sensitive topics 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐔𝐏 ╱ 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝗕𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄

[SUNNVAR]

The long leaf-bare night has been burnt away to its final embers by the time that WindClan marches to their former home. The sunless horizon is tinted the faintest of oranges, made distant and shadowed by the far closer trees. Looming, nearly– a threat that rises. In the remaining shadows, snow has been made dark. The moon has been carved by violent claws to a pupil's width, though that too sinks ever lower. The stars still shine above their heads. StarClan will watch this battle. Regardless of how it may end, they will know. The true WindClanners fought for their home. For the sanctity of their clan, and the laws of their ancestors. Sunstride had not been there the day that blood and battle birthed new life. Yet in this moment, he feels something that must be terribly close. Anticipation. Terror. The unending sensation of being watched.

He had always known himself as a cat born to have eyes upon him. That warriors would look to him thrills his chest. He has earned their trust; their faith. Now this is his only chance to prove it. Ego is a bright beast that flares its wings and roars. He thinks that he wields it for the good of those around him.

Now that the fragile and injured of his fractured clan are safely hidden, there is nothing remaining to keep them from their fate. Sunstride rests at the head of the horde, crouched low to the snow despite the flame red of his pelt. His tail lashes violently behind him. Though his wounds still ache and throb with each beat of his heart, he knows that he is ready. That all of them are. They had gone over the plan before they had left: Ensure that they do not win the tunnels. They are the heart of WindClan; we cannot lose them. Take the center, and push outward. His heart had urged him for a speech he could not offer. In the end, he left it at that.

Likewise, there is no battle cry here. No speech to rally them. They are ready. He is ready. A deep breath, and a nod, and with a bunching of his muscles and a wordless yowl, Sunstride leads the charge into camp.

𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓  ╱╱ 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 〚 11.22.2023 〛 —————«

• OOC. hi everyone! first of all, please wait for ava before posting!
  
  this is the final battle between loyalists and rebels! this thread will result in the formation of duskclan and the loyalists being run out, so ava and i both ask that the thread is played accordingly. please feel free to make separate private threads for pre-plotted battles that take place during this time if you don't want to get overwhelmed or lost with everything that happens. <3
• 

  SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.

• "speech"

​

 

[SOOTSTAR]

It was as much of a normal day as it could've been. The overcast is gray and cloudy, a light flurry of white gently floating from the sky. Sootstar sits at the mouth of her den, her brows furrowed and tail wrapped around her cold paws. The fresh-kill pile had been low today and wounds from a recent battle stung. The cold breeze was welcomed tonight for it soothed her inflamed skin and scabbing cuts.

It is the one moment of the day she is not watching that they sneak in right under her nose. A yowl sounds and just like that the camp explodes into a frenzy. WindClan cat's let out startled yelps as rebels throw themselves into the camp, their claws unsheathed and fangs ready to pierce. Sootstar jumps onto her paws, her pupil's becoming moons as she frantically looks around the camp. "The tunnels! Get into the tunnels!" She demands to those skilled enough for the task, rushing out from her den as blood begins to spill and soak into the ground below.

"Kill them all, KILL THEM. They'll DIE in a pool of their own blood!" Saliva flies and her throat burns against the fiery rage in her voice.

That's when she sees it among the bodies- a pelt of orange, of red, the glow of a new-leaf stream. Their final fight would be here, one of them would never again leave camp alive. Sootstar thinks about the beginnings of WindClan, the first night spent in this camp, the look of admiration- fear in her clan-mates eyes. She remembers Duskpool and Honeytwist, Hyacinthbreath and Dandelionwish, Vulturemask and Badgermoon. Tigerfrost. Weaselclaw.

'Are you here with me now?' She calls to the void, in the eye of her mind she feels like nothing but a lost kit without him. 'Fight with me again. Turn the gorse red with me!' StarClan could not chain that tom, they could not keep him from her. His memory floods her with grief and rage, the image of him sick and delusion on his sick bed burns in her mind. She will fight this battle for him. For the land she's spilled blood, sweat, and tears to make her own. For this clan she has built and risen with her own calloused paws. For the look of horror she'll see flash across Sunstride's daylit eyes as she pummels her claws one last time into the pulse of his neck.

