camp VENGEANCE COLD BENEATH MY TEETH — invasion

[ROWANPAW]

〔✦〕Rowanpaw could not say they were thrilled to be in camp that night. A queasy tummy had been enough to deem them unfit for tonight's gathering, though they had been promised to accompany Webthorn next moon. They wonder if Sunstar would announce their name to the other clans—

"WE'RE BEING ATTACKED!"

The leader's daughter cries, immediately alerting WindClan's forces to the sudden flooding of strange cats into camp. Rowanpaw does not have time to stand there and figure out who it is. They had been on a few excursions to the borders at this point, though they could not confidently admit that they had every clan's scent recognized. It wasn't fishy like RiverClan... was this ShadowClan?

The voices of their clanmates were promptly tuned out as weight slams into their side, barreling them over. The chimera hissed, the discomfort of the tight pang in their stomach quickly replaced by the piercing of teeth in their neck. Who are you? What do you want?! Thoughts bounced around their brain and danced on the tip of their tongue, though they ultimately decided to focus on survival more than demanding answers.

The apprentice craned their neck, a form of obsidian hogging their view. They squirmed and thrashed under their opponent's weight, inexperience damning their ability to break free from his clutches. She attempted to wrench her paw between her neck and Privetpaw and, if successful, she would rake her claws down his face out of desperation.

let me walk to the top ( of the big night sky ) //

• ooc. fighting @PRIVETPAW , closed to interference except for @Mouseflight
• ROWANPAW —— apprentice of windclan , mentored by webthorn ✦ penned by beatles
  ✦ afab demigirl / they/she pronouns / 7 moons & ages every 17th
  ✦ single / graysexual & monogamous
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— easy combat difficulty / may start fights, won't kill
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are ic
  ✦ biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  
• 
  
  

  a shorthaired black/tortoiseshell chimera with heterochromia. a lithe, slightly muscular cat with a smaller-than-average build. a direct line splits their face, as if mirroring an inner battle of identity and belonging. a serious expression usually graces their face, and their amber and blue gaze is always sharpened.

​

​

 

[Mouseflight]

Few days had passed since he's being trapped in the tunnels and though Mouseflight was glad to no longer be trapped underneath the ground he wasn't the happiest about being stuck more in camp. He wanted to go out and get back to his duties in full force, face his fear of the tunnels and what they could do head-on instead of simply biding his time, but he also knew that it wasn't healthy to do that, so just as he had taken his time getting back into the swing of things after the journey the tunneler was going to take his time with this. He had been glad to stay behind from the gathering, not wanting to deal with the RiverClanners or ShadowClanners that he knew would likely start a fight over recent events, and so instead watched the group leave, getting ready to sleep until Rivewhisper's voice rang through the camp.

Large ears pricked before pinning to his head upon the sight, eyes narrowing with disgust when he saw who, exactly, it was that was attacking them. "Cowards!" He'd spit, looking for a moment for an opponent before eyes locked onto Rowanpaw, pinned down as Privetpaw grabbed hold of her neck. Moving quick he'd attempt to barrel into @PRIVETPAW , trying to knock him off of his sibling, and if successful he'd put himself between the two, facing Privetpaw as claws unsheathed ready to attack - to kill - if need-be.

⋆｡°✩ threw my voice into the dark

•  
• 
  ⋆ mousekit - mousepaw - mouseflight
  ⋆ ftm - he/him - 16 moons
  ⋆ bisexual - open to relationship
  ⋆ tunneler of windclan
  ⋆ attack - speech - thought
  ⋆ penned by tikki

​

​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

PLAY US LIKE PAWNS AND RELENTLESSLY CONFINE
INTO LIVING UP TO GENDER ROLES AND HAVING ABSENT MINDS ​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

periwinklebreeze ❀ 23 moons ❀ demi-boy ❀ windclan queen ​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Yowls echo through camp and fur puffs up, blood rushing. It's an instinct built through moons of torture and torment, of violence and bloodshed. Truthfully, Windclans camp has never been a safe place - for all they try to relax, the queen knows this fact all too well. Windclan has struck others in their own homes - and has been struck in their own near as many times. Today is one of those days.

Moonlight shines overhead, and all the queen can do for a moment is breathe a sigh of relief that he hadn't gone to the gathering. That he is here, now, that he can protect his kittens from harm. A flash of honey-gold fur sends teeth grit, and Periwinklebreeze truthfully doesn't stop to think before he moves. From the corner of his eye he catches pale moonlit fur - his sister, locked in her own battle of wills.

He only prays that she will stay safe - that Starclan is on Windclans side tonight.

Tail moves to nudge his kittens to the back - picking up Vulturekits stammering tone with a sharp twitch of his ears but saying nothing. He trusts that Rattleheart will keep them from wandering. No amount of kind words or gentle shushing will make things any easier for them - no, tonight his kittens will get their first real taste of battle. he only wishes it wasn't so soon.

He waits only long enough to make sure his breathing is even and his pawsteps are silent before making his move - limbs coiled taught for a moment before he springs upon Thriftfeather, using powerful hindlegs to push off and hoping to send the two of them sprawling. " You! Haven't y-y-you d-done enough?, " He can't help but think of all that Gravelsnap has had to suffer thanks to the tom - and that only brings up painful memories, and a fresh bout of fear for the black and white tom somewhere within the throws of battle himself. head shakes as he lurches to his paws, shoulders taught as he raises himself to his full height for once - hoping to block the path to the nursery from any further intrusion. His goal is to distract - to push the other - and all of these invaders - away from the nursery. As far away as possible.

And if his target choice is a bit... personal ━ a flash of pain in his right leg where pink scar lies, a memory resurfacing ━ well certainly, the stars won't blame him.

He's just doing this for his family.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Don't you think it's funny how they tell us how to live?​

Don't you think it's funny how we're all delinquent kids?​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
// preplanned interaction with @Thriftfeather; no interruption's until my next post please (kits are allowed to be in his vicinity though for plot purposes)

 

[GRANITEPELT]

"You should work on your stealth," the she-cat below him hisses; he can feel her legs seizing up against his stomach, and he allows the momentum to send him flying away from her. The pain is sharp, but he remains standing, "I don't need stealth; I need your blood on my claws!" He attempts to strike out at Rivewhisper with his foreclaws, attempting to swipe them across her lower jaw.

