sensitive topics ππ‘π€π˜ 𝐈 πƒπŽπ'𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐔𝐏 β•± π…πˆππ€π‹ 𝗕𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄

His life does not end with a bang, but with a whimper. Gooseberry still gets a hit in, and his pride swells as blood is spilled, just as he promised. His smile quickly falters however as the warrior he saw as pathetic just seconds ago suddenly gains a surge of confidence, and it doesn't take long for him to start choking. A trail of blood flows steadily from his neck, as it’s cleanly sliced into. He certainly didn’t expect that to happen, and he looks down confused as he suddenly can’t process anything. When the pain hits, his eyes blow up. β€œUrk-β€œ Gooseberry splutters, blood coming out instead of words. For the first time in his life, he has things he wants to say, but they do not come out. As the light slowly fades from his eyes, though, he only has one thought. It’s not about how bad he feels for his remaining family now having to take care of themselves, or the fact that he is leaving the world before he even gets to meet his kits. It’s only about how sad he is that he didn’t get to coat the plains he called home more red.​
 
No matter what, they were going to take back their rightful home from Sootstar. Even if it meant killing everyone here. Rumble... Why did you betray us. Her heart sunk as she approached the battlefield. It was here where she may have to kill one of her kin that lost their way. No. Riley, we promised that we would kill Rumble if we needed to. She crushed her heart the moment fighting broke out, ready to take the lives as many as she needed in order to win this battle. For far too long they've allowed this madness to go on and now they were going to end it. The era of Sootstar would come to an end.

However, there is a battle going on so to speak. Her thoughts are cut short when she feels claws sinking into her shoulder, a yowl leaves her throat. Sunnyday appears in her mind, as well as his teachings. I may not have size, but this will do! Adrenaline fills her veins as she rolls harshly onto her back to try and crush her opponent or the very least loosen their grip. By no means is it the end. When Rabbitclaw turns to face her opponent, it is none other than her former apprentice Weepingwillow. Fur bristles while fangs are bared towards the she-cat.

I failed. I couldn't teach you properly. Agony once again rips her heart, yet she doesn't show it towards Weepingwillow. Never, even as she trained them did Rabbitclaw show any vulnerability. It was almost as if she held no love for her former apprentice. "Are you really a traitor?!!" If she were a better cat like her sister Scorchstreak, she would've been able to stop this long ago. Shown Weepingwillow what was right and wrong. To pass down her skills to someone who wouldn't follow evil.
  • attacking @WeepingWillow no interventions please!
  • β€” rabbitclaw / windclan tunneler / feminine pronouns / 45 moons
    β€” pansexual / single / looking / open to flirting and crushes
    β€” scar riddled short-haired lilac tortoiseshell with blue eyes
    β€” may powerplay minor harm / can powerplay healing
    β€” biography / @ on discord for plots
    β€” penned by velou
 
White hot and searing, her teeth press down upon a core of pain he did not know he was holding on to. His vision is taken by the bloody churn of ocean-tide, and his head rings at the same frequency as her own. They share their pain for a moment β€” a bizarre link that grounds him into who he had been, all that he had done. The wars that he had fought at her behest, the admiration that he had once held for her. An absurd superimposition of past and present. Of Sunstride and Sunnvar, the rogue and the warrior. Her deputy. Leader of only himself. The scar across his chest is well and truly mauled, yet he cannot shake what it had left in him. What he had done. WindClan would carry the weight of his failures for moons to come. And even with this, even as his chest tears upon and his weight surges into her once more– it is not an escape.

He seeks only to force the leader off-balance; should he be lucky, onto her back. Bloody snow froths around them as his hind paws dig in to push. The forepaw he does not use for balance lifts to slash wildly at her shoulder and side where he can reach. Sunstride had been made to weather a storm. From the time of his birth to this very moment, he has been molded to this. They both had their fates to live up to now.
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  • OOC. β€”
  • 75520456_7ilCehUbViZ0qy8.png
    SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
    ——– HE – HIM – HIS β•±β•± 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.
    NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.

    TH β•±β•± LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.
 