Swerving between claws and the storm of fighting cats she leaps, powerful hind limbs sending her into flight. Dirt-stained claws slip from their sheathes as she aims to collide down atop of Sunstride, sinking her hind legs into his shoulder blades and fangs into the flesh of his hindquarters. Her balance would not last long if her land succeeded, she or Sunstride were bound to tumbleweed over. Sootstar must remain on top if she would defeat the traitor leader.

☾ INFO BATTLE

• fighting @SUNSTRIDE
  This is open now :)
• 
  » Soot ․ Sootstar
  » WindClan Leader
  » She/her ․ Mate to Weaselclaw
  » Tiny blue smoke she-cat with green eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
• 
  » A high-stamina foe who can be difficult to hit.
  » Excels in quick, short moves.
  » Fights to kill and maim
  » Fatal attack of choice is an underbelly dive.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

They were ready- he was ready. Featherpaw's skin was ablaze, his pelt was a nest of brambles and bites. From the moment she had heard about the outside world, Featherpaw had been prepared to fight it- her claws were forged to glint in this moorland sun, her blood was made to be spilled and smoothed into scars, and her teeth were made to fasten into the flesh of those who threatened what she loved. If he were to die here, he would be worthy of his own flesh- the son of the cat who had lead them all here. The son of their healer, who would mend everyone who came out of the other end.

And this might be the end. But Featherpaw had known that from the moment she had become an apprentice. From before then, even. And he had done his best to tell all of his peers that they were in danger, that there were fangs to their throat. He could only hope they- she, calico and dirt-dusted- had listened.

Sootstar's unholy screech was a vein of thunder. Featherpaw bristled, discomfort twisting her gut in flipping aches. They'll die in a pool of their own blood! Cold sprawled through her body and she had to bust out of it- she cast away the ice. Shards burst from her. The adrenaline took the place of the freeze.

Nasty-faced and repulsive, ill-mannered, a terrible example- a prodder of food with no respect. Nightmareface was a mutt of a cat, and Featherpaw had found her disgusting even before she had helped the cats who'd tried to kill her father. Hurt them before they hurt you. Hurt them before they hurt you. Hurt them before they hurt you.

Featherpaw leapt, mouth agape and paws thrust forward. Claws grasped for any flesh they could puncture; there was no sun to blind Nighmareface, today. She would have to rely on herself.

\ attacking @NIGHTMAREFACE (pre-arranged!)​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

Deep down inside, Rattleheart knew she wasn't much of a fighter. She simply hadn't been built for it, far more comfortable down in the tunnels, searching for prey that would keep her friends and family well-fed and content. A tunneler was always most comfortable with the cover of darkness surrounding them wholly, and she was far from an exception to that idea. It was where she thrived - where things felt natural to her. The blanketing shadow of night may not have been the exact same thing as the all-consuming void that the tunnels occasionally felt like, but it was close enough. Just similar enough that she felt like she was in her element once again, her anxiety fading into a dull background pulse in her mind as they navigated over the familiar moorlands toward Windclan's camp. Their camp, the one that they had come to reclaim. The one that they inevitably would reclaim, or die fighting for. Either way, she thought that she could at least be happy with how she had gone out.

Fighter or not, she'd come out on the other side having fought for her home, her friends. and her family. Everything that she loved. She wouldn't be a shadow or a coward anymore, she'd be a tunneler that had battled for what she believed in. And she could be pleased with that, whether she ended up waking up in Windclan's camp tomorrow morning, or alongside the cats far above in the stars.

Sunstride's yowl echoed through every dark corner of Windclan's camp, wordless but carrying a message all the same - Sootstar was going to lose. She and her loyalists would fall, and Windclan would rise from the ashes that she had made of them. That was enough to spur Rattleheart forward, her jaw clenched and her muscles tensed before she sprang forward, long legs carrying her into what had once been her home. What would once again be her home soon, if all went well. She didn't let out her own announcing yowl of fury, counting on the dark patches of her pelt to help her blend into the orange-tinted gloom that had the entire camp in a chokehold. She wanted to be hidden until the first loyalist caught her eye, pale green gaze blazing against the monochrome canvas of her fur as she leaped for their back, trying to land her small form atop them and dig her fangs into the side of their throat. It would be a brutal move if it landed, out of character for a warrior that had often tried to just mildly wound or discourage before.

