pafp 《 DOOM AND GLOOM 》return & chatting

[HEATHCLAW.]

WindClan's made their point, and they'd live to remind them any chance they could.

Heathclaw is one of the many warriors in the throng. For once, just one of the collective, just one of the wounded. His flank stings from the claws thrown at his side, his neck aches with the remnants of a the bite felt there, however loose it had been. It was a shame, the dissonance between them. It would not have been difficult for things to have been different. Not at all.

He shifts his focus away from him– the tom who'd fought harder than he needed to; who'd ended up in worse shape than he'd had to– to his own, or something akin to that, at least. To those with injuries lesser than his own, greater than his own. Common courtesy, he thinks, to check up oh denmates. Heathclaw comes in step with the closest cat to him, makes up a greeting with a cut and dry sort 'f chirrup. "How're ya holdin' up?" he asks, and then to the rest 'f em, he'd raise his voice. "We all livin' to tell the tale?"

OOC INFORMATION

• Takes place on the way home from the battle! Talking to @Bluepool
  
• — HEATHCLAW: he / him; cisgender male, 42 moons. moor - runner of windclan.
  — bisexual with no clear preference. single.
  — low, rumbling voice with a noticeable, but not overbearing southern drawl.
  — goes with the tides. if loyalty is what will benefit him, so be it. independent but amicable.
  
  — for windclan – a tall and broad chocolate tabby tom with half a tail. Smattered with smaller scars, the most obvious being a sharp cut across his lower jaw and eye, that of which is half-blind. Sharp-jawed with an intense hazeled stare; lost most of his tail due to an incident when he was younger.

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[Bluepool]

Bluepool spends a good amount of time after the battle licking her wounds, keeping them clean. If they scarred over she would march her ass back to WindClan and absolutely maul the RiverClanner she had exchanged blows with. Of course, there was her tail, her beautiful tail that had been taken from her so long ago. The fox had really done a number on her but there was no way for her to exact revenge on that creature. There was no way she would ever find it again but if she ever did, she was older and stronger now. She believes maybe she could put up a worthy fight, even take its tail as a trophy in return for what that filthy creature had taken from her.

Thoughts of revenge swirl through her mind and when another cat speaks to her she almost misses it. She looks up with pale yellow eyes at the cat who speaks to her, blinking for a second as she processes who was speaking to her. Heathclaw was a clanmate that was familiar enough. A rogue, if she remembers correctly (and she does) who had joined with all the others. They had not really spoken much past exchanging pleasantries but normally did not find themselves on the same patrols or in the same vicinity often. She admires his scars for a moment, his missing tail. She wonders if he is like her or if maybe it was just something he was born with. Perhaps she would ask sometime. "If you think I look bad you should see the RiverClanner!" she says with a soft laugh. Hopefully, she gave her opponent some marks to remember her by. "What about you? You got any wounds that are life-threatening?"A light jest. She doubts he would notice if he did accumulate any new scars, as decorated as his pelt already was.

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[TIGERFROST]

Tags and Information

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He's had some time to think, to digest everything that had happened. How the first wave had crushed RiverClan's initial defensive, how two of RiverClan's lead warriors laid dead or dying on the damp ground. Tigerfrost, along with a few others, had barely escaped by the skin of their teeth. When the second wave had arrived after the first's retreat, he had been relieved to have escaped awake and alive at all. He looks like some kind of devil, battered, shredded, covered in blood. Despite his pain though, and his struggle to walk, Tigerfrost keeps his head high, keeps his eyes forward. We won, he thinks to himself. Over and over again. We won. The vocals of Bluepool and Heathclaw fill his ears, but Tigerfrost doesn't reply. He's too damn tired, in too much pain.

He just hopes nobody bleeds to death on the way home.​

 

[WEASELCLAW]

Weaselclaw barely hears the chatter of his Clanmates. His body is bruised; every step causes him to grit his teeth together and wince. The wound at his throat is the worst of them by far -- Cicadastar had done all he could to pull him apart, to leave him for dead. He's close to Tigerfrost, using his flank as support, hoping to offer what little he could in return. His wounds are still weeping.

His white chest fur and his white paws are pink to scarlet in color. Weaselclaw feels his eyelids threatening to close, but he fears if he lets them, he will die. He forces himself to stay upright. Awake.

Blindly, he looks for Scorchstreak, for Sparkpaw. Along with Tigerfrost, they'd saved his life. He owes them -- he's never felt such gratitude for his Clanmates before. WindClan had won, yes, and so far -- so far they had not lost another warrior.

