He would spend almost all of his time hunting, patrolling, or rebuilding the dens. Anything to avoid seeing his son and remembering that his favourite child was gone.
Basilpaw always knew that his sister was the favourite. Even if his parents tried to hide it, they didn’t do it very well. Scorchheart was indifferent to Basilkit whenever he had visited, but smiled when Quiverkit wanted to play, and Quiverkit got first pick to everything from the bite of mouse or spot in the nest. Thankfully, she never held it over him and tried to be fair, but now she was gone.
After a particularly rough session of bullying-- they had taken a pause in their teasing for him to grieve, how thoughtful-- he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.
He stopped where Quiverpaw was burried. Crouching down, he spread his paws over the mound, trying, somehow, to embrace it without disturbing it too much. He had not been here since the day she was buried, the day had last seen her. Her fur had been groomed more neatly than it had ever been, as if the dirt would refuse to welcome her if she wasn’t.
His eyes pricked. He pressed his muzzle gently into the mound, then, though he tried to hold it back, let out a choking gasp, and another, and another. Then something tickled his nose and his head snapped up.
A black-brown beetle stood atop the grave. It had faced Basilpaw, round eyes.... sympathetic. Watching it, Basilpaw had slowly reached out a paw in front of the bug. It sniffed it, then began crawling across him. Basilpaw had giggled as it tickled him.
He slowly saw bugs differently, then. Before, he didn’t really care, but now whenever he saw them he wanted to watch them, gain their trust and become their friend, have them feel safe and free to crawl around him like that beetle did. It had made him so happy when he was so sad, something only Quiverpaw had ever been able to do. Whether or not it was on purpose, he didn’t know.
But he liked to think that it was.
He wanted to see it again, so he visited the grave more and more. He felt guilty that he started to visit for the bugs and not for his sister, but he couldn’t help it. He even named them. He wasn’t sure if they would like Clan names, so he kept them simple. There was Pine, Specks, Writhler, and many more that became LOTS more as the days went by.
One day, Otterfreckle, one of his most persistent bullies, caught him talking to the bugs. He didn’t waste any second. He insulted Basiltooth, laughed at him. But the worst part was when he, in spite of Basiltooth’s begging and protests, stomped on Specks, the first one, the beetle that had comforted him as he cried.
Basiltooth launched at the warrior. They fought, and Otterfreckle won, but Basiltooth wasn’t ready to give up. After Otterfreckle had snorted in contempt and turned his back, Basiltooth leaped again, losing himself, and snapped his neck.
Basiltooth was shocked. How could he not be? He went on, staring for a long time. He had to hide it. He had to hide what he had done. After he finished digging a deep enough grave--far away from Quiverpaw, Otterfreckle didn’t deserve to be near her-- he turned around to find bugs littering Otterfreckle’s body.
Their numbers grew as Basiltooth dragged Otterfreckle’s heavy body to the hole. They.. they liked bodies?
He wasn’t going to question it. He let them crawl, let them jump into the grave to eat away at his body. He knew they would be able to crawl back out if they wanted to.
Soon after, he followed Bouncestep out of the camp. He was another of Basiltooth’s bullies, although he had apologized. But he had next to no family, and less friends. No one would care too much if he went missing, not anymore than they did Otterfreckle, who Bouncstep was trying to search for.
He already had the grave ready, and shoved Bouncestep into it, quickly shoving large piles of dirt in before Bouncestep could begin to struggle out. If he was alive when he was buried, Basiltooth figured, the bugs could have a longer time with him.
A longer time had passed before the next feeding. The pair had been Basiltooth’s only bullies. The thought of letting anyone else die, his Clanmates who were nice to him.... or at least the ones who didn’t openly make fun of him, made him something close to sick.
Then Scorchheart took Basiltooth out of camp and announced that he was planning on leaving to Thunderclan. Basiltooth got angry. Why would he want to leave him or Quiverpaw, or Fernstripe, now also buried in the ground following her death in battle, much like her daughter?
The argument grew more and more heated, as Scorchheart growling that they’re dead and where they’re buried doesn’t matter, and Basiltooth pointing out that he would still be leaving a son behind. Scorchheart simply responded that he had no son. Basiltooth was weird. He loved bugs, spoke to them like they were his friends. It was creepy, and nothing Scorchheart wanted anything to do with.
Basiltooth knew what he must do. But he didn’t have a grave prepared, so he started by tackling Scorchheart and breaking his legs. Then he shoved a large rock into his mouth to keep him from screaming too loudly.
He monologued as he dug, describing what he had done to missing warriors Otterfreckle and Bouncestep, how he did it for the bugs that cared about him more than Fernstripe or Scorchheart ever did, and how perhaps if Scorchheart had actually been a good father, it all could have been prevented.
Dragging Scorchheart into the grave, he mock-thanked him, saying that because of his father’s neglect, he found his true family.
The last thing he saw of Scorchheart was his bulging eyes and fur already crawling with insects.
For the next several seasons, years, really, Basiltooth kept to prey. No one else deserved it. It was tough to not get caught burying prey that could feed the Clan, but it was much easier than not getting caught burying cats.
Then he got sick. The medicine cat was hopeful at first, but as time went on Basiltooth only got worse, and he could tell his Clanmates were losing hope. Basiltooth knew that he wasn’t going to make it. He was already having trouble keeping out food.
He remembered hearing as a kit how if you commit evil deeds, your death will follow you. He knew there was no way Starclan would view his actions as anything but evil. He didn’t want to leave his precious friends. Writhler, Pine, Oddball, and so many more.
So with the remaining energy he had, Basiltooth dug one last grave, taking many breaks for rest. Leaping in, insects following him enthusiastically, he kicked hard at the side, and dirt flowed in obediently.
Hugging him, tickling him, the bugs were all around. Basiltooth had never felt more loved.
Additional Information:
--Partly inspired by this one episode I saw from a show that I think was meant to be Goosebumps for older kids, where an outcast had bugs for friends. The bugs were intelligent and did stuff for him, including attacking a bully. But the kid got over-enthusiastic, saying stuff like “I can do whatever” and stomped on several of the bugs. The leader bug (a praying mantis, I think) didn’t like that, so they killed him. I would love to see that episode again.
--I know there are technical terms like insects and arachnids, but let’s keep it simple.
--Writhler is one of two worms! He is Basiltooth’s favourite, but don’t tell his other bugs that! It is the redder one, with a ‘bandaid.’
--Basiltooth is actually really nice. Especially if you’re willing to hear him talk about his bugs, he would love you for it.
--Reference by Turukan on DA!
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