He doesn't have long before another WindClan she-cat crashes onto him from above, and he staggers, unwilling to get pinned to the ground. Her claws pierce his back like needles; he twists, attempting to shake Firefang off of him with dancing paws.

His green eyes light on a patchwork pelt standing frozen amidst the chaos of WindClan's camp. He aims a swipe Firefang's direction, toward her throat and chest, and breaks away, attempting to ignore the fire in his upper flank and belly. Blood dribbles from both wounds, but he pretends he doesn't feel the burn.

He leaps upon Scorchstreak, attempting to pin her despite the blood slipping from his body. "You'll regret betraying your true leader, scum," he snarls, aiming to bite the softness of her throat.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: injured by and attempting to injure @rivewhisper @Firefang ; left them to attack @SCORCHSTREAK ; planned interaction <3
• 
• Granitekit . Granitepaw . Granitepelt, he/him w/ masculine terms.
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — 23 moons old, ages realistically on the 10th.
  — mentored by Pitchstar and Dogfur ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored Applepaw
  — "duskclan" leader. flint x sandra, gen 2.
  — formerly mated to Starlingheart, currently mated to n/a.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh blue and white tom with dark green eyes. arrogant, stealthy, sneaky, observant, perceptive, cunning, spiteful, envious.

​

 

[Brackenpaw]

There was part of them that actually wanted to go to the gathering this time, bitter disappointment that they couldn't. Though, there are silver linings to it they guess. She could sleep for a little longer tonight and this gave them an excuse to talk to Beepaw more, not that she needed an excuse but they'd take one anyways. Her thoughts over what her friend might be getting up to is cut short by Rivewhisper's howl. Its ear shattering all consuming, compelling the young calico rises from where she was sitting in a blind panic.

It seemed like all at once these traitors had started to pour in, they were thankful enough to not be close to any of these lowlifes. Makes it easier in moments like this she supposes, they look for their mentor. As much as they'd hate to say it, there was worry that she had been attacked since it seemed that these cats had no plans on holding back tonight. Thankfully amidst the chaos she doesn't spot Bluefrost being the victim to any wayward claws or teeth just yet. Her eyes search for the pelt of her friends, there's a sense of relief that despite the panicked expression Sheeppaw was okay for now.

They watched him wearily before looking at the nursery, Frightkit would be in there and she hoped that the queens could defend her. Though they know that she would hear her if not, any plans she made would be abandoned immediately if she heard a cry out from the kit.

For once they obey a command given without a second thought, Firefang made sense. Blocking the entrance seemed like the right idea, they weren't a skilled fighter by any means. That being said theoretically she could hold her own against anyone who was either injured while being here or too panicked in their plans of escape. They eye the gorse tunnel and stand a good few metres in front of it, ready to do whatever they could if a duskclanner got too close.

---

‎‎ ‎┌── Im just a dog ⸙ with no bite ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  ooc. helping to defend/block the exit! Open to interactions (including attacks)
  
•  
• BIOGRAPHY
  ✩ they/she, tunneler apprentice of Windclan, 7 moons (ages on the 22nd)
  ⭃ a lithe and fragile looking calico that looks like they still need to grow into her ears
  ⭃ Speech, thoughts, attacking
  ⭃ NPC x NPC, mentored by Bluefrost
  ⭃ easy to befriend other kits, gradually harder to befriend every rank after that
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Juice ↛ @/ouijeejuice on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  ⭃ All opinions are IC!! Bracken is a little hater
  

​

 

[Thriftfeather]

There isn't a space Thriftfeather can look without seeing a familiar face. Bluefrost's intelligent eyes meet Thriftfeather's long enough for him to think be safe before she's moved along, or until Thriftfeather has moved along. He could never make himself small despite his efforts, but he knows how to not be a target. The white fur along his belly drags thin lines into the sand beneath him—ahead of him crouches the nursery. He doesn't know the nursery as others in WindClan might—his time spent in there was no longer than a half moon, before he was considered grown enough to be an apprentice.

In the depths of the nursery, Thriftfeather can see glints of moonlight against eyes, and the wrongness of this all strikes him as intensely as any physical blow. Still crouched, he takes a single step backwards, as if suddenly frightened by the nursery—frightened of himself. His heart rabbits, he ensures with a dry-mouthed glance that Gravelpaw is still near, and then he freezes with indecision.

And then Periwinklebreeze is upon him. Thriftfeather is on his back, paws raised protectively on instinct as Periwinklebreeze brings himself back into standing. There isn't indecision anymore—Thriftfeather realizes at once that he can't. He never could—there was never a world in which this was ever an option. Under the weight of this, his previous uncertainty feels impossibly foolish. The wrongness of this all has never stopped settling over him.

"I don't want—I don't want to fight," His voice comes out as a hush; DuskClan cannot know the depths of his cowardice, "I don't want any of this and you don't want to—" He's cut off by his own ragged breath—not panic, but the edges of it, "You don't want to fight either."

//interacting with @Periwinklebreeze. ! planned interaction <3!!!​

DUSKCLAN WARRIOR ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 16 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

➴➴ The other feline dodges their claws, and Gravelsnap snarls their frustration. They had aimed to take the other's eye, and instead they only managed to snag an ear. There is a flash of blood, but no more than that. Gravelsnap had wanted more. But something in their shoulder tugs painfully, slowing their movement—and it is their undoing. They cannot match the rogue's swiftness, and when Rumblerain strikes them again, they cannot hope to dodge it. Fangs sink into one hind leg, and Gravelsnap can do nothing but yowl their pain to the sky as they attempt to shake the other off. They bat uselessly at Rumblerain's body, hoping to land a heavy enough blow to dislodge the other. Then claws rip through their leg and soft underside, and they collapse, legs buckling beneath the weight of their body. Hot, sticky blood pours from fresh wounds, lingering along with the sting of claws raking through soft skin.