"Sparkpaw," he murmurs, blue eyes searching for his apprentice. "You fought like the bravest warrior. All of you did." He is relieved that he can speak without his mouth filling with blood, without sputtering. Cicadastar had missed the vital tissue, had missed the carotids. He is living. He is living -- for now.

He knows he will have to go to Vulturemask's den, but he wants to rest first. He fears he won't even make it to the medicine cat's den if he does not.

// speaking to @sparkpaw. ​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[SCORCHSTREAK]

The battered molly limps along, unhurried now that she’s relatively safe within WindClan territory. She still can’t quite believe that they managed to escape the wrath of the river king; it’s a miracle, truly, that she’s able to return to the moorland. Fiery orange eyes are half-lidded as she trudges along beside the others; it had taken her a while to catch up, and she pays for her rushing now. She’s nearly collapsed twice since crossing the bridge, and only the thought that any paise may be her last has kept her going this long.

From her place just behind the two tabby toms, she hears the tail end of Heathclaw and Bluepool’s conversation, and manages only a short statement. "I’m glad to see you all still standing," She gives a painful dip of her head to the others. They are all ripped up, pelt tattered and stained with rusty red. But they were victorious at least as a whole, bringing glory for their clan, for Sootstar—for Juniperfrost.

Blood drips steadily from open wounds, running in small rivulets down her face. She licks across her mouth, tasting only the iron of blood. This is not a defeat that she will take lightly—her loss to Cicadastar is evidence that she has not trained herself well enough. The towering tom had bowled her over and pinned her like she was nothing more than a kit. It’s humiliating, to have been defeated so soundly, so quickly. Weaselclaw had more than likely saved her life, as did Tigerfrost and Sparkpaw. It isn’t a debt that she will soon forget.
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[ MONSTROUS WOMAN ]​

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[SNAKEHISS]

❪ TAGS ❫ — His paws drag with utter exhaustion as the raiding party heads back to camp. They ache from so much traveling, sprinting, striking, and leaping. Luckily, Snakepaw doesn't sport many other injuries, just randomly-dispersed scratches and bruises. He hadn't done much damage to that muscular brown warrior, but at least he was able to be quick on his paws and keep himself alive.

Snakepaw walked along, perfectly groomed pelt now ruffled and spotted with blood and spit. His attention ebbs in and out of the conversation between the others, until he overhears Weaselclaw issuing Sparkpaw praise for his efforts in the battle. Why was he getting praised? Snakepaw had to fend off a larger enemy all on his own! Resentment and bitterness well up in his stomach like an ugly sore, so much so that the green-eyed tom manages to march over toward where Sparkpaw and Weaselclaw are. "He left me with that RiverClan warrior, that's what he did!" The apprentice scoffs. Snakepaw had been so wrapped up in his own fight that he hadn't noticed where Sparkpaw had run off to, but perhaps he might have been a tiny bit more understanding had he known that Sparkpaw had helped save the lead warrior's life. Maybe.

Snakepaw notices how badly battered Weaselclaw is, his gaze lingering on the lead warrior for a few extra moments. The apprentice is, frankly, intimidated and surprised by the extent of the tabby tom's injuries but chooses to keep his attention fixated on Sparkpaw for now. "What in StarClan's name is wrong with you? That fish-eater could have killed me, I hope you know." Who would argue with Snakepaw that he was being overdramatic? They had killed a WindClanner prior to the battle, so who was to say that a warrior couldn't just as easily slaughter one of WindClan's youths? Snakepaw wouldn't put it past them, that clan of traitors and undesirables. They obviously didn't care to "play fair" as evidenced by Hyacinthbreath's little stunt pulling Juniperfrost over the border.

Fuming, emotions and adrenaline still simmering like a hot spring from the heat of the fight, Snakepaw snorts toward the other apprentice, "Some brave warrior, you are." Not caring to stick around in Sparkpaw's presence, the lithe black apprentice slithers forward to walk amongst the other warriors.

// out, he's angy ​

 

[sparkspirit]

The praise swells up in him, bright as flame. It burns out everything else. The way that his ear aches, and the pain of exertion, exhaustion. For a moment, as the warriors look down at him, as his mentor tells him he did well, Sparkpaw is walking on the clouds. It should be good enough to make all his wounds knit up again, brand new all over– not Yewberry's child, not attached to the ones who had left, who had hurt WindClan, who didn't care. For a moment, he's glowing. His chest puffs out a little bit, electric eyes bright with his excitement. But it does not last long. He recognizes the slump to Weaselclaw's shape, and how he presses into Tigerfrost. There would be no helping both of them combined, but instead of another moment basking in the praise, the dark apprentice comes up to Weaselclaw's other wide and presses a firm shoulder there, careful of the scattered wounds. They're alive. They would live.