β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”βŠ°β—ˆβŠ±β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”

The cry for war came, washed over him and he met it with wide eyes and trembling limbs. It was one thing to be born the son of bloodshed and battle driven, child of herbal remedies and protective violence. His name meant ferocity, his name meant fear, conquest, destruction and wastelands strewn with bodies and crimson pools and he felt more meeker than a mouse than a bear in that moment. Amidst the clash of claws and teeth singing through the air, pointed daggers driven in and yowls of furious outrage and abandon he was nothing but a splash of rosette dappled rust across the ground with not a single sensibility left in his skull to rattle about. Bearpaw was afraid, not of the fighting but of his own claws pitting against another, of what his strength may do to a cat his age and size when he was built for power and brutality but his heart ached for a more gentle life than what he was borne into.
The apprentice turned, his gaze like the reflection of the sky as it scanned over the yowling midst of tangled bodies and torn fur flying like dandelions in the air - he looks upward seeking peace and looks down to feel claws ripping him back from the heavens.
He was not sparred his presence, he was an obstacle like any of the other rebels whether he indulged or not, Bearpaw felt himself shaken - his only mercy the thick fur of his neck before he was tossed aside and clambered back to his paws with wavering uncertainty.
He hated this, blood pounding in his ears, he didn't want to fight but fighting was the only path to freedom now wasn't it?

  • Ooc - Anyone can have attacked him otherwise it can be an NPC!

  • dglicue-5c0fa557-9d89-4b01-8784-30641829cdcf.png
    Bearpaw
    β€”βŠ°β‹… Apprentice of WindClan
    β€”βŠ°β‹… He/Him
    "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
    β€”βŠ°β‹… SH Chocolate Rosette Tabby w/blue eyes.

 

ALL NIGHT GAMER

The shrill cries of battle erupted out all around as the Rebels descended upon the camp. Silverthorn had been curious as to when they had planned to return, now here they were at long last. There was no desire to go running for the tunnels, that had never been his sort of style. The moor runner preferred the notion of pitting his claws and fangs into the very heart of the fray where he prayed that he could remain useful to Sootstar by cutting down as many traitors as possible. Forever he had remained caught under the shadow of his own kittypet heritage, but after tonight he longed to be seen as the hero who served his leader to the bitter end.

With the hunger for violence already brewing within him it didn't take him long to single out a target. The youth he had in his sights looked so much like their vile parents, and it sickened him! A wicked grin of pointed teeth filled his features as he went for the apprentice with his claws hungering for blood. "I'm going to look forward to killing you, vermin!" He cackled as he faced Bearpaw after tossing the younger tom. His tail lashed to and fro as he rounded on them once more with sadistic intent.

Lunging forward, he attempted to headbutt Bearpaw in the face before aiming to hook his claws into the apprentice's shoulders so he could throw him to the ground yet again.

//Attacking @Bearpaw
 
-ˋˏ ༻☽༺ ˎˊ- The battle rolled in as sudden and fierce as a summer storm. Sunstride's yowl rang across camp, raising the heads of resting WindClanners, and Juncopaw was on her feet with the rest. She made her way into the fray of warring cats, spitting words of traitors and righteousness as they sought only to kill. It was.. beautiful.

Juncopaw had missed the attack on the barn. She was appointed to guard the camp, much to her dismay and disappointment. Always underestimated, scorned, left behind. But she was here, now, with claws primed for battle as she stalked through the crowd, looking for an opponent. As hungry for blood as she was, she knew better than to attack a seasoned warrior - though she was admittedly ready for her name, herself. She'd capitalize on someone smaller, take an easy victory, for there was no room for honor in this StarClan forsaken place. Anything to prove that she was worth something to her rightful Clanmates.

She almost misses her at first, darting past the little thing with such a fury. But her eyes catch a glimpse of the soft blue fur, and she changes her directory - moving towards Downypaw with showing teeth. She says her name, Juncopaw, and the silver feline feels she can almost taste the young apprentice's fear. "Downypaw," she replies, toothy grin curving down into a frown, a snarl. Familiar with the apprentice for only a short time, she always expected something meek and obedient out of the soft grey cat. She never expected her to turntail with that coward of a medicine cat, much less to appear here now in the heat of battle.