Their head hits the ground heavily and they twist onto their side, flanks heaving. Their glare finds Rumblerain once again, rage filling hazel eyes—but then they see what hovers behind the rogue, and the breath leaves their lungs all at once. The moon, once bright and full, a mark of the peaceful gathering of all five clans each month… has gone dark. Clouds blot it out, and thunder rumbles in the distance. Faintly, they hear Sheeppaw shouting over the noise that crackles in their ears—and all at once, everything comes together. Gravelsnap is going to lose. They might even be killed by this traitor, this spineless coward who'd run away to join the most cowardly rogue group ever created. Why else would they see the moon itself go dark?

"Shit," they groan, surging up in one last burst of violent energy. They aim to sink claws into the other's flank, the pain in their limbs making the strike uncoordinated. They need to end this now, before Rumblerain manages to actually kill them.

➼ maybe i’ve done enough

• ooc: fighting @RUMBLERAIN
• 
  GRAVELSNAP ❯❯ they/he, moor runner of windclan
  ⭃ average-sized black and white warrior who seems smaller than he is. speaks rarely and quietly.
  ⭃ sibling to slateheart
  ⭃ mentoring sheeppaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ⭃ penned by foxlore

​

​

 

[SUNNVAR]

They crest a swell of their ashen moorland to the scent of blood upon the wind, and a cry. And all at once, the broken pause of his stride turns into a sprint. Upon three legs he is not as swift as four, and his clanmates are sure to outpace him. There is no missing what has fallen upon their camp. A pitifully familiar scent, changed by the moons away. It is still faintly, distantly, WindClan. His heart plummets beneath his gut. From this poor vantage point he cannot see into his camp, but the dark sky above them must know what lies in wait.

Through the camp entrance, the Gathering few spew like flames from the maw of a dragon. Wild-eyed, Sunstar is not at their head but somewhere in the middle, and in the pale light afforded beneath StarClan's ire, he seems nearly the same cat that he had been the first that they drove this threat from their lands. All thoughts of the other clans are gone from his mind. None of this matters. There is only this fight before him, and the death at the end of his tale. But tonight would not be it.

Atop his deputy, fangs poised to strike, Granitepelt seems frozen in time. Was this too among the things that StarClan knew of them? He spoke of this same serpent before the stars and they gave him his chance once more. Whatever Scorchstreak may think of him, never has he betrayed her, and never will he. He presses his weight back and springs forward, the breadth of his power shoved into Granitepelt's side. The both of them go rolling. The sand and coarse grass dig into his fur alongside claws and fangs, a wild fearlessness to the strike of his limbs. There is no finesse, no desire but to damage this cat laid before him.

Even on his back, his dark eyes steal the light of the stars, and he meets Sootstar's green as he goes for the warrior's throat.

𝐈 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒 ╱ ( 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝗕𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐆 ) 〚 06.03 〛 🟒ᨒ

• ooc: fighting @GRANITEPELT, please do not intervene again!
• ↟ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑. ╱ AMAB HE - HIM - HIS. LEADER OF WINDCLAN. ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆̶̬́̀
  ———— a rogue brought to windclan in a search for greatness, one of sootstar's most loyal warriors turned into her downfall. with a mate and kits to worry about, and now nine lives from starclan with a missing limb, windclan's leader has a lot to prove.
  
  
  
  a large chocolate and white rosette tom with seaglass eyes. the first thing many see when looking at sunstar now is not his proud posture or un-windclan build, but the scarred stump that remains of his front left leg. a wound that would have killed most other cats took one of his lives; not even starclan could repair it.

• "speech"

​

 

[Firefang]

Granitepelt was slippery as expected for a snake in the shape of a cat; she cannot hold him for long and she clumsily falls to the wayside. She flips as much as she can onto her paws but doesn't quiet make and lands clumsily on her side, she seethes with anger hatred shining brightly in her flame colored eyes. She fumbles onto her paws and prepares herself to rush at him but he's faster, her muzzle curls as claws tear through fur that hasn't grown fully back and into the skin beneath. Blood begins to slowly form beads from the weeping wound, it's not deep nothing life threatening - and not something that would keep her from fighting. Nothing would even with her throat slit or her legs mangled she wouldn't bow her head in submission and accept the loss - accept the execution. She watches him leave into the crowd of hissing cats, dust has already begun to obscure the clearing kicked up by the commotion of so many moving bodies.

Damn him, she hears his voice yowling she could find him could charge at him and flay his pelt for his impudence at thinking he could flee from a fight but movement catches her eye close to the nurseries walls where the fighting isn't exempt from. Periwinklebreeze, Rattleheart and Nightinggalecry all face opponents their yowls becoming a jumble of garble in her ears but there's one unfamiliar face a single Duskclanner who slinks close to the form of Thriftfeather and Periwinklebreeze. Their pale white fur does little to disguise them. They're little more then a kit. She thinks back to how she'd been apprenticed even earlier then this Duskclanner and how normal it'd felt, how proud she'd been. She'd been smaller and had charged confidently into battles around their age.

She rushes towards @GRAVELPAW and she wonders if she has it in her to hurt a kit - to kill this kit. Yet she doesn't brandish her claws at them not yet anyway as she moves in front of them trying to block their path to Thriftfeather and the nursery. "Stupid kit, this isn't your fight. Go run on home to whatever dump you foxhearts have claimed before someone kills you" fight another day, when you're a more worthy opponent. "The kits your clan are tryin' to steal are your age. Plenty capable of tearin' your flank up if you try and grab their scruffs" and older, even without battle training did this apprentice stand a chance against them or any windclanner. Nah no way. "But if you think your hot-dung be my guest and try it. I'll beat you to a pulp like the rest of your filthy friends before you even get close to that entrance" her warning comes out through a snarled growl, and finally her claws unsheathe.

She was curious to see if this little scrap was anything like she was as a apprentice or if they were smarter.

---

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• Interacting with Gravelpaw but opened to attacks!

• "speech"

• 

  Firefang ✩ She/Her, Warrior of Windclan, 24 moons
  ⭃ Black tabby she-cat with amber eyes. former-loyalist of Sootstar, Moorunner.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Kedamono ↛ @legmeatt on discord, feel free to dm for plots.​

​

 

[GRAVELSPARK]

They follow him in to what could very well be their death, but they have no other plans but to trust him. And what is the meaning of trusting when your mentor is bowled over by a cat that snarls in his face, eyes wild and ready to kill.

