sensitive topics ALL OF MY DIRECTS ♡ INVASION?



Pain ripped from through his back, ribbons of fur split and skin being sliced through thick smokey fur. One blue eye glared, catching the suddenly faultering grin of the apprentice. If it wasn't for catching the grin of what he could only assume as confidence, and feeling the adrenaline rushing through his bloodstream like a lizard fleeing, maybe he wouldnt have been so mad.

He turned on the other apprentice quickly. Steps forward matching steps backwards, heat deep in his gaze of anger never spilled from him before. Searing pain ripped through his shoulders, but he was too mad to take note of it.

"I TOLD YOU TO RUN!" He snarled, a large paw striking forward at the other, but not connecting. Each step forward was another attempt at a slash. Each steps of hers backwards screaming to him at least of her cowardice and fear. "I gave you MERCY, and you wanted to strike my back!" Another strike, whiskers away from the thunderclanners nose.

"You think you're tough?" Talonpaw spat, striking again, each sentence followed by a strike, harder, faster. "You think you're special?" Maybe it became predictable in his anger. For each strike she seemed to dodge and weave around his paws- just barely. But now, now it was time for revenge.

Without a word, with a seething breath that exhaled fog in the cold morning, he used something different than a strike, coming from above to slam an unsheathed paw towards her face downwards, claws hoping to rip into the flesh of her skull, and down the side of her face.

Feeling the heat of the battle fade, and Roeflames words echoing in his ears, he gritted his teeth again at the pile before him. "No one is special. Get off our territory. This is your final warning- Thunderclanner."

 
*+:。.。 As quickly as it all began, it was over.

His claws scored nothing, his tackle only sending the two rolling, locked together - no, not together, for that would imply Wildheart was just as trapped as he was. Singeglare realized his mistake almost immediately, mind flashing back to a time when he'd been in close-quarters quarrel with someone larger, older, more experienced with death and struggle. Too late, Singeglare realized he'd fucked up again.

He realizes this just in time to swing his head back, but it saves him only from biting his tongue off as Wildheart's mallet of a cranium clips his chin, sending blinding white sparks through his vision. A storm comes to light behind his eyes, all lightning and fire as he's forcibly slammed to the ground, hitting his skull with a resounding tHUNK. At least he didn't squeal like in his kittenhood. Instead, the younger warrior snarls and spits, squinting through the growing migraine and ignoring the way his teeth rattle in his mouth, still buzzing from pain.

"At least - we're not - murderers!" Singleglare spits, hoping to muddy up the man's coat with his blood and salvia. It's a lame way to distract someone, but this whole mess is a way lamer way to lose.
Lose, not die.

The scent of it fills the air as he claws and kicks wherever his spindly legs can reach, falling still only when he realizes the smell isn't from distant memories. Despite being in a fight, Singeglare cranes his neck, a stab of fear igniting in his chest. Suddenly, four faces come to mind, and unless he sees them all, alive and well, through the cacophony of blood and malice, he isn't keen on breathing a full breath anytime soon.

But he's trapped. His arrogance leaves him stuck between a dead man's earth and slavering claws. Humiliation, frustration, and fear make for a blinding concoction, but he refuses to cry for mercy. Instead, wriggling fiercely beneath the man's claws, he roars, "You did it again, didn't you!? Murderers! You kill one another, you kill innocents, and now you've taken yet another opportunity to take a life! ]" boiling blue eyes flash with hatred, "if Shadowclan are vermin, your lot is made up of beasts"

@WILDHEART

  • DEF: 16 || ATTACK: 3


  • "SPEECH"
    GENERAL:
    Singeglare
    Cismale — He/him — Heterosexual
    12 moons — Ages 1 moon every month on the 2nd
    NPC x Duckshimmer (brother to Swallowflutter, Sneezeduck)
    Shadowclan — warrior


    COMBAT:
    Physically medium | mentally somewhat easy
    Attack inbold #b8312f
    injuries: none



 
Last edited:
*+:。.。 Bugpaw can feel the cold through her thick fur. She presses against Littlepaw, inexplicably protective of her fellow apprentice as the two hover behind Falconheart. She watches closely as Mirestar speaks to Leafhusk, sounding so calm and confident...She sympathizes immediately with the chocolate leader's fear of the unknown future, and their determination to keep their clan fed. But finds herself startled by their ultimate declaration. Can they not hear the rumbling tummies of the rest of the forest? Do they think theirs to be the loudest? Bugpaw's ears snap flat against her head.
Falconheart's change from a protective, sweet older brother to a lion with a malicious laugh and slavering jaws leaves Bugpaw's fur sticking up in bristles. She watches, wide-eyed, as he brother spits at Mirestar's offer, before training her eyes back on the shadowclan leader. C...can't they share the strip of land? Can't they work together instead of -

Chaos breaks out. What was supposed to be a single shadowclanner explodes into an army! Bugpaw hisses and spits, but before she knows it, she's lost track of Littlepaw and Falconheart. She isn't sure if she should stick by them. If she should fight for her clan. Why now? Why now, why now!? The question spins endlessly, lost in a maelstrom without an answer to anchor it. After everything they've been through, could they not be allowed a moment's peace?