As soon as Juncopaw replies, she begins her move towards Downypaw. Slow and calculating at first, but only for a mere moment before she suddenly lunges in their direction with outstretched claws. __In her forward lunge, she moves a white-tipped paw towards their face, aiming for their eye.__
  • ooc: attacking @downypaw
  • JUNCOPAW[/color] ✩ she/her, moor-runner apprentice of windclan, seven moons. β­ƒ an antagonistic blue-silver tabby chimera she-cat with green eyes. β­ƒ mate to no one. daughter to former gin rogues. apprentice of mocking-grin. β­ƒ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking β­ƒ penned by ixora ↛ @.ixora on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
 
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β”€β”€α¨’β†Ÿβ†Ÿα¨’β†Ÿα¨’β†Ÿβ†Ÿα¨’β”€β”€ Instinct reigns in battle. Hesitation is as deadly as any sharp-toothed foe, and Wolfsong cannot afford to duel it. As his mate, Featherpaw, and Bearpaw are all beset by their own opponents, he does not allow himself a moment to consider where to lash his claws, and the mocking call loosed by Silverthorn kicks Wolfsong into enraged motion. Later, he will understand the lightning impulse as weighing Bearpaw's prowess against Featherpaw's, against Sunstride's, and that his dream-snared boy is not coarse enough to bear blood. But now, Wolfsong thinks of nothing save Hummingbirdheart's opened throat and Silverthorn beside her. "You'll see only the insides of my belly when I swallow your eyes!" He snarls as he leaps to intercept Silverthorn, meaning to slam into his side before his blow can find its mark and pin him with claws searching for flesh through fur.

//attacking @SILVERTHORN
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WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 41 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.
  • β€” β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜†β˜† WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
    β€” β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜†β˜† INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
  • β€” β˜…β˜†β˜†β˜†β˜† ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
    β€” β˜…β˜†β˜†β˜†β˜† BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
  • β€” β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
    β€” β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜†β˜† KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart and his own pregnancy, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
  • β€” β˜…β˜†β˜†β˜†β˜† POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to youβ€” it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
    β€” β˜…β˜…β˜†β˜†β˜† ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.
 
Rattleheart’s green eyes glaze with pain; they use a paw to shove Bluefrost away, and she skids in the snow, panting with exertion. β€œA traitor to… to Sootstar… is a traitor to WindClan,” she snarls in response. Her tunnelmate rushes at her, quick and light, and Bluefrost is thrown onto her side; claws rake painfully down one shoulder and she shrieks with pain. β€œYou’re better than this, Bluefrost. Better than her!”

She spits; it’s pink and frothy, decorating the frost-covered moorland. That can’t be right. β€œI’m notβ€”I’m not better,” she says, struggling back to her paws. Her gaze is bleak as it sweeps over her opponent. β€œI’m… I’m the same.” She speaks without conviction; the words are as dead as she feels inside. She charges again, this time at half the speed, aiming to bowl Rattleheart onto their back. If she succeeds, she will attempt to score her claws down her chest.

[ engaging with @RATTLEHEART ]



, ”
 
Granitepelt’s claws hit their mark, leaving rivulets of red down a ginger-flecked white chest. The tom he strikes it burly, thick with muscle, and his voice is full of contempt as he snarls that Granitepelt still reeks of carrion. Teeth clamp against his foreleg, and the former ShadowClanner hisses with rage and pain. His opponent’s claws rise, tearing at Granitepelt’s cheek and leaving a smear of red that dribbles loosely down to his shoulder.

β€œYou should’ve stayed in your Twoleg sanctuary, crowfood,” he snarls, attempting to wrench the foreleg clamped in Foxglare’s jaws free. If successful, he will use his non-injured paw to scrape snow and dirt into the other tom’s eyes and swipe his claws over the other’s face.