Their mentor buys himself time. Their mentor is smart, cunning. Their head pounds, resisting the urge to snarl. Gravelpaw has not been caught yet, ivory pelt drenched in shadow. Stealth is their only option here. Their paws feel light and yet incredibly heavy at the same time as they dart around, pawsteps light as featherfall. Firefang stops them, finally caught red-pawed. A paw steps back. She calls her a stupid kit. Their chin tips up in mock defiance. They resist the urge to run.

They won't run. They never will. Their fate had been branded upon them the moment Mama had stepped outside of the den, leaving little Baby behind. Leaving Ebonylight to find them and take them home. Leaving them to spend their last two moons in a Clan that wholly hated everything and everyone. Two-faced. Is this the hill they're truly willing to die on? Eyes search the cat in front of them. No. I won't die. I will lay upon this hill and I won't die. "I have to try. You won't stop me." their voice is unwavering but the way their eyes don't shine display the fear that palpates in their chest. Their voice sounds all too childish now, sounds like the kit they were meant to be. They back up and zip between fighting cats, trying to lose Firefang in the chaos that erupts around them. Get away, get away, run faster.

They're terrified. They're doing it. They're brave, they're calm, they're frenzied- everything is right and everything is wrong. They zip back and dive in towards the nursery that their mentor had disappeared in to and... this place smells familiar, like milk, like their mother. They slip past the queens, to a kitten creeping towards a queen. They don't know what they're doing. They stop, coiling around like a snake. The figure is stopped by Ebonylight. They will not notice her. Hopefully, Firefang is well lost on where they are now.

What to do? What to say? Gray-blue eyes stare dully at the kit that more than likely stares back.

"Don't scream," Gravelpaw rasps, voice like their namesake in a hushed whisper- comforting was never their forte, nor was being soft; maybe being a big sister has rubbed off on them, but their heart races faster than ever before. "You'll be okay. I won't hurt you. No one will. We're gonna go super far away to a better place, and it'll be very brave of you to come with me. Don't you want to be brave? Everyone will be so proud." they whisper to the tom, tall form bending down to try to grasp on to a scruff, and if successful, trying to retreat as fast as humanly possible even if it would be a rough trip on both of them. Their words feel manipulative, it makes their mouth feel bitter. They can only hope their own kitten-fluff helps sell the point to the other kit. If they had to grow up fast... then so did he. Thats wrong. Why would you think that? You're disgusting. Cats gather everywhere, sun-torched form leaps at Granitepelt. Gravelpaw squeezes their eyes shut.

This whole thing is wrong. This is to ensure my survival. As long as they come home. As long as they leave alive.

As long as .... as long as what, exactly? All they have on their side is they're a fast runner and a short target. Please, anybody help me. Their legs shake. They need to go home.

𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙰 𝚆𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴, ˚⋆｡°✩₊🦇 𝙰𝚁𝙼𝚈 𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚁𝚂

• trying to escape from @Firefang & preplanned interaction with stealing @vulturekit. :3 as a sidenote, she is free to be battered but will be leaving alive & hopefully unmaimed
• 
  ❥ baby ,, gravelkit ,, gravelpaw
  ❥ demi-girl ,, she/they ,, 04 months
  ❥ duskclan apprentice ,, mentored by thriftfeather
  ❥ black/blue smoke chimera with high white and blue eyes
  ❥ "speech, 9d9adf" ,, thoughts
  ❥ too young to be interested in anything ,, single
  ❥ smells like heather and pine needles
  ❥ art by woodlandpest ,, penned by chuff

 

[cottonsprig]

Cottonpaw finds her legs pushing thrumming hard against the moorland ground, panic flooding her senses just as it does her gathering-mates. Perhaps it is a blessing from StarClan to be sent home early, for maybe one of the other Clans did invade their home in the depths of the night. Her skills need to be honed but tonight is not the night to mourn their lackluster existence - she just needs to work in driving out the force that has tore into their camp.

There are cats fighting by the nursery whilst others block the tunnels near camp, forbidding the invaders a quick escape. Her gaze catches on a familiar grey pelt and it's only then that Cottonpaw recognizes the crew that's come to rain fire on their home. Her mother's followers... Granitepelt's followers. She swallows thickly, thinks of how she should have let him suffer with infection - and swiftly is torn from her thoughts, bowled over by a cat she does not know.

"No- no!" Cottonpaw grits her teeth, kicking out her back legs into the stronger feline's guts. They snap their teeth towards her face, but she does her best to keep them at a distance with her forearms. It won't last long, however. She knows that with a pain in her chest. "Help! Someone - help!" she screeches, still doing her best to keep yellowed teeth away from her throat.

[ planned interaction :3 <3 ]​

 

[juncoclaw]

// this post follows up from a oneshot!


A feline departs from Horseplace in a streak of silver and black, whose paws fall against the charred grassland in rhythmic thrums. After all this time, she still knows this land like she knows the back of her paws. Only this time, she does not know it for hate, but for longing.

Junco knows she is late, by the sounds of screeching as she nears the moorland camp. A hollow surrounded by gorse, untouched by the fire, just as she remembered it. Only.. this battle is not like the one from her memories. She is not fighting for Sootstar tonight, nor the rogues that fight in what the believe to be her honor. There is an image burned into her mind, the one and only molly that could worm her way into Junco's heart.

She hears her cry, and her paws move for her. Between former enemies and young strangers alike, Junco slinks through the midst of battle - unbelonging and unsuspecting. If she had time, she would have liked to see the surprise on the face of WindClanners and DuskClanners both. But a sense of urgency drives her forward, towards a familiar grey pelt and sky blue eyes painted with fear and desperation.

With an incomprehensible yowl, something along the lines of 'Stay away,' the molly bowls straight into an unfamiliar cat who poses its teeth at Cottonpaw's throat. She would not see her homeland taken by the likes of DuskClan. Much less would she wish to see her friend perish under their paws.

She has taken the stranger by surprise, and knocked them away from Cottonpaw, but now at a standstill, she recognizes how long it's been since she's fought. Her rustiness shows in the way she fails to back away from a striking blow, once her opponent has gained their bearings. In an instant, she feels sharp claws bear across her face, across her eye - it leaves her with a burning sensation like none before, and all she can think is stars, my eye - I have lost my eye!