She didn't want to hurt anyone.
She didn't want to lose anyone.

And yet, when she looked through the crowd and locked eyes with an unfamiliar face, her heart sank too low to pick it back up. This stranger...looks so scared. "W-we don't have to-" she begins, a nervous smile dancing on her maw -

Only to reel back in agony as the tender flesh of her nose bursts into flame beneath quick silver claws. She lashes out immediately, aiming wild and blind. Pressing a paw to her running nose, she jumps back herself, staring - almost hurt - at the stranger. "Why?" she whimpers, heart, hammering against her throat, voice thick, "We need prey too, we have kittens to feed, why can't we just work together?" She isn't sure if these questions are meant for the apprentice before her, or Starclan themselves.
She wonders what Flycatcher would do.

Brushing away the blood, Bugpaw, unable to find the will to want any of this, aims a half-hearted strike at Lavenderpaw, intending mostly to scare them off. She doesn't want to fight. She especially doesn't want to fight someone with eyes so big and scared.

@LAVENDERPAW

  • Rolled [3] for DEF, [6] ATTACK,


  • GENERAL:
    Bugpaw
    DFAB— She/Her
    Daughter to Flamewhisker and Flycatcher
    Sibling to Falconheart, Stormfeather, Lilykit, Butterflykit, Scorchedpaw, Squirrelpaw, Sunpaw
    Thunderclan — apprentice
    Apprenticed to Falconheart


    COMBAT:
    Physically easy | mentally easy
    Attack in bold pink
    injuries: None currently
[/u]​
 
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· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ───────────── · ·

*cw; eye injury, descriptions of gore

He turns like a badger that has just found its den intruded upon- snappish, sluggish almost as if surprised she'd had the audacity to continue the fight. Her vision grows narrow, his entire face takes up her focus- when he had gotten so close? A paw flashes out towards her and the tortoiseshell narrowly stumbles out of the way, trying to keep to her toes so she could spring away from another barrage. Each swipe is a declaration, a promise. An intent to make her pay. She ducks out of the way as he asks if she's special- "What are you even-" She lets out a startled exhale, peeling away from a set of claws that graze her whiskers, "Talking about?" What did being special have to do with never turning your back on an enemy?

Maybe he was the stupid one and if she just held out, kept her wits about her- He changes tactics. Her paws are already in motion to dip away in a direction that will not save her. She'd grown too comfortable, found herself on auto pilot. Backing up and backing up and never once picking a moment to stand up and retaliate. That weak confidence would serve as a painful lesson.

*Scarlet blossoms in an eager display of vibrancy where sharpened chisels carve through weak limestone. The shape of her cheek, the bow of her brow... Nauseously, she becomes aware of just how soft the flesh of her eyes are... how easily they go sliced through, giving not a moment of resistance. The world grows drenched in a filter of red... the depth of her vision grows flatter and suddenly everything feels suffocating- her throat feels raw-

When had she started screaming?

Her paws move at a snail's pace yet quick at lightning to clutch at her eye, feeling the sticky warmth of her own blood pooling between her pads, dripping between her toes- The lecture he wants to give is near impossible to hear over the roar of her own panic. How could she be a warrior if she couldn't even stand a single fight? Her neck aches in memory of Beetlepaw, her tongue stings where her teeth had scarred it. "This if your final warning..."

She swallows thickly, making out the shade of his paws on the ground in front of her- they're so ruddy... stained with a piece of her she'd never get back. Numbly... cowardly... Mottledpaw realizes she doesn't want to die. She doesn't want to be a warrior yet... not if the cost is her life. She searches for the figures of fleeing clan-mates, not even giving Talonpaw any acknowledgement for his tiny mercy before hurriedly trying to follow her clan back into the brush... tripping over roots she hadn't once been so clumsy navigating over.

// mottled out!!!​
 
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Reactions: Deidre
shadowclan had always held resentment close to their heart. it's the way of the shadows, they think, to hold grudges and wait for opportunity to arise to attack. this always came with the cost of life. no battle ever was won without loss. it was why chilledstar tried as hard as they could as leader to prevent it. the good did not outweigh the possibility of loss. it never did. not even now when shadowclan needed the territory from thunderclan. they don't think they ever would have done that. they liked howlingstar enough to leave her be. windclan? yes. given more time, they'd easily had taken some of their territory. easily. but nothing comes without loss. they may win in the end, but is it worth it? chilledstar is glad they don't have to make such decisions anymore. mirestar would have to deal with the backlash of it all, of allowing for this to happen.