// she has no pre-arranged opponent, so feel free to have your loyalist be the one that she's attacking!
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[BLUEFROST]

The night is still, and then it is chaos. Bluefrost's head snaps from where it had rested against the crook of her foreleg; she scrabbles to her paws as cries of alarm sound around the camp. Sootstar shrieks, To the tunnels! She obeys mindlessly, her body numb from cold and panic. "The tunnels," she cries, carrying the call to her tunnelmates, to those who are left, anyway. So many of them are gone—and here they are again, eyes flashing green and gold in the gloom, their teeth bared and tongues lolling.

She scampers for the edge of camp, ready to dive into the nearest opening she can find, when an explosion, weighted and calculated, hits her flank. A familiar scent, smeared and tainted with the stench of the Horseplace, scrubs up against her tongue as she hits the ground. Rattleheart. She'd known the dark-furred feline since her birth, had tunneled alongside her, had faced badgers and collapsed passages together. Now, her teeth dig into Bluefrost's throat, a blow that would have been deadly had Bluefrost been any slower. Fangs nick painfully at the edge of her neck, and pain blossoms scarlet as she tears herself away.

"Traitor!" The small gray she-cat hisses and flings herself forward, aiming to bowl Rattleheart over by attacking their limbs with unsheathed claws. If she successfully gets her off of her paws, Bluefrost will administer a bite to the shoulder.

[ attacking @RATTLEHEART ; not pre-planned! ]

, "​

​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

Camp explodes into mayhem as shadowed enemies creep from the gorse. Granitepelt is jostled awake by piercing yowls of dismay and shock, by Sootstar's answering war cry of KILL THEM! KIL THEM ALL! The gray warrior scrabbles about in his stolen nest, green eyes losing their sleepy haze. Wind buffets his short, scarred pelt, reality slapping him in the face with gusto. Sunstride's minions had slunk from their prison in the Horseplace and had rallied here in the home they'd lost. Fear lurches inside of him—are they outnumbered? He cannot tell immediately, though his eyes adjust quicker to the dark than his Clanmates'. He has not faced cats in open combat before—but he has killed before, and that has to mean something.

"Cowards! Of course you launch a sneak attack," he sneers, his teeth bared to their yellowed roots. Despite the hammering of his heart, Granitepelt propels himself forward, his claws and fangs reaching for the nearest rebel. If he makes contact successfully, he will attempt to slash at his opponent's chest.

[ no pre-planned attacker; feel free to be the one he's attacking! ]

, "​

​

 

[Irispath]

Yewberry left knowing he may not see another sunrise, and as he told himself many times, that was fine by him. But if he were to die today, he would be taking someone with him. The plan was spoken, and he knew his place would be underground in this battle. When it was time to leave for battle, he followed the warband through the moors and slipped underground. The tunnels were just as he remembered, and he had no problem following the group from below. He felt choked with anticipation and anxiety at the fact that this was IT. Within the next few moments, hell would break loose and when the dust cleared, either Sunstride or Sootstar would stand victorious. This had happened so fast, from his perspective. One moment he was just sitting in the barn and then the next, Sunstride and his rebels come in and now he's helping them fight. This was a fight for vengeance. For justice. If he can do ONE thing right in his life right now, it would be this. This is the first step in becoming someone he doesn't hate.

He can see the exit now, and see the chaos that erupts above. Paws and pelts dash by and he crouches, lying in wait. Sootstar yelled for her loyalists to take to the tunnels, and he grins slightly. Come on. Come into the tunnel. He's ready. He's made sure to be just out of sight of the entrance, so that when someone does come, he can take them by surprise. Claws slip from their sheathes and sunset amber eyes are focused on the entrance to the tunnel.

His body springs into action the moment a figure enters his tunnel. With a vicious yowl, he lashes out with both paws in an attempt to rapidly slash at his enemy's face.