But whether it be adrenaline or pride, Junco carries forward. After a brief stagger back, and another blow while she is vulnerable, the molly lurches forward to meet her opponent in a strong ferocity - anything to keep Cottonpaw safe, whom she hopes is watching safely from the side without further intervention from another one of these cowards..



// planned interaction! i THINK intervention is fine now, i will make note if not, but just to clarify she is attacking a DUSKCLANNER (npc) to defend cotton, but is still known to windclan as a 'duskclanner' so. do with that what u will & enjoy the surprise cameo
​

CHARACTER INFORMATION — ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ♡ — OUT OF CHARACTER

• juncokit juncopaw JUNCOCLAW "JUNCO" ━━ penned by ixora
  ━━ BARNCAT, formerly windclan & duskclan
  ━━ 13 MOONS,, ages every 21st
  ━━ CASSO xx BUDGE
  ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
  ━━ MENTOR to none | FORMERLY MENTORED by mockinggrin
  ━━ HEALTH ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎ | junco is healthy.​
• 
• speech is #6a7d8a​

 

[Ebonylight.]

*+:｡.｡ //Trigger Warning: abuse, death, sensitive topics
Tl;dr: Nightgalecry and Ebonylight duke it out outside of the nursery, Nighty is distracted long enough for Ebby to deal the final blow <3

✧༺♥༻∞ ‡ ∞༺♥༻✧​

For a cat who's starving for battle, he understands the strength behind being picky. Although Ebonylight is by no means a small, weak cat, he also understands that he has no medicine cat to heal his scrapes, so he cannot risk a needless fight when he has one goal in mind.

Love.

It's a powerful emotion. He's felt it since the moment he'd laid eyes on his gorgeous mate dyed dull with ash eyes pale like flowers struggling to bloom. Nightgalecry's name sits comfortably on his tongue, easing the pang in his gut as he watches cats tear hungrily into their meals, giving him the strength to slip past those temptations. None of the fools were worthy of his appetite. Only one cat sat upon a throne of maggots as a prized hare, eyes wide with fear, begging for Ebonylight's fangs.

Like a shadow, he slinks past Granitepelt as he's felled by two, no, three cats. Slithering closer to the nursery, he grins as Thiftfeather's golden pelt catches the eyes of ferocious queens, finally serving his use as he distracts the felines from Duskclan's quarry. With pride, he watches his beloved pebble, Gravelpaw, take one of the kits and vanish into the fray, making a mental note to shower the child with praise - although a reprimand sits unhappily in his thoughts that she hadn't grabbed one of his kits instead of some nobody.

Then, his treasure.

Like moonlight incarnate, she stands, a boulder before him. A mountain of a woman, despite sporting a bony frame barely hidden by wraths of stringy grey hair. Look at her, so gorgeous, so perfect! They could fall in love with her a million times over...if she didn't insist on constantly failing him. "Oh, my love, you speak as though you have any right to" Without further warning, the feline lunges, aiming to swipe at his mate with all the ferocity of a betrayed spouse "What we agreed on was that you would bring them to me! Now is your time to finally truly fulfill that promise!"

An almost pleading look would enter Ebonylight's serpentine eyes, although her toothy smile would never vanish, "Nightingalecry, please, have you forgotten who your real family is? You have no loyalty to these cats, your many trips to visit me are the truth of that. Let's stop with this silly game of 'warrior' and go back to being that perfect, quiet self of yours, and let's be a proper fam-"

Claws tore through the air and for a second, they wondered if one of the queens had finally taken notice of them. But when they blinked the blinding hurt out of their eyes, pressing a paw to their torn cheek, they realized with a start whose claws their blood's paint soaked upon. Nightgalecry was a mess of heavy breaths and panicky eyes, and yet...and yet...their beautiful mate stood defiant.

"I t-told you. Leave."

When did Ebonylight's cute little hare grow claws?

Spitting scarlet from their torn lip, a cut to match the one they'd left upon her the first time she defied them, Ebonylight would raise their head to face her.
"I'm...sorry" he said, teeth bared beneath his raised scowl, "I didn't realize I've been speaking to a corpse"


He had hoped his last words to Nightingalecry would've been sweet nothings as the two grew old together. He'd dreamed they'd have died by each other's side, nestled into each other's fading warmth, promising to serve and protect each other even in the next life. In all his moons, there's been no other cat he'd loved more than his precious Nightgalecry. A meek little mouse that had poked its velvet ears out among the weeds and dirt.
But that woman, who hung on his every word and fell to pressure as easy as a flight feather torn from a wing, must have died long ago.
It would be an act of mercy to kill this thing that wore her beautiful face.

And yet, as he dug his teeth into the neck he'd once snuggled into, some part of him hesitated. What else could explain the way she overpowered him? Ebonylight let out a wail as she tore those ugly claws unbecoming of her through the inside of his cheek. Jerking backward, vulnerable from pain, was all the opening needed for her to slam down on his shoulders, knocking his head hard into the earth, pinning him in place.

She was saying something to him, but he couldn't hear, his ears rang too loud with roaring blood. Blinking hard, Ebonylight could only stare as the moonlight made Nightgalecry's fur glow silver. She shined before him, a glittering cat made entirely of stars, just like the legends spewed by the clan-born. Tears blurred Ebonylight's vision, dismay filling his soul.
His beloved...she really was dead, wasn't she?

Perhaps their love was foretold in the stars; his dream of their shared demise was a prophecy. Nightgalecry was dead, and soon, beneath her claws, he would join her into that frosted night...

"Don't hurt 'Appa! "

And then, just like that, Nightgalecry's attention shifted from Ebonylight's exposed neck to something behind her.
Ebonylight saw his chance, grasping hold of that accursed moonlight, that foolish promise, and clipping that string of fate before the noose could drop.

Ruby was a much prettier color on that ashy fur than moonlight anyway.