"a strong end, but not the end I would have liked to see."

to die in battle is honorable to them. but... is there truly honor in war? of course there isn't. there isn't honor in taking lives, nor is there honor in losing it. but this was not for chilledstar to decide. no. they were simply here to take a friend home. another one. shadowclan truly has lost a good warrior, but starclan has gained another.

"it's time to go, needledrift. I had this... dreadful feeling when you stepped onto the battlefield. I'm sorry you have to come with me like this, but at least the physical pain can stop. emotional... I'm still working on that."

the star pelted cat leans against needledrift, offering a small smile. it's been a long time since they've worn one that's been genuine.

"come on. you can't stay here anymore."

// retrieving @Needledrift

———————---***i try to live in black and white***———————---

  •  
  • black feline with a white marking across their face, a white chin, a white right front paw, and a blue single eye. chilledstar is covered in scars, the most prominent ones being the one across their face, one across their missing eye and the one across their neck.
    48 moons old; no longer ages
    they / them pronouns
    aromantic / homosexual ; not looking
    child of JAGGED and RAVEN
    starclan / formerly shadowclan ; loyal to shadowclan ; other info if applicable
    mildly difficult to befriend ; trusts barely anyone; trusts no one outside of shadowclan
    "speech", thoughts, attacking
    peaceful powerplay allowed
 
Plumpaw barely has time to register the rush of paws and the blur of red before the weight of Dwindlingpaw slams into them, knocking the air from their lungs. The ground is unforgiving as they land, and before they can scramble to their feet, Dwindlingpaw's claws dig into their shoulders, pinning them firmly in place. Plumpaw grits their teeth, a growl rising low in their throat as they twist and buck beneath the other apprentice, but it's no use. Dwindlingpaw has them pinned too tightly.

Their eyes blaze with frustration and determination, refusing to let fear show. "Get off me!" Plumpaw snarls, the sharpness of their voice cutting through the chaos of the battle around them. They kick out with their hind leg, aiming for Dwindlingpaw's stomach, desperate to make them flinch or lose their grip. The effort sends a jolt of pain up their sides, but they bite it back, focusing only on finding a way out. As Dwindlingpaw's words spill forth, Plumpaw narrows their eyes, a spark of defiance flashing despite the crushing weight on their chest. "You're one to talk," they spit back, their voice strained but fierce. Their leg kicks out again, more wildly this time, desperate for an opening. Plumpaw's mind races. They won't let themselves be beaten—not like this, not pinned and helpless.

[ fighting @Dwindlingpaw , please dont interfere! ]​
 
Howlpaw's blood hums with the thrill of the fight, its focus narrowed on Lividsmoke as if nothing else in the world exists. The sting of claws grazing its ankle jolts through its leg, but it ignores the pain, barreling forward with unrelenting determination. Lividsmoke's experience, the calculated way the warrior moves, doesn't deter it—instead, it fuels the fire burning in its chest. This fight isn't just about survival; it's a challenge, a test, a chance to prove to itself that it's stronger than its past, stronger than its fears. When Lividsmoke dodges to the side again, Howlpaw pivots sharply, its claws swiping in an arc toward the warrior's flank. The attack is fast but reckless, its lack of precision betraying its inexperience. It feels the faintest resistance as its claws connect with fur, but there's no time to savor the hit. Lividsmoke retaliates with startling speed, mud flung toward its face.

Howlpaw jerks its head to the side, but some of the muck catches its eyes, blurring its vision. Anger flares in its chest like a struck match. It blinks furiously, snarling, and lunges blindly toward where it last saw the warrior, claws extended. Its swipe cuts through empty air, but it keeps moving, unwilling to let its opponent get the upper paw. It feels the sharp pain of claws raking across its face and stumbles back with a hiss, blood beginning to bead where the strike landed. The sting sharpens its resolve, and for a moment, its mask of stoic determination cracks, frustration bubbling to the surface. It doesn't want to show weakness, not now, not ever. The warrior's movements are precise, methodical, and it hates how easily Lividsmoke seems to read its attacks. But it pushes the emotions aside; there's no room for distraction.

The bite at its ankle nearly sends it tumbling, pain flashing white-hot, but it grits its teeth and surges upward, swiping fiercely toward Lividsmoke's exposed muzzle. It refuses to slow down, even as its limbs ache, even as its breath comes in ragged bursts.Despite the pain in its ankle, despite the drops of blood it has to blink out of its eyes, it darts forward suddenly, feinting left before twisting right, aiming to slam its shoulder into Lividsmoke's side to knock the warrior off balance. It knows its size is to its advantage, and it hopes the maneuver might catch Lividsmoke off guard and knock her to the ground. Whether it succeeds or fails, it would then lunge closer to try to sink its teeth into the warrior's throat, or wherever else it can reach.