[ engaging @FOXGLARE ]



, ”
 
➴➴ Blood trickles into their vision, the surrounding camp growing redder by the heartbeat, but Gravelsnap cannot be distracted. Not when they have a clanmateβ€”an enemyβ€”in front of them, baying for their life to end. Their eyes squeeze shut as they thrust their claws forth, and though they do not see the strike connect, they can feel it just the same. Claws sink into flesh, and guilt cloaks them like a blanket of snow, cold and suffocating. But then warmth covers their paw, sprays across their face, and hazel eyes crack open once more.

Gooseberry does not strike back. In fact, the older warrior does not say anything, save for a horribly wet noise, before collapsing to the ground. As he watches the tom choke, blood spilling over pearlescent teeth, tainting pristine white fur, a sense of grim satisfaction washes over them, its tide pulling away any sense of guilt with it. Their last words to the tom hang in the airβ€”shut up and dieβ€”and a part of them is pleased that they’d managed to make him obey.

They can’t seem to catch their breath, though. Their chest is tight, ribs aching from what feels like too much pressure. Nausea strikes them, a harder blow than the one they’d received from Gooseberry, and they sway slightly as they move to stand over his body for a moment. The light has faded fully from his eyes by now, and a sharp smile curls across their muzzle. "Hey, you listened," they say between panting breaths, tongue darting out to lick some of the blood from their maw. Perhaps it’s their own, perhaps it’s his. Gravelsnap finds that they don’t care. It will wash offβ€”this will all wash off, from paws and muzzles and pelts, Sootstar’s WindClan will be wiped clean at last.

With a final heave of their chest, Gravelsnap turns and empties their stomach onto the ground nearby. Ugh, their eyes sting, and the taste of blood will haunt them for days just as it did the last time they’d killed an enemy. But the battle isn’t over; they cannot stop fighting until WindClan is itself again, and so they turn back to the fray with tired eyes.

// technically still in the battle but i cannot write more fighting so just pretend he’s busy fighting an npc
 
Hesitance plagues all their preparation. Their name echoes from Juncopaw's mouth and stays their attack. They never expected the older apprentice to know them back, little as they know her in the first place. She'd always been a distant figure, a moor-runner on top of her lofty nature, a far cry from the diminished status Brightshine's traitorous kin had lowered them too. Downypaw had never known whether to admire her or not. She reminded them of Bluefrost, in a way: haughty and dismissive, if more loud-mouthed, and someone who fit the description of Sootspot's teachings (warnings, possibly).

Panic slices through them as Juncopaw lunges. Without warning, because Downypaw had really learned nothing if they expected any more words out of what should be their enemy. Instead of slipping to the side, like they later curse themself for not doing, they raise their paws in front of their face to shield it. Juncopaw's white-gloved blow knocks them away with ease. Pain erupts beneath their left eye; it screams through their nose and yanks reflexive tears from their eyes. They had blocked something, but it wasn't enough.

The girl lands harshly on all four feet. One blue eye remains squinted shut despite the wounds clearly beneath it. Their heart pounds the walls of their ribs as though trying to break free, and all that roars in their ears is how they almost lost their eye. They aim a wild, clumsy swing at Juncopaw, not aiming but hoping it lands somewhere, anywhere, on her bristling pelt. Aggression and fear tangle in their retaliation, a strike little more than a scream to "go away!"

ooc: attacking @juncopaw
 


You're being a fool. Her internal voice hisses at her, frustrated and full of vitriol over her still clinging to the idea that she might get through to the tunneler in front of her. She was risking too much, being too forgiving. She'd end up dead in the dirt over it, with nothing but the loyalistst and moorland grasses around them all to bear witness to her folly. Yet, as she watches Bluefrost stumble up to her paws and spit blood down onto her namesake, Rattleheart finds that she can't shut her mouth just yet. "You're not. You're not the same. I know it seems like that, but it's not true. You're your own cat! Your own Windclanner! Windclan isn't Sootstar, we're more than just her cruelty. Please..." She doesn't get the chance to go on, Bluefrost's struggling form charging towards her with all the force that the clearly exhausted feline could muster. A cry left Rattleheart the moment their bodies collided, enough to shock her off of her paws even if the swipes to her chest were growing more sloppy. They still stung, blood tinging her white chest fur pink.