((Not preplanned, feel free to be the one he's attacking! ))​

 

[Gooseberry]

A sneak attack… Gooseberry should have known. A time of respite is cleanly cut short, and he is quick to get on his feet. How pathetic of them to attack at a time like this… though he can only say so much, huh? That is the kind of tactics that a true WindClanner would deploy. Even so, as war cries ring out from the leader he is so loyal to, he turns into the loyal dog that he is. There is no time to reconsider his life, now.

His speed is no match for most of his wayward allies, but that does not matter. This is a battle, and battles are fought with strength. And his strength will always prevail. Gooseberry is not picky on his target, as they will all end up slaughtered before the next day anyhow. The first cat he spots is one that he finds truly pathetic, but it is not personal. @GRAVELSNAP takes up no place in his mind, now just another lamb to slaughter.

"I'll enjoy watching your blood coat the moors," Gooseberry taunts the younger tom with glee. His large paw is raised above Gravelsnap's head, and he tries to put all his weight in one fatal swipe. It is successful, but instead of landing a powerful blow, it's swiftly dodged. He huffs an angry breath, wildly attacking the space around him instead to try and get at least one hit in. Even if he does, it is not all that powerful, as his movements are sloppy at best.​

​

 

[NIGHTMAREFACE]

Nightmareface is half in, half out of a skinny tunnel, forepaws draped over her muzzle as she snores away. She is dreaming of mice, oh so many field mice! They are running into her claws, slicing themselves open on her razored talons, and the ground is painted in their innards. She will gobble them all up and fill her stomach - she'll be as contented as a fat RiverClanner! But her fantasy is interrupted as the camp descends into chaos, screeches filling her ears.

Mismatched eyes fly open and she leaps to her paws, surprise morphing into malice. Kill them! Sootstar orders, and she won't let her down again. A youth leaps towards her, the offspring of those bloody traitors, and Nightmareface grins ghoulishly in the face of the other's claws. "You will die, little field mouse!" She cackles as claws hook into her shoulders, a forepaw bracing the ground to keep herself from falling. "The dirt is thirsty! It will drink your blood quickly!" Gnashing teeth snap at Featherpaw's face, saliva flinging from her parted jaws.

// fighting @FEATHERPAW​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

➴➴ They had done nothing but cower like a frightened kit the past two times they'd faced down their own clanmates on the field of battle—but Gravelsnap will not run away this time. They know that they may face down a clanmate, a friend. But they have more to lose if they don't. They chose Periwinklebreeze, and by extension Sunstride, back when Sootstar first drove half the clan out of their camp. Now, there is no future for them in WindClan, with Peri and Houndthistle and Slatetooth, if they don't fight to reclaim it. It is with this thought in mind that Gravelsnap rushes forth, frantically searching for their brother. Where is he? He has to be here somewhere, doesn't he? Sure, they know that Slatetooth can hold his own—had done more than hold his own against Lynxtooth—but still something sharp bangs around inside their ribcage at the thought of their brother alone amidst this chaos.

Out of the corner of their eye they spot Thriftfeather's brilliant golden fur collide with black and white. Periwinklebreeze. Then the sound of a scuffle reached their ears and they turn to see Rattleheart launch themself at Bluefrost, and their friend is thrown to the ground. They don't have time to call out to any of them; before they can scrape together their thoughts into some kind of plan, there is a great white form before them, jeering and threatening to spill blood. There is a massive paw hovering over them, poised to strike. The black-patched warrior careens to one side, narrowly avoiding a terrible blow to the head. It would have hurt if it hit, they know. It may have been enough to kill them, or to disorient them enough for Gooseberry to follow it up with a killing bite. But remain unscathed, and they bare their teeth in a snarl at their former clanmate.

The older warrior's next attack is even less coordinated—it is frantic, and Gravelsnap's eyes narrow to slits as they watch his limbs flail. They cannot avoid being hit, but at least the claws that catch their face, snagging on the scars already laid across their brow, are lighter than they could have been. Any worse a hit and they could have lost an eye, a horribly ironic match to Peri. Rage floods them, tingling like static in their limbs, at the thought. The blood that drips into their eye doesn't completely block their sight, and they strike out with their claws, hoping to catch Gooseberry across the throat. They need to end this quickly—the larger warrior hits hard, but he is slower, so they must take every chance they can get to bring him down. "Shut up and die," they spit at the enemy, eel-black tail lashing.