[ fighting @LIVIDSMOKE and tagging @tigerwing so she can jump in whenever :) ]​
 
Tallstep doesn't see her coming.

The chaos of the battlefield is overwhelming: snarls and screeches, the tang of blood in the air, the world reduced to a maelstrom of noise and motion. Their heart pounds like a war drum, echoing the urgency to keep moving, keep fighting, keep breathing. They duck and weave, their smaller frame more suited to evasion than outright force. Every heartbeat counts; every strike could mean life or death. And yet, they're too slow this time. Scalejaw is a blur of motion—a predator born for this chaos. Before Tallstep can fully react, the ShadowClan warrior's weight slams into them, knocking them off balance. The force of the impact steals the air from their lungs, and they hit the ground hard. The world spins, dirt and pine needles pressing against their fur.

The words reach them before the pain does: "Only cowards turn their back. ThunderClan has fallen so far." The insult cuts deep. Tallstep tries to push back, to throw her off, but she's stronger, heavier, relentless. Their legs flail, claws scrabbling at her, but it's not enough. The sharp, searing agony comes all at once as Scalejaw's claws tear into them, raking down their side and stomach. The pain is a wildfire, radiating through their body, threatening to consume them whole. They cry out despite themselves, a strangled sound of pain and desperation. The scent of blood—their blood—fills the air. They're dimly aware of it pooling beneath them, soaking into the earth, warm and unforgiving. Their limbs grow weaker with every heartbeat, every pulse feeling like it's dragging their strength away.

This can't be the end. It can't.

But the weight of Scalejaw's body keeps them pinned, and they struggle to focus, their vision darkening at the edges. Their mind clings to fleeting images: their mentor's proud smile when they earned their warrior name, the way sunlight filters through the ThunderClan camp's canopy, the laughter of their clanmates. With a shaky breath, they twist, weakly clawing at Scalejaw's side—not enough to wound, but enough to force her to shift her weight if they succeed. Enough to give someone else an opening. Please, they think, though they don't know if it's a plea to StarClan or their clanmates or themself. The battle rages on around them, but for Tallstep, the world narrows to survival. Every shallow breath feels stolen, every heartbeat borrowed. They won't give up, not yet—but as the darkness creeps closer, they wonder if it'll be enough.

[ engaged with @scalejaw but feel free to help him so he doesn't die <3 ]​
 
Ivorypaw is breathless; her flanks heave with the effort her lungs exert, and she feels blood oozing from places in her pelt. She wants to give up, wants to turn tail, and is almost relieved when Sneezeduck seems to pause his assault. The tabby stiffens, his amber gaze focused on another pair of brawling cats. Ivorypaw swivels her face around, focusing on whatever he's looking at — and she goes as stiff as she does when she sees. Roeflame has pummeled a gray warrior with a twisted jaw to the frosted earth, and she is still, blood trickling from her wounds. Dead, Ivorypaw thinks with shock. She's dead!

Roeflame seems unfazed, but Sneezeduck, in his fury, shrieks this warrior's name. This will be Ivorypaw's first and last time hearing it, she thinks with dull surprise. "NEEDLEDRIFT!" And he begins to spring away from her. Toward Roeflame! She does, she thinks, what a warrior would do, what Palefire would do — she leaps for Sneezeduck one last time, in an effort to slow him down.

The tabby rears on her, rage replacing the battle fire in his gaze. "MOVE!" And then, claws are ripping toward her face. Her eyes close just in time, an instinctual flinch, and she feels his nails tearing brands of fire into her eye. She shrieks, unable to contain her pain, her shock. Mercifully, Sneezeduck is preoccupied with Roeflame, now, and Ivorypaw is left to stumble away without pursuit.

She extends a white paw to that eye, and is horrified when it comes away completely red. Am I blind? Oh, StarClan, no! Horror seizes her; she's almost unable to move again, her jaws parted in a wordless wail, but with some effort she's able to pry that eye open... she can't see much, just shapes and shadows, and the blood keeps welling into it... she closes it again, wanting to shield the eye from the worst of the blood.

It isn't long before Roeflame is calling a retreat, and Ivorypaw spots Palefire's ragged shape through the chaos. She limps — oh, her body aches, and the eye stings, and she's never been so exhausted in her life — and hobbles after her as her Clan returns home, their tails between their legs. We lost, Flamestar. I'm sorry.