Even through the pain she hissed, her own gaze blazing with desperation against Bluefrost's full of fatigue. "Please don't make me kill you. Not for her." As soon as the words left her mouth she slammed up from the ground, attempting to hook her claws onto Bluefrost and roll the both of them over. That same urgency would be written clear as day on her face if she succeeded, lunging forward to try and lock her jaws around the front of Bluefrost's neck. If she were successful then her teeth would dig in enough to sting - to draw blood - and get a grip, but not enough to deliver a definitive killing blow. Not when she was still so stubbornly clinging onto the idea that the younger warrior might come to her senses.

// still engaging @BLUEFROST !!
[ PENNED BY EO ]
 

β˜€ - WHILST MY HEART STILL BEATS
Sunnyday was no stranger to battles, but a battle on open moorland was truly something new to him. This wasn't woodland and as such his usual battle tactics were void. So it brought him some relief to have gotten some practice in with Rabbitclaw, a WindClanner he had come to respect and see in a friendly light. Unfortunately during the storming of the camp he had lost sight of her, and he now found himself somewhat lost in the unfamiliar territory. The barn cat stood out like a sore thumb given his large size in comparison to the smaller WindClanners, and it meant that he couldn't hide, nor could he enter the supposed tunnels that he had been warned about.

As he struggled to gather his bearings he felt claws raking down his shoulder and it dragged him back into the reality of the situation. A snarl broke from him as he turned his furious sights to the WindClan loyalist that was bravely challenging him. Sweeping his paw across the ground he then cast a flurry of snow and grit at the eyes of his opponent before he aimed to barrel his shoulder into the other feline as a way of flattening them under his weight and strength.

//Feel free to be the loyalist he's attacking, otherwise it'll be an npc
 

One moment, the moors are silent. Dustwhisker prepares for a night of much needed sleep, the dark-furred tom moving to settle within the warmth of his unsheltered nest. He expects little from such an action, expects his night to go on like every other night from there.

The next moment, silent breaks into sharp yowls as traitors return to the land they’d run from prior, as they seek another fight. Dustwhisker jumps to his feet, claws unsheathed as Sootstar’s orders ring through his rightful home. Kill them β€” Dustwhisker’s already proven his ability to execute such a demand, a narrowed gaze pulling him forward into battle. Dusted paws push forward, only for a hulking form to stick out in his periphery. Golden fur is merely an unmoving obstacle in his path, as the smaller tunneler barrels into the unfamiliar face, dragging claws down the tom’s shoulders.

β€œ Move or die, β€œ he sneers at his chosen opponent, a threat that hardly gets out before swift reactions are made. Soil-riddled snow rains down on him, stinging at his eyes. Dustwhisker is unable to turn his head, to blink away irritants before golden fur pushes back at him. Paws stumble backwards, his form faltering under the sudden weight. He is caught by the ground below him, and a twisting movement allows for him to reach upward and aim his claws at his opponent’s stomach, in a means to rake them downward and create an escape route from beneath the tom.
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  • // attacking @Sunnyday
  • 74596970_xescKKcZgHTz9VU.png
    DUSTKIT β€£ DUSTPAW β€£ DUSTWHISKER
    ── Loyalist Tunneler of WindClan

    ── Breezecurl x Stormtalon
    ── AMAB; He/Him
    ── A black tabby/black chimera with dull yellow eyes.
    ── Mentored by Breezecurl
    ── "Speech"; Attack
 

Sootstar feels a searing pain erupt at her shoulder. It splits like a ravine down to her lower side, a deep cut that even her pounding adrenaline could not shake the pain away from. She roars as the weight of the blow sends her over and into the snow with a thump, leaf-bare's fangs bore into her flesh as droplets of her own blood coat the snow.

Traitor deputy after traitor deputy, what a fool she had been to have been convinced Sunstride would've been the last. She had intended for him to serve strong at her side until they were both old and speckled with white- or at the very least, until he was slain in battle as all WindClan cats should hope to go out. Instead he's thrown it all away, the powerful tom he could be at her side, did he dream of nine lives of his own? His nest in her den? His paws at the highest point of Tallrock? The mere prospect drives Sootstar mad, the idea that any cat could take her place... The idea that Sunstride thought himself worthy.