// fighting @Gooseberry​

​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

Bluefrost. It wasn't a surprise in the slightest for her fellow tunneler to be the body that she collided with, considering the she-cat's dedication to her clan. Her dedication to Sootstar. Yet much like Bluefrost's own thoughts didn't go immediately to hatred, Rattleheart didn't feel the rush of loathing one might have been expecting in the middle of battle. Instead she just felt a rush of pain. Of some desperate beast in her chest that wanted nothing more than for all the loyalists around her to sheathe their claws and ask for forgiveness. Because deep down inside she knew she wouldn't be able to deny most of them such a thing. Not when so many of them had once been friends that walked alongside her, keeping Windclan alive and helping her family to prosper. It was agonizing to throw that all aside and pretend it didn't matter anymore.

Perhaps that was why she didn't just keep her jaws clamped shut around the side of Bluefrost's neck. Perhaps that was why she tried to speak through the gasps of air she took into her lungs, a hiss of pain leaving her as she felt fangs sink down into her shoulder. "I may... I may be a traitor to Sootstar, but I'm not a traitor to Windclan!" Her words came out disjointed and pained, attempting to shove Bluefrost off of her shoulder with as much force as she could muster. "And I know you aren't either! You're better than this, Bluefrost. Better than her!" The tunneler's frantic words were punctuated by her claws, trying to rush forward and shove Bluefrost off her paws and onto her side, claws aimed to rake down her shoulder. Her attacks were swift but also superficial, meant to inflict pain and hopefully knock some sense into her fellow tunneler but not maim her. Not yet, not when there still had to be a chance. There just had to be.

// fighting @BLUEFROST and also attempting to reason with her!!
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

You will die, little field mouse! Little- and she was small, smaller in age and mind, but Featherpaw would not stand for it. To be as stupid, as disgusting as her- it was unbecoming, it was not his destiny to die a little field mouse, mere prey. She would fight.

He was unwise- he let the insult settle, sit too sensitively, and he bit. "I'll kill you!" Featherpaw screeched, composure lost. And that moment of faltering judgement, it was detrimental. Her claws punctured skin, and for a moment she felt like she was winning, and could shriek a taunt- but Nightmareface was older, and Featherpaw let a moment of foolishness cloud that. Nightmareface had ran through battles that Featherpaw had never even hear stories of.

Surely-infected fangs made purchase on her face, and Featherpaw howled in pain. Anger burned cold yellow, sallow as leafbare sun, in his glare- enraged by the pain, he too trid to snap at Nightmareface's face, his balance wobbling in the process.

\ @NIGHTMAREFACE ​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[PINKSHINE]

Pinkpaw's a good listener. She would prove it today. She would listen to Brightshine and Scorchstreak and Featherpaw and Sunstride and Downypaw and everyone. Be fierce! Don't get distracted! Take the tunnels! Pinkpaw doesn't like those dusty holes one bit, but they still belonged to WindClan. The real WindClan, not Sootstar and her bullies! She watches Sunstride for the signal— the nod of his head— and she slinks towards the tunnels alongside her sister— her sister who she hopes wasn't mad at her anymore, and, if they were, Pinkpaw was gonna beat up so many bad guys to prove they shouldn't be, anymore. And Sootstar yells all scary - like, to the tunnels! Pinkpaw bunches her shoulders knowing that she wouldn't let them get there, no way! This was gunna be her job!

Maybe she should be more sneaky like... or maybe she should deter any of Sootstar's cats from jumping into the tunnels by proudly displaying that she was there, guarding them! " No way any cat can beat two of us! " she mews to Downypaw, white - striped tail lashing. She sees familiar faces— of course they would be, and she bristles when she sees Bluefrost who she is so incredibly mad at, trying to attack Rattleheart. She wants to smack her, but... maybe that wouldn't be a smart thing to do? Featherpaw's always thinking about the smart thing to do, and Scorchstreak and everyone...