  • ooc: fleeing :)
  • Adora . Ivorykit . Ivorypaw, she/her w/ feminine terms.
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — 8 moons old, ages realistically on the 16th.
    — mentored by Palefire ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a.
    — thunderclan apprentice. npc x npc, gen 1.
    — penned by Marquette.

    lh white she-cat with curled ears and brown eyes. compassionate, righteous, naive, idealistic, self-doubting, self-destructive.

 
Relief flooded through her as Ivorypaw darted past her to follow their clanmates, though she didn't miss the brutal gash across her eye. A problem for when we're safe. Her gaze raked the area one last time, prepared to make her retreat, when her eyes fell upon Tallstep. He was struggling beneath the paws of a much larger, much meaner Shadowclanner. "Dammit," she cursed bitterly, her muscles aching as she stepped away from Roeflame and launched herself back into the fray. Like many of her clanmates, he had always been too gentle and eager to talk things out. This is what you get when you try to use words instead of claws on the battlefield.

As she reached the tousling pair, she lunged for Scalejaw, talons unsheathed as she attempted to dig them into the older molly's shoulders. If she were lucky, the force of her body weight would send both of them tumbling into the dirt and pull the lead warrior off of her clanmate. Should she be successful in displacing Scalejaw, Palefire would try to briefly batter her sides with her back paws to disorient her, shouting to the nearest flaming pelt she spotted. "Orangepaw, get Tallstep out of here now!"

She waited until she saw that the apprentice had done as she'd ordered, giving them precious seconds to get out of the way before she swiftly released her hold on the smoky chimera. Now, she just needed to get herself out of there safely. Like what she had done to Briarthorn, the lynx-point gave Scalejaw one final, hard kick before rolling onto her paws and leaping out of reach. Without sparing a glance backwards, she raced to catch up to her clan, her torn limbs burning by the time she reached Orangepaw. "Let me help," she panted, taking Tallstep's scruff from the younger tom. He looked terrible; they needed to get him to Gentlestorm immediately.

  • [ attacking @scalejaw // powerplay permission given for @TALLSTEP and @ORANGEPAW. // they're out! ]

  • 1HGrVLs.png
    PALEFIRE she / her, warrior of thunderclan, 20 moons
    lh lilac lynx point w/ low white and blue eyes
    single, crushing on no one / npc x npc / sister to bluestride
    mentoring meadowpaw & ivorypaw / mentored by nightbird
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / all opinions ic
    underline and tag when attacking
    penned by limerence@limericks. on discord, dm for plots.
 
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Reactions: ORANGEPAW.
cold air touches the bleeding wound from her shoulder, and it burns. it makes her wince, almost. leafhusk wishes her claws could’ve sliced more skin, they drip with fresh blood from her opponent’s shoulder and that’s all she’ll get.

the roar of battle pounds in her ears, but the screech is deafening. she sees a single moment, and her body braces. leafhusk imagines herself attacking sharpshadow over the stupid mistake she had done, her muscles pull her forward to fall right in; then roeflame calls for retreat. golden eyes finally look over to the commotion, a body fell and they’re the ones retreating? leafhusk’s breath catches in her throat, releasing haggardly in a plume of frosted air.

her eyes meet his in a silent understanding to back down. they both sit underneath their respective leader’s council, tethered to their duties that sometimes feels like barbed wire. leafhusk allows sharpshadow to depart with her lips pulled back in an almost childish display of a snarl. her eyes shift around the scene, lingering on the patrol she originally came with. they're fine. teeth bite the inside of her cheek. if roeflame hadn’t called for them to run away, she could’ve gotten him, her thoughts are bitter as she turns and begins to hobble away with her clan.

disengaging @SHARPSHADOW + retreating


 
78289620_DdxzgsgtzQeo57a.png
"-erny," Needledrift shot up, suddenly weightless with adrenaline. Ferndance needed her, she - ... she looked back at her body, and Ferndance cradling her face, her bloodied, angry face, a snapshot preserved in warrior's death. She looks away quickly, before the existentialism of looking at her own face - so small and so delicate in Ferndance's paws - consumed her wholly and totally.

a strong end, but not the end I would have liked to see.

Needledrift flicked an ear in response to the voice, that sweet, familiar voice she had mourned for so many moons. Chilledstar, bathed in starlight, playing the role of valkyrie in her final moments. "I never believed ThunderClan did it, you know. Flamestar... she's too honorable, too clever to allow her warriors to murder... or so I thought." Blood welled at the throat of her corpse, dark and sticky - tar spilling, clinging, lapping eagerly at the paws of her friends.

She tears her eyes away and lets herself be comforted by Chilledstar's weightless form, the brightness of their pelt making up for the lack of warmth. "No, no, this... this is just fine. I-i missed you, emotionality and all. We can go now, I..."

She spared one last glance to Ferndance and Mapletuft, and she could feel her heart break a little to not be able to reassure them: I'm safe, I'm with Chilledstar, I'll be right here whenever you need me. Invisible... but here.