*+:｡.｡ Updated 4/13/24

• //pre-plotted interaction with @nightingalecry, powerplay permission granted by Rae <3 [May edit this post pending approval, though!]
• 
  
  GENERAL:
  ‡ Ebonylight
  ‡ DFAB— He/They/She — Pansexual
  ‡ 18 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
  ‡ Duskclan (Rogue)
  ‡ Mates with Nightingalecry, father to Frightkit, Deathkit and Witherkit
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ‡ Physically hard | mentally hard
  ‡ Attack in bold black
  
  injuries: None currently

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

//TW for minor SI mentions (single sentence) //

PLAY US LIKE PAWNS AND RELENTLESSLY CONFINE
INTO LIVING UP TO GENDER ROLES AND HAVING ABSENT MINDS ​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

periwinklebreeze ❀ 23 moons ❀ demi-boy ❀ windclan queen ​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

'I don't want to fight,' thriftfeather says - as though he is not the one who'd came waltzing into windclans camp, as though he is not the intruder - the invader. A wolf in sheepskin - Periwinklebreeze once liked the tom. Had thought they could be... something. friends. Brothers, perhaps. Some no-name emotion that had never gotten the chance to grow because Thriftpaws words had snuffed it right out. Perhaps, in a different world or a different life, they could've been close - like Sheeppaw. Like Dustkit and Bilberrykit and Vulturekit. But Thriftfeather was nothing to him - then, and now.

The only thing that stays his paws is the sound of Gravelsnaps words echoing in his ears. Is it their fault he turned out like this? Is it his? Could they really have convinced him otherwise... ' You don't want to fight either,' he says - and it's true, isn't it? He's never wanted to fight - never wanted the taste of blood upon his tongue, never wanted any of the nightmares that haunt him or the scars that paint his flesh. But the world hardly cares what he wants.

Still, it's enough to make him hesitate - pale blue eyes flashing in the low light.

And then he sees it.

See's her.

Watches black and silver meet in ca clash of fur and claws. Thinks that his sister will come out on top - she's strong after all, far more so then he has ever been. But she's distracted, and a moment is all it takes. " NO! " comes anguished roar - fire in his eyes, and suddenly it doesn't matter that Thriftfeather is trying to surrender.

He sees red, feels laughter bubbling up his chest - held at bay only by the fact his jaws are suddenly occupied with something else. He's a feral thing, anger writhing even as grief threatens to drag him down with it's weight - pressure building, emotions suffocating. He moves without thought, seeking only to cause harm - to kill. Thriftfeather is no longer a cat to the queen - only an obstacle. Jaws part to wrap around golden neck - fangs catch on fur, falling far lighter then he means them to.

With his blow, he aims to kill.

In truth, he wishes him dead. In truth, he wishes himself dead.

Starclan could've taken anyone - everyone. Anyone but her, and he wouldn't have cared.

(He would, he'd care a lot. Periwinklebreeze cares far too much)

Head tosses as he tries to shake the younger tom - hisses and growls spewing forth without thought and hot tears streaming down his muzzle. Periwinklebreeze is all but lost to his emotions - too far gone to see smaller figure slipping by. Too far gone to hear the sound of his sons cries over the ringing in his ears.

It doesn't last long, of course, but it certainly feels like an eternity before he feels his opponent tear themselves away. He doesn't fight it, all but heaving now. He feels tired - sick. Already, he just wants this starforsaken night to be over - wants to be back in his nest, curled up around his kits. But life is never so kind, battles never so easy. " G-g-get out of m-my sight, " he spits - and with it comes blood.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Don't you think it's funny how they tell us how to live?​

Don't you think it's funny how we're all delinquent kids?​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
// attempted (and failed) to kill @Thriftfeather in grief filled rage <3 - powerplay perms given. now open to interaction

 

[Thriftfeather]

A foolish hope rises in Thriftfeather that Periwinklebreeze may listen to him. He sees Periwinklebreeze pause—limned by the silvery nightlight, Thriftfeather sees him think. It's relief for only a few moments. Thriftfeather moves only in subtle ways. All he needs to do is stand slowly enough as to not be taken for a threat. All he needs to do is get Gravelpaw. All he needs to do is retreat—he can deal with the potential consequence later.

The opportunity never comes. Periwinklebreeze shouts. Thriftfeather doesn't see why.

Instead, Thriftfeather gasps uselessly. For a horrible moment he does not understand what is happening; he should be able to breathe. He has always been able to breathe, even when it hadn't come easily to him. Now: his paws scramble in the air as if he is attempting to run and his mouth gapes. Now: pain, in his chest, in his throat. This is panic: the realization that he is being choked, and that it is Periwinklebreeze who is choking him. He recalls that nameless rogue, he recalls his mother, he recalls Ghostwail—had they all felt this same helplessness?

Don't, he tries to say, and finds himself incapable of even that small word.

Don't kill me, or don't let me die. Begged in thought to Periwinklebreeze or to the surrounding world—Thriftfeather doesn't want to die.

There is black in his vision—how long has it been? A span of heartbeats that feels like an eternity; Thriftfeather has never before been starved in such a way. His mind struggles to settle on a final thought: Don't kill me, don't kill me, or this will be my death, or this cannot be my death.

He spasms, or he wrenches, and he holds to that thought. This cannot be his end—he wrenches once more with a renewed purpose and miraculously, he gasps. Immediately after, he's coughing with force enough to keep him on his flank. The pain intensifies—for a terrible moment Thriftfeather thinks that it doesn't matter that Periwinklebreeze has let him go. He gasps between fits until, at last, the coughs subside into sporadic. The spittle that coats his chin digs thin lines into his fur.

There isn't time to catch himself. Thriftfeather doesn't know if Periwinklebreeze's mercy will hold. He doesn't know what ended it in the first place. Thriftfeather rolls gracelessly and then rights himself on staggering paws. His vision comes and goes in dizzying blots. When he steps, it is with the same wavering certainty of a fawn. His paws carry him dutifully, despite his trembling, until at once his strides turn ground eating. He doesn't need to see to know the direction to run out of camp and that—and the knowledge that this is lost to him—aches him with the same intensity as the wound.

//out!​

DUSKCLAN WARRIOR ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 16 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[THORNRUNNER]

The world around him has gone to nothingness, and wild-eyed, harelike, Thornrunner's only thought is to run. He will not go empty, he will not go empty– the only thought on his mind, in repeat.