...but she doesn't wanna just sit and wait! She wants to help! A cat comes close, and maybe they weren't even gonna go in the tunnels, but they were getting close and Pinkpaw doesn't like it, so she leaps at the nearest loyalist, it's at the last second that she remembers to even unsheathe her claws, but she did it, is what matters!

staring at the mirror gotta smile, smile 🌸🌷🦄🦩 don't be late, we got plans!

• ooc: feel free to be the one she's attacking! She's with @downypaw also!

• NOTE: SHE IS A FEVER COAT BABY!!
  

  

• ( IT'S TIME TO START A FUCKING RIOT, RIOT! ) PINKPAW APPRENTICE OF WINDCLAN. DAUGHTER TO BRIGHTSHINE & HEAVY SNOW. SISTER TO HEATHPAW, DOWNYPAW, & FINCHPAW.
  —— SHE / HER; UNOPPOSED TO THE USE OF OTHERS
  —— CURRENTLY 6 MOONS OLD. AGES EVERY 16TH
  
  A tiny, longhaired calico she - kit with sunburst eyes ringed blue around her pupils (central heterochromia). While you can clearly see her flame markings on her face, the rest of her body is currently covered by a grey fever - coating. Though the whites of her are still very much visible. Pinkpaw bounces around WindClan without a care in the world! Her emotions are big, and she makes little effort to regulate them, resulting in both her usually cheerful disposition, as well as making her prone to sudden bouts of extreme anger or sadness. Rarely seen without a smile!
  

  HEAVY IC OPINIONS! Pinkpaw is a very irrational and childish character!​

​

 

[SUNNVAR]

A sneak attack, they call this, as if they have not done just the same– as if he had not done this for them four seasons ago, when the winter was as cold and as cruel as the one before them now. They had gone to SkyClan, then. Led into camp by one they thought they were to trust. Juniperfrost's kit. How long ago this was now. They should know to expect it. Perhaps they do. Though Sootstar's loyalists lick their wounds, they are quick to gather at her call. Violence bursts like an artery around him. His own blood is quick to well up in tired pinpricks. She leaps to his back, her light form just enough to throw him off. Shoulders hunched and tensed in uneven motion as the warrior jolts forward as her teeth rip in. He does not defend himself from her — he knows there is no use in preventing it as soon as she lands.

Instead, he dedicates his motion to a sudden pivot, throwing his body harshly to one side. He hopes to fling her and follow the motion to face her head on. She seeks to remain above him, but he knows her danger from below. His belly stings from her claws. Another among the long list of scars he would carry from the rabid moor queen. "Enough!" the warrior bellows. "If we are to die, you will come alongside us! No more will you suffocate this clan." With a leap of his own, Sunstride would spring into her space, a spread paw aimed squarely for her ear in a powerful box to send her head ringing.

𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓  ╱╱ 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 〚 11.22.2023 〛 —————«

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.

• "speech"

​

 

[downyfur]

The tunnels. Downypaw maintains their stiff position over the mouth of their chosen, even as Sootstar's distant cry spills over the gorse wall. The glance they shoot their sister is filled with nerves, jittering and crackling red in the shadowed corners of their eyes. Even now, Pinkpaw would probably be able to smile if someone cracked a joke.

Downypaw had quenched herself with rest in the Horseplace. More than she deserved, really. They had not defended their meager camp in the raid on Cottonfang's heels, still overcome with the escape's exhaustion. Hunting had never been a success for them either, at the barn or in their birthplace. All they could do was go where they were sent and observe where they were welcome.

Their sister's tail whips in the air like a frenzied string of flags in a storm. Again they glance at her, worry lining their round face. "Pinkpaw, I don't…I hope it doesn't—" Come to that, they finish in their head, because Pinkpaw is already springing away into the battle thick.

Alarm needles their stomach. They know what the right thing to do is—chase after their beloved sister so that they don't lose each other ever again—but their paws remain anchored by the earth outside of camp. Moon-wide eyes stare at the few snippets of battle they can catch, turning the sights over and round and through in their mind as though their analysis could somehow be beamed into the fighters' brains and help them. Somehow.

Sootspot had sheltered her in these tunnels. Cottonfang had led her through them. The only way she'd ever be able to help is to do something. The guilt is so strong it bowls her over, stumbling, in the direction of the fight.