"ShadowClan will survive. That's all I've ever wanted. Mirestar will take care of them." And with that, she allowed herself to be escorted away, towards the starry hunting grounds of their ancestors, content with the knowledge that despite her loss, ShadowClan had won.

@CHILLEDSTAR. and we out :')
 
ddd766908b2f55be5125eb67dcb6934dc3225d4br1-356-356v2_00.jpg
Murderers.
The word brought Wildheart to an eerie halt as he stood over Singeglare with a dangerous look in his amber eyes. There was a dangerous look about him at that moment as he seriously toyed with the notion of proving the ShadowClanner right. ”You did it once, do it again.” A ShadowClanner had already fallen during the fight, not because of him, but blood had been paid for the stretch of territory and in response to a crime that ThunderClan was innocent of.

The feel of the claws and kicks against his form draw him back from the dark depths of his thoughts, and it draws a loud snarl of annoyance from him as he flashes his teeth at the ShadowClanner. Raising a claw up high, he then aimed to smack Singeglare across the face in the hopes of silencing him. ”Your clanmate lies dead today because you accused us of something we didn’t do, now you’ve paid the price. Enjoy this stretch of ground, because you paid for it in blood.” It was hard to not see the retreating forms of his clanmates and he knew that sticking around any longer would put him in danger. With a look of reluctance he finally sprang away from Singeglare before sprinting away to catch up with the others, leaving behind a small splattering of his own blood from the cut on his belly.

//Fighting @SINGEGLARE
Rolled 11 for Defense, and 7 for Attack
Retreating due to the call to flee!

 

She had been so close. So close to taking what Thunderclan had attempted to throw at them. A weak, sniveling mess of a warrior, all leg and no fire. Her fangs are bared for the final attack, where she could almost imagine the blood well about her fangs, a righteous death all the same. Battle, the most glorious way to go.

He is pricking at her pelt, trying to wiggle free, and the blow on her side has her pausing briefly. Alarm bells ring in her head as she turns, vision snatching Palefire's just in time to be flung from Tallstep. And she did roll- but Scalejaw untangled herself from Palefire before scathing, stunning blows could land her ribs. She snarled at the Thunderclanner, feathered visage narrowed upon her new target.

She didn't chase this time, no- she was wise enough to turn her vision towards the rest of the battlefield, where Thunderclan was retreating. Her vision scanned the field, ignoring what had become her new target in favor of that information. "Dry thunder. Lightning never to strke." She murmurs, blood dripping from her shoulders as she starts to move through the Shadowclanners- turning to ensure the last of Thunderclan fled the strip of land they had secured before she leaves with the rest.
  • "speech"
    // disengaging from @PALEFIRE and @TALLSTEP, retreating only once thunderclan is gone!
  • SCALEJAW 🌧 she/her, lead warrior of shadowclan, sixty-six moons.
    A SH black/LH blue smoke chimera with glowering orange eyes, tufts of fur that make her look dragon-akin, and scars that she wears with pride. motherly and stern attitude, with a warm streak for clanmates and a cruel streak for enemies.
    mentoring no one
    padding after no one / / mother to bonerattle, nightwhisper, and shadefall
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 
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There. Tigerwing saw the apprentice hurling itself to a warrior. A warrior. Not an apprentice, not someone howlpaws size, a warrior. Anger flashed through the warrior. Anger mixed with fear as she shoved through fighting bodies, cries sounding blank compared to the thrumming of her heart.
Something, someone collided into her. Her thin frame spun, slid and skidded, feeling the pull of claws rip her flank. She was too blind with rage to focus on who or what- instead a white forearm guided her forward into a leap. She aimed to thrash at the attacker, swinging a white arm down to tear at tender flesh of an ear.

Dizzying amount of blood spilled down her forearm, but it couldn't stop her. She was a warrior. A mentor. She had an apprentice out there, being attacked by a cruel warrior. It wasn't a fair fight. She knew this. But Shadowclan didn't care, now did they?

She thrusted away from the other, hoping, praying to starclan, she could make it to howlpaw in time. There was no agility, she was scrambling. But if anything happened to her apprentice, she would blame herself. There would only be her to blame. Her flank throbbed, scars long healed reopened with the tear of claws. She barely felt it. It couldn't have been deep, it could not have been.

She didn't care. Her limbs stretched, feeling the wind pull through her as she flew, until finally, her sprint would cause her to hopefully collide into the other warrior. Strength made up of speed, she'd try to grapple with claws outstretched towards the smokey warrior from behind. If successful, sending the two tumbling and hopefully with her on top. But fate can go both ways. And she was by no means strong. And she would aim, quickly, to try to bite into flesh of shoulder, of forearm, wherever she could manage.