From where she lays on her back, she lunges a paw forward, her claws glinting in twilight's pale starlight. She aims for his neck, envisioning blood gushing from the wound she'd leave. She'd watch it pour into the snow, she'd watch the light fade out from his eyes and by the dawn she could watch crow's poke and scratch at his pelt and coyote teeth tearing past his flesh.
  • Β» Soot β€€ Sootstar
    Β» WindClan Leader
    Β» She/her β€€ Mate to Weaselclaw
    Β» Tiny blue smoke she-cat with green eyes.
    Β» "Speech" β€€ thoughts β€€ attack
  • Β» A high-stamina foe who can be difficult to hit.
    Β» Excels in quick, short moves.
    Β» Fights to kill and maim
    Β» Fatal attack of choice is an underbelly dive.
    Β» May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing
 
He has found that worthy is a terrible thing to be.

He had thought himself worthy of becoming as his father was, of leading not through merit or love, but through the strength of his convictions and charisma. Not by what he could do for another, but by his own tenacity. His heart, not his mind. Rage still sweeps across his skin from the memory β€” learning that he would not succeed his father, would not have a home to lead. At the time, the tom before him had crumbled to nothing. To cowardice. To give up their livelihoods, no, their very lives...he had forgotten the bold warrior he had once been. A bear's rage and a lion's heart, a cat so certain of himself and his ways that none could bend him. Everything that Sunnvar had hoped to be, he had in that moment surpassed.

But what remained of his father was wisdom, and sacrifice. Of his son's future, yes, but of himself. Ellisif's father as well, dying a shameful death for no reason but hope and love. To be worthy would mean that there is a measure of what one must be. No. That is what Sootstar will never understand. All that he had done before WindClan had been for himself. It should cause more pain than this, to know that coming here had made him all that his father hoped he would become. That running away truly was the best thing that could become of him, and the home he left behind. Sunstride had never met StarClan, yet he thinks, perhaps, it was they who had called him here after all.

He had not thought to meet them so soon.

Wolfsong's voice behind him is a comfort. The rage that he knows well, once more left to an enemy. Silvery claws lash towards his neck, sharp as thorns tipped with his own blood. He had not known it would come; had not expected her life to still thrum so heavily within her. His heartbeat slows with the racing of adrenaline. Thick white fur parts, and blossoms β€”

Alongside the underside of his jaw, curving from his cheek and around, Sootstar's final blow skips just past its mark as he rears desperately back. Just close enough to make him dizzy, to keep him off balance. Still reeling, Sunstride does not squeeze in another blow.
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  • OOC. fighting @SOOTSTAR (pls don't intervene <3)
  • 75520456_7ilCehUbViZ0qy8.png
    SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
    ——– HE – HIM – HIS β•±β•± 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.
    NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.

    TH β•±β•± LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.
 
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Her claws strike, but not where she wanted. As Sunstride reels back she lets out a hiss of frustration, her tail whipping as exhausted breaths turn into mist in the cold air. It is in this moment, through the layers of yowls and wails, she hears Harrierstripe.

Of all her kits he had shone the least in her eyes. Sootspot and Addervenom had always been more openly ambitious, bolder and crueler. Bluefrost, Cottonfang, Shrikethorn and Moorblossom- his sisters- more cunning and poised, even if all but one followed the path of a traitor. As blood drips from his face she feels nothing, no motherly sympathy, no maternal drive to protect him, instead she is focused on Snakehiss. The black and white deputy she had saw so much potential in turned against her, fighting for a side that was not hers.

How is it that in the end, all her deputies became immune to her twisted words and promise of power?

She searches for a pelt of white- Gooseberry. She finds him collapsed stiffly on the ground, his blue eyes lifeless and cold as blood pools around his mouth. Sootstar's breathing hitches in a panic. Harbringermoon, Hollowcreek? Either could've been suitable, yet before their pelts she finds one that reflects the pelt of an enemy. The gray that covers his fur the same hue that plasters her two traitor kits.

To think that her greatest ally in her darkest hour has been the son of a kittypet.