Black-tipped ears press flat against her head as she scampers through the fog of bodies, tail lashing uncontrollably behind her. They're not sure what they're looking for until it dashes right in front of them, green eyes ablaze, a tragic young mirror of her queen. "Juncopaw," Downypaw gasps, for no reason other than hoping instinctive recognition will halt some of her furious momentum. Some pathetic part of them hopes she preserves this odd peace even as their claws tighten into the trampled grass, preparing to sink them into her pelt instead.

ooc: @juncopaw , let me know if i powerplayed too much!​

 

[FOXGLARE]

⁀➷ Foxglare charges into camp with fury lighting inside his chest, feeling as bloodthirsty and canine as the animal he named himself after. His veins pulsed with rage-lit fire, they had lost so much already, and for what reason at all? To fuel the ego of one cat, to feed her unquenchable thirst for power.

He was looking for one cat in particular, claws itching to shred apart muscle and tendon beneath inky black fur. The pit of darkness weighing in his stomach would not diminish by ridding the moors of the serpent that had snuffed out Sedgepounce, he knew. And perhaps the latter would have protested the delight Fox took in gory, retributory violence. But he did think that killing him would feel good. Perhaps he really was just another heartless rogue.

Foxglare's searching would be cut short immediately by a sneer and a rip of pain to his chest. He hissed and realized he was pounced upon by a stranger. The Shadowclanner.

He must have been either the stupidest cat in this entire forest, or a glutton for bloodshed to abandon his own clan to fight for Sootstar and her pathetic lot of decaying worshipers. Either way, the blue-pelted tom's blood would be used to wash away the mad queen's power that seeped upon the sand they called home.

"Ya reek of carrion still, Rat." he snarled. He would lunge at the foreleg that raked claws across his chest, attempting to put the limb between the vicegrip of his teeth and wrench it with a violent, doglike shake. Meanwhile, his own forepaw would raise to strike at any surface of the other feline it could reach whether he was successfully within his grip or not.

HOW COULD YOU THINK, DARLIN&#039;, ⁀➷☾⁺₊ I&#039;D SCARE SO EASILY?

• OOC: // mobile post !!! attacking @GRANITEPELT , not pre-planned !
• 
• 
  — sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
  — he/him. 14mo moor-runner of windclan
  — a large, scarred white and golden tabby tom with grey eyes
  — smells like wet oak and dewy sedge
  — sounds like leon kennedy, with a vague texan drawl.
  — the straight-faced and taciturn adopted son of houndthistle, lived as a twolegplace loner until 7 moons old, now a moor-runner of windclan. resilient, but not invincible. the continued stresses of war and a significant loss have led him to hold fast to his strict internal moral compass for fear of faltering.
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — hs by ava, fullbody by antiigone
  — penned by eezy

​

 

[HARBINGERMOON]

☾ He couldn't do it there was no way in hell the scarred tuxedo could just sit tucked away while the battle raged right outside. They had already fought off the clanmates who attempted to woo him into the nursery. If he was going to cower away like a pathetic scrap then it would be in his own nest. One after the other warrior's sprinted from the den and a mental ticker kept clicking away. Upping the rage burning beneath his coat like a fire as his breaths became ragged. Harbingermoon assumed he was mere days away from birthing the demons rolling within him and pain riddled every waking moment. They couldn't even hardly get to dirt place without tumbling and throwing up frenzied curses. Yet, his legs obeyed as wobblily as they were and he sucked in a sharp breath ignoring the pangs throughout his gut. With nothing left to lose he was driven by little more than frenzied hatred. Stomping from the solitude of the warriors den the stench of blood and the sound of screeching cats almost felt like a lullaby. When his haunting gaze landed on the battlefield a satisfied thrill ran up his back. The cry for the tunnels did not go beyond him but even he was aware of his current state.