//Tigerwing is attempting to get away from @Swallowflutter. And tears at Swallows ear. Tiger is attempting to defend @HOWLPAW from @LIVIDSMOKE
// Powerplay permission allowed from Kitty. Finishing up the battle! I'm aiming for nothing serious to tiger but subject to change on ic events! She's being a lil reckless right now.
 
⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ Being kicked in the stomach and chest was not the most pleasant thing. Her chest aches trying to grasp for air just for it to be knocked out by the stupid shadowclanner. But she's felt so much worse—her skin and flesh being ripped though by her own clanmate—nothing compares to that burning sensation. Dwindlingpaw grites her teeth. Plumpaw looks at her with such fierce determination; even with her throat exposed, she almost pities them; they clearly don't know the dangerous position she's in.

For a moment, she considers backing off. Her consciousness was heavy. Plumpaw kicks more wildly at her stomach. The red apprentice feels sick; her muscles burn for the effort of holding on. A shuttered breath is forced out of her, and Dwidningpaw's claws loosen from her target. Her body was forced to the side by the other. "You're not getting away!" She screeched, anger burning its way through her. Dwindlingpaw swings at Plumpaw, her claws exposed to the frosty air, before sinking into warm flesh once more. Her long furred red paw collides with Plumpaw's face before being pulled down, tearing into the other apprentice's upper body.

The smell of copper fills her nose, and she can't help but take a step back away from the blood that she caused. Narrow blue eyes look down at her blood paw in horror as the quickly cooling liquid soaks into her fur.

  • ooc:@plumpaw, girly going so have such cool scars ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝
  • 87860419_VubmXDbkHlztzEw.png

    Dwindlingpaw— She/Her ・ 10 moons ・ Thunderclan apprentice・ PENNED BY @Ghostunes!
    ☀︎ A charismatic colorful array of cream orange and red fur shaped like an apprentice.

    ☀︎ Crimsonsun x Shadedmoon


    ☀︎ Tags
 

⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆  "Deny all you wish..." breathes the ivory molly mournfully. This is what has lead them to war, this naivete. If ThunderClan wishes for peace to be restored, they must cull the rot from their ranks. ShadowClan does not hesitate to do the same, and yet the rest of the forest condemns them for it.

Her claws carve a path towards the lifeblood that hums through the apprentice's throat. He is young, with a whole life unspooling ahead of him, ready to be snipped short. He is young, as her sister was. A destiny ripped from between her waiting paws. She can feel the hitch in her breath as her claws draw closer, so close - and then pain blooms red and harsh in her own throat.

She jerks, chokes.

Wide and glossy eyes meet a silvery warrior, latched onto the nape of her throat. He hisses curses as the apprentice backs away. Papa, cries the boy. A father protecting his son.

Her heart clenches with jealousy. It is not fair, that this child should still have his parents here to protect him. It is not fair for them to treat her as a monster, when this is what was ripped from her. Flailing paws shove frantically against Campionsong's body, feeling flesh rip from her throat as she pushes him away. Her vision swims, the cat before her little more than a hazy shadow. She moves automatically, as if pulled in a dream. She cannot die here; she has been sent for a reason. Applejaw must be avenged.

Swansong crashes into the warrior's body as he looks to his son, feeling the thrumming fear in his heartbeat. From somewhere outside herself, she wrestles him to the ground. Her paw presses down upon his neck, and she sways above him. "Oh... Oh, how... sweet, how noble..." Her voice is a rasping croak, hollow even to her own ears. Blood drips down onto the cat beneath her.

For a moment, she stares at the fearful form of the warrior's son. This moment, she knows, will be imprinted upon the young and sunlit tom forever. Death will follow him, just as it does her.

She leans in close to Campionsong, presses her paw harder upon his neck to hold him in place. A shaky whisper spills from her maw, blood smearing across both of their pelts. "I am... merciful. More merciful than your kind... Rest peacefully, for your son shall live on," she assures softly. It does not bring her any joy, this retribution. Basilpaw shall suffer as she has suffered. The spirits have delivered her their chosen sacrifice, and she brings him mercy even as every word tears through her wounded throat. "But... the dead demand blood... A life for a life... Know that they will welcome you sweetly... Know that your death is a noble one. It is more than my sister was afforded..." She swallows thickly, painfully.

She feels weak. Her claws unsheathe, blood pricking beneath them. "May we meet again in the stars..." She murmurs, pulling her head back up.

She draws her claws across his throat, spilling red across the earth. Before he can even gasp, they lean in close to clasp their teeth around the wound. They will kill him as they do any piece of prey, a merciful and quick death. Ivory teeth seek the warm taste of blood, holding him firmly until the struggling stops.

And then it is over.

Swansong stumbles back.