"Granitepelt- WindClan's next deputy is you!" She yowls, their green eyes interlocking for just a moment as he tussles with Foxglare.

Without another word she charges back for Sunstride, she's wasted too many heartbeats, it was time for this to end!

With a starting sprint she falls into the snow back-first, her momentum sliding her right in the direction of Sunstride's paws. The viper has used this move on him once before, it had failed her then, but it wouldn't now. This time she'd see that she'd slide out from under the traitor covered in his viscera.
  • named @GRANITEPELT the new deputy after Snakehiss pledged his loyalty to StarClan here. Attacking @SUNSTRIDE
  • Β» Soot β€€ Sootstar
    Β» WindClan Leader
    Β» She/her β€€ Mate to Weaselclaw
    Β» Tiny blue smoke she-cat with green eyes.
    Β» "Speech" β€€ thoughts β€€ attack
  • Β» A high-stamina foe who can be difficult to hit.
    Β» Excels in quick, short moves.
    Β» Fights to kill and maim
    Β» Fatal attack of choice is an underbelly dive.
    Β» May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing
 

β˜€ - WHILST MY HEART STILL BEATS
Sunnyday longed to laugh at the notion of him being the one getting threatened by death. He had no intention of falling that day, not here at the paws of cats who had sullied the balance of the clans. He may have darkened his own soul with selfishness and poor decisions, but today he devoted himself to helping a clan in need. Failure wasn't an option.

The hot raw pain of claws raking his stomach made him gasp and natural instinct urged him to back off, but he knew that would cost him dearly. Recalling everything that he had learned from living alongside the outcast WindClanners he knew that granting his opponent a single inch in order to slip free would cost him dearly. Ultimately he knew that he had to keep Dustwhisker pinned, one way or another.

Gritting his teeth he forced himself to endure as he aimed to slam a paw down upon the smaller feline to stun them long enough so he could swoop his head down with his jaws open. The former ThunderClanner attempted to clamp his jaws down on one of Dustwhisker's forelegs, and if successful he attempted to bite down as hard as possible. If he could rob his opponent of speed then he knew that he could gain a greater advantage in the fight.

//Battling @DUSTWHISKER
 

-ˋˏ ༻☽༺ ˎˊ- So, this was it.

Slatetooth was following Sunstride into battle once more - for the final time, though there was no telling yet which cats would make it out alive. WindClan camp seemed bleak now, empty and blood-stained. He swore he could make out indents in the ground from the last battle, in which bodies were thrown left and right. It was almost poetic how melancholy his home appeared without the rebels.

Sunstride's call for battle rings out, and all hell breaks loose. It seemed they had the high ground now, with even the moor queen herself caught unawares. Within the flurry of bodies, fur and claws, Slatetooth stands stunned-like with green eyes darting between the figures. Gravelsnap? Where's his brother? He searches, looking for the familiar blend of black and white, unfocused on his own backside.

Suddenly, he feels a heavy weight bear down on him, and darts forward like a snake, slippery and intent on only one thing: escape. Slatetooth feels claws dig into his flank and tear as he lunges away from his attacker, eventually losing their grip and leaving them to stumble forward - of course, not without long jagged gashes along his flanks. With a pained snarl, the black-furred tom spins around on his heels and prepares to retaliate, but stops himself just short of attacking.

A sore sight, Harbringermoon was, with a swollen belly that he had not noticed - or perhaps wasn't present - last time he ever found himself in the intimidating warrior's company. Slatetooth held his attack and backstepped away, missing another swipe that is thrown his way. His eyes are held on the tom's stomach, while contemplation swarms his eyes and furrows his brows. His first thought is, Why would you bring kits into his hellish place?

Another few swipes are missed from Harbringermoon, who seems slow and sluggish with the weight they now bear, until Slatetooth finally speaks, through beared teeth as he fights to ignore the sting of his fresh wounds. "Harbringermoon," he begins, a moment of recognition - a moment of grounding, though there is no patience in his opponent's eyes. "Slow your attacks, you fool! Would you truly endager your children for this nonsense?"