There was no way they'd make it to the Tunnels without getting shoved off into the nursery full of crying pests. Catching a glimmer of a black pelt he saw just within reach a lone cat. Looking around hectically for their next move and Harbingermoon knew then and there his opportunity had risen. Unlike the time with Whisperwish this would be a far more difficult mountain to climb but the Lead Warrior threw all sense to the wind. Slowly, he crept forward ignoring the flying fur and tumbling cats around him as his wild eyes locked onto the back of Slatetooth. While the other was preoccupied he managed to get within a reasonable length to make a short pounce. All the pent up frustration boiled to a point then tipped as a vicious snarl erupted from their chest. Reaching with outstretched claws he aimed to sink them into the others back side hoping to latch on for dear life in an attempt to gain the advantage on their chosen victim. ☽

☾ OOC ☽
Do not intervene! This is a plotted scenario with @slatetooth​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

It is Scorchpaw's second battle against her own Clan — it is Scorchpaw's second battle ever. When she'd become an apprentice, six, nearly seven moons ago now, she'd never anticipated using the battle skills that Badgermoon taught her to turn against cats she'd been raised by; cats who she was friends with. Her littermate. If she saw Rumblerain on the battlefield today, would she have to fight them? If they saw her, would they try it?

She follows Sunstride as his apprentice, but also as acolyte. StarClan be with us is her silent prayer. As long as it was true, WindClan — the real WindClan — would reclaim its rightful place over the moors and drive out Sootstar and the rest of her hornets. The air is beyond tense as the barnyard patrol advances towards camp. The very atmosphere feels stretched to the point of snapping, heavy with cold, indifferent snow.

And then it bursts. They are upon camp, and cats break into hurricanes of fur and teeth and blood. Scorchpaw braces herself for defense, trying to remember all of the training that Sunstride and Badgermoon alike had given unto her. It's then that she spots her opponent: a flurry of blazing autumn reds with a white mask, almost similar to her own pelt. The apprentice charges towards @Honeybadger. , claws unsheathing as she runs, and aims to score them down his shoulders. As long as it isn't Rumblerain.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 ✧ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌

• 

• 
  
  — scorchkit . scorchpaw
  — she/they ; apprentice of windclan
  — short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — signature by dreamydoggo, template art by sixbane
  — penned by meghan

 

[SOOTSTAR]

With a thrust she is sent flying off Sunstride, her paws scramble to save herself from sliding flat on her face into the snow. Hastily she spins around, the flame pelted tom bellows for Sootstar's end. She hisses as he leaps, swift on his paws sending him blurring across the clearing like a flash of thunder. A heavy paw of ivory slams down onto her head, the blunt force alone being enough to send a ringing through her head, let alone the claws that bore down on her skull.

Fury storms in her eyes, she looks at Sunstride now as nothing but prey needing to be killed. Yowling she lurches her head forward with an open wide jaw, into his thick chest fur she sinks her teeth with the desire to break through skin. If she latches she tugs and violently shakes her head like a dog with a rope, bloodying her maw as her own forehead swells with crimson.

☾ INFO BATTLE

• attacking @SUNSTRIDE
• 
  » Soot ․ Sootstar
  » WindClan Leader
  » She/her ․ Mate to Weaselclaw
  » Tiny blue smoke she-cat with green eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
• 
  » A high-stamina foe who can be difficult to hit.
  » Excels in quick, short moves.
  » Fights to kill and maim
  » Fatal attack of choice is an underbelly dive.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

 

[WeepingWillow]

She had lost her mind. Torn between right and wrong, facing battles with her own self of what her parents and what she wanted. Even dead, she didn't want to disobey them, feel their claws grip her spirit and pull her body deep under the ground for going against their words. She was trained better than to fall victim of disobedience. And to disobey Sootstar, that was wrong wasn't it?

She didn't want to be a traitor.

The call was piercing, merely a few hours from running from the barn the traitors had chose to reside in. Blue eyes blinked slowly, before claws immediately pushed through paws, her small form pushing from camp to throw herself into someone, anyone.

She would show Sootstar her loyalties would always lay with the black queen, unlike so many others who turned their head from her with spitting words that she did not deserve. She was doing what was right for her clan. They were blind to her ambitions. They were.. they had to be wrong.

Anger flooded her body, adrenaline, she wasn't paying all that attention on whos back she would throw herself at with claws attempting to dig into shoulders. She had a job to do, and that was to protect Windclan. Not these traitors.

// planned attack with @RABBITCLAW

​