When he had been a WindClanner, the tom avoided the nursery. It is a place of nothingness, weak paws and snapping queens. Tonight he is a dog, a hawk. They are weak prey and he needs to eat. He pays no mind to the entryway. His claws dig into the thick gorse bush, tearing his way through until the fighting starts to bleed away. They have a large safety net, WindClan. Warriors-to-be. Had Granitepelt known the full extent of this? This would be a boon to their Clan. He thinks briefly of a world where they succeed. These cats cleansed from the moors, these kittens raised right. DuskClan in its rightful place. If only Sootstar had been with them for it.

This future plays in triumphant blue eyes as his wild face finally makes its way into the nursery. There are many cats here. Some smell familiar, some of ash and some of death. A fresh wave of bloodscent washes over him, but none of that matters. If he is to run it will not be alone, and just before him at the edge of this torn entrance, there are kittens. Rattleheart had done well tucking them away, far from the dark entrance. There are still familiar faces further in. HIs bursting through the final measure was sure to attract attention. Thornrunner will not linger here long. He goes blindly for the litter before him, a nearly-playful hushing upon his tongue as his teeth close down on @THISTLEKIT's scruff.

——ˏ͛ °•*⁀➷ 𝑨𝑳𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝒀 𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑫  ╱╱ 10.30.2023 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑺𝑶𝑶𝑵 𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑮𝑶𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑵

• OOC. I FORGOT TO ADD PLS DONT ATTACK HIM B4 RATTLE
• THORNRUNNER. HE - HIM - HIS. YOUNG MOOR RUNNER OF WINDCLAN. SOOTSTAR LOYALIST. PENNED BY REVELATIONS. ——————————————
  —— a densely-furred yet sleek chocolate tabby with high white and several scars hidden within his fur. he carries himself with cocky confidence and a sharp cunning in icy blue eyes.
• "speech"

​

 

[honeysucklepaw]

The quiet is disturbed after the parade of WindClanners leave for the Gathering... Scorchstreak and Bluefrost remain left behind, much to Honeysucklekit's comfort and joy. It feels... safer... to know they're here... That they do not dare abandon them to the chilly night air to frolic under StarClan's light without her. With that security in mind, she nestles close to the shaded fur of her mother, pressed against the void that rumbles in quiet warmth as if it might consume her once more. But pale spring eyes do not find rest for long before the wild-willed shrieks of enemies unknown tear through her ears.

With fur stood on end in confusion and alarm, she isn't sure what to make of it at first. A drill, perhaps? A lesson in preparedness? She wouldn't dare be caught unawares then, would do her utmost to leave a good impression upon her deputy and kin. Anything to see pride reflected in those shrewd eyes.... a taste of acknowledgement that was not Mintshade's scathing tongue. Her mother loved her, she knew that... but it felt so hollow compared to the swell of affection her den-mates got instead.

Unawares and unwilling to shy from destiny, she is content to march towards the chaos with kitten-sharp claws unsheathed as a reflection of her willingness to enact the divine path set down in front of her. She'd make that grinning midnight lady dote upon her favorably again, see to it that WindClan was not led astray, just as instructed.

The reek of copper is unfamiliar and unsettling, giving the small black she-kit pause- did they really practice in a way that drew blood? Before she can piece together the true weight of their circumstances, Nightningalecry warbles a defensive caterwaul that demands the leave of an unfamiliar face. So... these were not friends... this was no good natured lesson....

"What are they do-" The question dies in her throat, heart sent fluttering in wild panic the moment the dark-furred queen collapses and stills too quickly behind the gnashing of fangs and claws that belonged to someone she once loved. Was love a poison then...? Something that would only weaken you and expose the softness of your underbelly? It gnawed at your insides until you were too frail to fight back? Perhaps then, that was why mother refused to cater to whatever father Honeysucklekit had. She knew better... knew the risks...

She wouldn't forget.

In visions of hissing, bristling pelts she watches as her den-mates are plucked from the safety of the nursery like they are nothing more than prey- "H-Hey!! Stop!" A voice too shrill to bear any threat, to have any weight to really scare them into submitting to her will. Frustration broils in tandem with rising fear, becoming increasingly aware of Brokenkit's distance from her- how far she has wandered from Mintshade's side. The tangy smell of Nightningalecry's forced silence...

-- open to interaction, just kinda yellin and shoutin in a panic

mother tell me 𓇢𓆸 will you stay?

• 'what do we do but wail helplessly in a sanctuary violated by bloodshed...'
• HONEYSUCKLEKIT
  - child of wind-swept moors
  - she/her
  - daughter to mintshade and gracklestep
  
  - a solid pitch she-cat with fern-green eyes

 

[RATTLEHEART]

AS HE RAISED HIS FIST BEFORE HE SPOKE — The roar of battle filled camp, a caterwaul of fury and death that left Rattleheart's fur standing on end. She could hear bodies clashing together just outside the nursery, Windclan warriors fighting to protect their most vulnerable clanmates. The wisp of a familiar scent from nearby caused her heart to sink, pale gaze staring outside as she breathed. "Rumblerain...?" She had known her nibling fought alongside them, yet somehow the reality of the situation was far more difficult for the queen to accept. The reality of their scent mingling with Gravelsnap's, their intentions suddenly crystal clear enough to send her claws digging down into the floor of the nursery. The tunneler would've rushed out and spilled their blood herself, if not for the kits cowering down behind her.

Her attention was snapped away from her nibling by Downypaw's arrival, Rattleheart looking towards her apprentice with eyes gleaming with apprehension. It wasn't as if they were defenseless - she never would've left them without battle training, and for all of Sootspot's flaws, surely he wouldn't have either. Yet still, this felt like too much. Too much for an apprentice that had already been through so much, their pleading, frantic breaths as a clear sign of their own worries. She was quick to try and soothe them, head briefly pressing to their shoulder as battling bodies continued to thrash about around the both of them. "Thank you, Downypaw. Just remember what I've taught you... what Sootspot taught you, too." Their presence was at least a comfort, especially when she heard the hushed growl of Nightingalecry nearby.

After that, things moved too fast for her to intervene. She had hardly twisted around before Nightingalecry and Ebonylight were clashing in the throes of battle. A shout left her then, taking one step towards the abruptly limp form of her fellow queen. "Nightingalecry!" Her teeth were bared then, claws ready to lash out and strike at Ebonylight's form. Finish the job that Nightingalecry had failed to, even if it wouldn't bring her back to them. Back to Periwinklebreeze, after all he had already lost.