As he speaks, he feels his opponent's claws slice against his face - landing on his cheek just below his eye. In return, the warrior retaliates with a swipe of his own, throwing his paw against Harbringermoon's head. Though his words and actions thus far betray sympathy or mercy, he does not withhold his strength from the punch. Now that he (hopefully) had his attention, he continues speaking with a disdainful glare. "Your kits. You would sacrifice their safety, their lives, even knowing your Clanmates do not have your back?" The comment was a wild stab, something that he hoped would spark a look of recognition in the tom's eyes. Of course, he didn't know if the loyalists would fight for eachother, but there was something to be said in the fact that nobody was jumping to the pregnant tom's defense. "Look around you, Harbringermoon. Your deputy has turned. Your Clanmates are outnumbered. There is nothing left for you here after this battle."

Slatetooth had to continue his taunting. He would not bring harm to Harbringermoon - not in their state now. His goal was to stop him from bringing harm to his own kits, to drive him out if that's what it took. He was one of Sootstar's most loyal cats, sure, but.. "If I were anyone else, you would be dead where you stand. But I will not stoop so low as to bring harm to children. You have a chance to leave." It wasn't enough. "But.. I cannot say the same for the others. Any other cat, they may kill you where you stand, and your kits too." A lie as smooth as fresh snow. Slatetooth knows his rebel Clanmates - or most of them, anyway - would not kill in his position either. But what did Harbringermoon know of these 'beasts' they now fight? For once, he hoped that Sootstar's propoganda worked, to aid his own fear-spun lie. "And when you are dead, their fate is in StarClan's paws. They will not take you, knowing what you've done to your own kits. Will they take the offspring of someone so cruel? Will they know ought but a lonely void?"

Finally, hoping his words had some effect, Slatetooth lunges towards the tom, though visibly not to attack. If Harbringermoon would not stop him, he'd stop just short of his ear, hissing out one small command.

"Run."

And with that, he is on the tom's heels, nipping at them like a dog, until the two disappear over the camp's edge.


  • ooc: attacking @harbringermoon please do not intervene!
  • SLATETOOTH ✩ he/him, moor-runner of windclan, 17 moons.
    β­ƒ
    a reclusive short-haired black tom with low white and green eyes.
    β­ƒ mate to no one. son of lynxtooth x adelaide. brother to gravelsnap and ashpaw.
    β­ƒ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    β­ƒ penned by ixora ↛ @.ixora on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 
It is her moment of distraction that changes the course of their battle. His chest heaves in tired breaths, the blood-froth of war on his teeth, his tongue, spilling from his wounds β€” glacial eyes, as cool as the blue that the sun slowly reveals on the horizon, sting with hate. This moment of understanding, of revelation, soured and sharpened by her roaring to Granitepelt. The traitor to ShadowClan, stealer of another's kits, betrayer of his own. In him, Sunstride sees her. Another generation of cats bound to her cruelty. She says deputy as if there is any hope for WindClan after this. All of the pride that he had choked and swallowed, all of his heart that he had carefully bound. It bursts from him with a sickening pop! throughout his lungs, and he is a mirror image of the cat that he had once been, turned against Sootstar now.

He does not run from her blow. There is no time for it. She streaks through the snow like a comet, a halo of white surrounding venom-green.

In a flash of instinct, he lowers his fangs. For a moment, they are level. Her claws part the fur of his chest once more, and his own blow strikes true. The moor queen’s white throat splits, motion caught and held as he clenches down with creaking jaw, sinking his fangs into the beating pulse of life to take. He holds the smaller cat like prey, like a beast, and clings there regardless of her struggles, her desperation, her pleas. With one fluid motion, Sunstride throws his jaw and frees his bloodied snarl, and watches the light leave her eyes as his well-earned pound of flesh warms his tongue.
EpC61GT.png

  • OOC. this should signify the moment that the loyalists know they’re beat and begin to retreat in earnest. feel free to finish up your interactions, but the surviving duskclan cats should recognize their loss! thank you guys for making this moment so awesome.
  • 75520456_7ilCehUbViZ0qy8.png
    SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
    ——– HE – HIM – HIS β•±β•± 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.
    NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.

    TH β•±β•± LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.