That's what matters, out of all of this.

He's about to praise Snakepaw when he sees the older apprentice, to burst out with how cool he is, to offer a trade of stories once all this is over– his mouth opens, and then snaps shut again. "Snakepaw–" Already the other tom is turning from him, stalking off into the rest of homebound crowd. He was right, too. Maybe that was the worst of it. He had left him there, abandoned him to the warrior. Because– well, because Weaselclaw had needed him. So much for together, right? Sparkpaw puffs out a sigh towards the ground, but does not call after him. "He did well too," he tells Weaselclaw instead. "You should have seen us against that RiverClanner! I bet we could have beat him if I'd– if–" if you hadn't nearly died and I didn't have to come help you. Not really the nicest of things to say to a half-dead cat. So he shuts up instead.

˗ˏˋ  †〚  OOC REFERENCE INFORMATION 〛

• ooc: —
• 
• sparkpaw, sparky. dmab male, he - him - his.
  ──── apprentice of windclan. loyal to windclan and his family.
  ──── 04 moons old. born on 12.15.22, and ages in real time.
  ──── echolight x elmbreeze, adopted by yewberry. brightfam.
• "speech"

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[Addervenom]

Life doesn't discriminate

The scent of blood blossoms within camp. Thick and heavy laden as the boy's head whips in the direction of rustling heather and reinforced bramble. Every warrior stood accounted for and Adderpaw thanks the stars for that. But the mere state of them all slathered in crimson makes him scramble to his paws. Quietly he weaves through the wounded, seeking his father first and foremost. Eyes grow wide with a potent concoction of worry, pride, and anger. Weasleclaw appeared shorn to ribbon, leaving the moorland prince to tremble with ire. But he was confident the blue eyed tom did much worse to those on the opposing side of battle. "Those disgusting savages..." Adderpaw hisses, hackles standing erect and bristling with animosity for the river dwelling clan. Amber eyes rest upon the deep bite wound across Weaselclaw's throat, a scowl painting itself across his features. "Who did that to you?" An attempt on his father's life? They even fought like mindless predators. "Who did it?!" He shouts, sides heaving as he looks from the lead warrior to the others flanking his side. The boy was frothing mad, not at the wounded warrior but at the situation. Was Juniperfrost not enough for riverclan without them trying to take Weaselclaw next? "Their pelt will line your nest if I have my way!" Adder declares, taking a seething step forward. ​

Between the sinners and the saints​

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[TIGERFROST]

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The fur of Weaselclaw brushes against his own, a silent gesture of support. Shortly afterward, the other Lead Warrior calls out for his apprentice, offering praise for Sparkpaw's bravery. Tigerfrost twitches an ear in acknowledgment, then offers a nod in agreement with Scorchstreak. Not a single fatality on WindClan's side. Remarkable given how brutal the fighting, perhaps, but that second wave had surely been the saving grace of them all. No doubt they had finished the job that the first had started.

"With luck, that RiverClan Lead Warrior will bleed out on the ground." He speaks of Cindershade, a swell of triumph burning in his heart. "And Smokebreath too." Wouldn't that be icing on the cake? If RiverClan lost two of it's lead warriors over Hyacinthbreath's betrayal. Cicadastar had certainly been protective over that cat, and Tigerfrost can just barely recall someone screeching about the two being mates. Hadn't that been Scorchstreak? She was a cunning one, to be sure, surviving the RiverClan leader twice through her own intellect. Tigerfrost's vision flickers with surprise at Snakepaw's outburst. The hell? But... it becomes clear, Snakepaw and Sparkpaw had been fighting the same opponent, until Sparkpaw had left to help rescue Weaselclaw.

Clearly, Snakepaw had managed well enough on his own, though. He'd just have to get over it. WindClan would have been far worse off if Cicadastar had killed Weaselclaw. And then there's Adderpaw, sighting the sorry state of his father among the crowd. Quite the shock, Tigerfrost assumes. It was nice to see the family was so closely knit, but Tigerfrost would let Weaselclaw soothe the youth on his own. He's not even sure if the bite wound on the other's neck was from Smokebreath or Cicadastar. Those final minutes had happened so fast...​