Her vision swims, her breaths shallow. She cannot find the apprentice through the spots in her vision, but knows her voice will reach him nonetheless. "Take... his body... I will not deny you... the solace of mourning." Her voice breaks, shaking and thin. Bitter jealousy aches within the hollow of her chest. It is kinder than any of them deserve, but she knows that innocent naivete in the apprentice's voice all too well. It pains her to rip it away.

Maybe that is why she was chosen. She delivers justice with all the sweetness of a blossom peeking through snow.

Swansong smiles weakly, and her knees give out beneath her.

  • // interacting with @BASILPAW! & killing @CAMPIONSONG before collapsing from blood loss
  • 81294824_mjXd5ejx6RrZPyn.png
  • SWANSONG  she / they, warrior of shadowclan, 20 moons.
    a pale, silky-furred cream tabby with tired blue eyes.
    dreamy and detached, known for her perpetual sleepiness.
    halfshade x smogstar, littermate to applejaw, garlicheart, & ashenfall.
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
 
  • Wow
Reactions: ixora and Sloane
OUR LOVE STORY
COULD BE KINDA GORY

swallowflutter 13 moons polygender any pronouns shadowclan warrior

86346753_jJ5uH9cvyfuqpnW.png
In that moment, Swallowflutter does not think - there sn't any time too. When thunderclan warrior tries to follow her apprentice, heading towards Lividsmoke, eyes see red - pounces in a heartbeat, as unsheathed claws reach out to rake against flanks. The scent of metal and blood is quick to fill the air as her opponent rears back - hissing and spitting and-

Oh.

There is a moment of pain as head dodges a bit too slowly - her small size not working to her advantage this time as Tigerwing turns claws upon her, and time nearly seems to slow. And then there is a flood of crimson cascading down her face from ear... or, what remains of it anyways. With claws leaving wounds across her skull, she can't see through the trickle of dampness that leaves one side blinded and her face feeling hot and sticky - shock leaving her a bit too slow on her paws as she tries to give chase.

In that moment, it matters little to the chimera that Lividsmoke can hold their own - she only knows that she can't stand the thought of someone, anyone, touching what's hers.

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

( F A R F R O M B O R I N G )

// chasing after @tigerwing but a bit too slow to interfere </3
 
  • Crying
Reactions: Deidre

His claws connect with her nose, and she rears back, a paw flashing out blindly. It catches him upside the face, scoring a shallow cut into his forehead. It stings, but he endures it, as he always does. He can't afford to do otherwise. The hurt in her expression is pathetic, it should anger him, stir disgust in his chest, but...

"...why can't we just work together?" She's so naive. Clearly, she doesn't have a cat like Nonna in her life to drill the harsher lessons of life into her. he hates that he envies her. "It's k-kill or be killed," he insists, his tail lashing behind him as he parrots Nonna's words. But he doesn't want to kill her. Does he have to? Swansong and an authoritative ThunderClan molly seem to think so. They cut down their foes with a frightening ease.

A second attack whiffs past his face. This time, he has a chance to react, flinching backwards as she makes her half-hearted swipe. She's too soft for this. In a moment of horrible clarity, he realizes he is, too - he doesn't have the guts to do what needs to be done. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he berates himself, grits his teeth, and hisses, "Mierda."

"Your cat told you to retreat, so go. But - but don't expect the next ShadowClanner to go so easy on you!" The little crow tries to make his words big and threatening, but they fall flat upon his ears. He lunges at her, hoping to scare her off just as she had a moment before. "Go already! You've lost!"



  • @Bugpaw !

  • LAVENDERPAW he/him, apprentice of shadowclan, seven moons
    a small, spiky-furred black smoke tom with odd eyes and low white. he's resentful of being dumped at shadowclan's paws by his nonna, and avoids his new clanmates as much as he can, but in truth he's a compassionate young cat who romanticizes the world around him. he holds a deep fascination with birds of prey. ic opinions, he is in his pre-teen angst phase and it will get worse before it gets better.
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ see battle info here
    penned by solaire@funeralscythe on discord, feel free to ping for plots.

 
  • Sad
Reactions: Bugpaw !

Stonepaw was grinning, adrenaline flooding his veins as he felt his claws tear through her skin. Her cry was intoxicating. Her claws in his cheek made him hiss, but it only spurred him on further. He didn't even know who she was. He didn't care, he was fighting for his clan and he was winning. Maybe the excitement that filled him now would worry him later. It didn't matter right now. He wouldn't kill her or anything. Yet.

He went to bite the paw that scratched him, and if he managed to grab hold, pull. He was almost disappointed at the call for a retreat from ThunderClan. They were only just getting to the good part! "Get out of here, ThunderClan weakling," he snarled. He went to shove her away from him. The stinging in his cheek served as his grounding, pulling him back to the present.


 
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