But then, a quiet wail.

The voice of one of her own kits, still so small and heartbreakingly defenseless on their own. Thornrunner's teeth were clamped down on Thistlekit's scruff, and suddenly Ebonylight was gone from her vision. The warm weight of Downypaw at her side had vanished, disappearing as she threw herself forward without a second thought. "Get away from my children!" Rattleheart didn't give him a chance to think before she was flying at him, her paws aiming to collide with Thornrunner and shove him to the ground. The snarl that left her then was uncharacteristically vicious, the lead warrior driven by rage and bloodlust over Duskclan even attempting to lay a paw upon her little ones. If she managed to topple Thornrunner over, she would lunge towards his stomach, claws and teeth scrabbling to grab and tear at wherever they could reach.

No longer did she care to stop once the taste of blood coated her tongue, resolving only to back away when the tom beneath her stopped moving.

THE RIGHTEOUS HAND OF GOD 𓆩♡𓆪 THE DEVIL THAT YOU FORGOT

• // planned attack on @THORNRUNNER please no intervening !!

• 

• 
  ❥ longhaired black and white tom with pale green eyes
  ❥ 52 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ❥ afab; uses he/she/they pronouns
  ❥ homosexual homoromantic; mated to venomstrike
  ❥ sibling to scorchstreak, lizardbounce, and rabbitclaw
  ❥ currently mentoring downypaw
  ❥ somewhat difficult to befriend; wary but kind
  ❥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ❥ all opinions are ic

​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

Sunstar's attack takes him whirling away from Scorchstreak; his jaws clamp shut, teeth clicking painfully together against his tongue. The WindClan leader is still the stronger of the two, and his pelt is thick enough to deter the feeble blows Granitepelt aims at his flank. Blue eyes sear him with rage, and the amber warrior's fangs approach his throat. No, I don't go out. Not like this. Not here.

Granitepelt pins his arms to his side and slinks just a few mouselengths below Sunstar's reaching jaws; the leader's throat is exposed to him. With a snarl, he claps his teeth around the softest part of his flesh and pulls. Blood erupts, staining his white chest fur scarlet, darker, pitch. The taste in his mouth is terrible, acidic, but even still it is tinged sweet with victory.

"DuskClan," he shouts, shoving a dull-eyed, limp Sunstar away from him so that he hurtles into the dust, "retreat! Take what you can!" His pelt is reddened, the slashes it bears from Firefang and Rivewhisper stinging with the wind, but he's energized now with the taste of WindClan blood in his mouth.

He twists, and runs for the camp's exit. It had previously been guarded by a small gray she-cat, but he catches her stumbling over her own paws, running toward Thriftfeather, then for Sunstar.

He does not check to see who follows him.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: powerplaying permission granted ;) granitepelt OUT but feel free to give him a scratch or two as he runs!
• 
• Granitekit . Granitepaw . Granitepelt, he/him w/ masculine terms.
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — 23 moons old, ages realistically on the 10th.
  — mentored by Pitchstar and Dogfur ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored Applepaw
  — "duskclan" leader. flint x sandra, gen 2.
  — formerly mated to Starlingheart, currently mated to n/a.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh blue and white tom with dark green eyes. arrogant, stealthy, sneaky, observant, perceptive, cunning, spiteful, envious.

​

 

[Firefang]

She showed them mercy, she regrets it now. Firefang should've marked them with the brutality of war, she wouldn't have killed them would be too easy, and she doesn't need a kits death on her conscious but that didn't mean beating them within a inch of it was off the table. Fury bristles her pelt as she stares down at them and their stare one not filled with the impudence of their words. They know they have a death wish she's lunging forward jaws snapping but the kitten is zooming off just as she moves weaving through the tumbling bodies of cats near the nursery spitting with fury, the scent of blood is so heavy in the air. So much happens in the span of five seconds, she's running after them desperately trying to push through to grab the stupid little whelp by the scruff but yowls of pain, horror and shock make her ears ring.

Periwinklebreeze's anguish, Rattlehearts vicious protection and then rising above it all the call to retreat that makes her blood run cold. Her head whips around and finally she sees where he is between Scorchstreak and Sunstar who flops unnaturally to the ground blood gushing from his neck into a river that marked their loss. There would be no victory here, she glances only briefly back to the nursery seeing much of the same - she should be seeing the pale form of the one she'd been pursuing but all she sees is red. She's rushing forward, her paws kicking up earth as she bolts towards the entrance to try and cut them off - to get to him because if he died today they may be rid of this blight - she will be rid of the blight on her conscious. If only her clan had held up the defense of the entrance then these beasts would be ripe for slaughter for what they'd done, Sunstar wouldn't be here for a brief blip in time to be able to stop it. She forces herself to go faster even as the muscles in her body burn and threaten to pull dangerously.

"I'LL FLAY YOUR ENTIRE PELT OFF SO YOUR CHILDREN WON'T RECOGNIZE YOUR BODY!" she yowls at him as she gains speed at his retreating form, him and his band of unwanteds and nobodies are already past the heather and gorse tunnel but she doesn't give up. "You'll regret messin' with Windclan one day! You'll regret ever bein' born!" She pools her strength into a pounce claws reaching out in a vain last attack she pounces for Granitepelt she'd never make the distance to tackle him to the ground but her claws would still reach out and attempt to grasp both hindlegs to hold and tear into for a brief moment if they'd managed to land on him his momentum would allow for them to slice raggedly across as he ran out of her reach rather she'd done any damage or not she'd clumsily roll in the dirt with nothing to break her fall. If it weren't for the adrenaline she'd have had to lay there to catch her breath but she doesn't allow herself the luxury and rolls back up and forces herself to run again. Ignoring the pain that courses through her body and the way her leg protests with every step.

---

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• Tried a last ditch attack on @GRANITEPELT while fleeing, chasing after Duskclanners as they retreat

• "speech"

• 

  Firefang ✩ She/Her, Warrior of Windclan, 24 moons
  ⭃ Black tabby she-cat with amber eyes. former-loyalist of Sootstar, Moorunner.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Kedamono ↛ @legmeatt on discord, feel free to dm for plots.​

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