pafp An eye for an eye ✘ riverclan attack

[Cloudedsky]

( ♬ ) In her raging efforts, Cloudedsky is unaware of the state of her clan. She is completely blinded by it, focusing on her own battle between her and Lichentail. She does not know of how Periwinklebreeze and Silverthorn were defeated, or how her younger sister is fairing with the other RiverClan apprentice. Weaselclaw is locked in a deadly battle with that one eyed tom, destined to tear each other at the seams until one of them fall in a bloodied heap. She only sees red, the red rings around her vision and the splattered ichor that speckles across both warriors. Her head feels so light right now, as light as air that no thoughts weigh her down—it's only action that pulls her forward. Her morbid grin still twitches at her bleeding lips, crimson blotting ivory incisors when she pounces back onto the pointed molly.
Claws take seige into her delicate skin along her face in the midst of Lichentail's squirming, squirming just as Cottonpaw squirmed under Smokethroat's own claws and it damn near makes her giddy with excitement. Kill her. Kill her, Cloudedsky. Steal her life away from her. The tunneler still hears that whisper in her ears, that darkness that looms in the back of her mind. Her head shoots forward akin to a snake striking for it's prey, ready to grasp a hold of that thin paper-like skin against her throat and pull—to rip the viscera and muscle tissue till there was nothing left but a bloody hole. Lichentail manages to tuck her chin and turn in the right moment, though teeth still made contact with flesh and fur. She bites down, and a jolt of adrenaline surges through her once more. Blood wells in her mouth, that salty iron tang of it like prey but more potent.
Get off me... you miserable.... wretch...
For once, Cloudedsky offers no reply because she has her and in the euphoria of holding a life in her paws. She could do it. Just a little further upwards... she wants to rip and tear, but within the molly's panic, Lichentail managed to strike out in last attempt to to dislodge her. Her claws make quite the contact, ripping into her own delicate skin and surging upwards. The young warrior gasps in surprise and the onslaught of pain that came with it, lacerations immediately beginning to mat her white fur in splotches of dark crimson. In her gasp, she had lost her place on the blue molly and Lichentail managed to roll away and rips her fur where Cloudedsky's teeth had once latched onto. She spats the fur out that now had been stained red and stares at her defiantly, sunburst eyes glowering in hatred. This wasn't over. She makes another move to run at her opponent, but a single yowl causes her to halt immediately.

WindClan! Retreat!

No! Her gaze locks onto Weaselclaw, finally tearing away from Lichentail and she now sees the state their patrol was in. This was a loss—a loss to WindClan and she almost objects to her lead warrior, to the only father-like figure she knows, but she bites her tongue snd refrains. Eyes pierced back to Lichentail for a moment, her ivory claws still itching to tear at her but it was no use. "Fine." She spits wildly, "The next time we meet, RiverClanner—I'll make sure to finish the job I started. And I never make idle threats." Her tone was cold and another grin breaches onto her face, torn and bleeding as blood stains her teeth. "Bye for now." She adds before turning away, attempting to casually walk away but her wounds were taking their toll. They stung like hellfire upon her chest, blood welling and staining her once pristine fur in pinks and reds. They may have had to pull back for now, but WindClan would be back. They would pay for what they've done.

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( You should see me in a crown ; I'm gonna run this nothing town )

 

[SMOKESTAR]

His chest burns, elation fills his thoughts as claws connect and the blood and spittle flying from his strike only instills in him the need to crash down like a wave upon his foe further but Weaselclaw moves with a swiftness only a WindClanner could have and darts backwards out of the way of his second swing. Smokethroat feels his fur bristling along his spine, rising like spires; prickling near the scars on his face and chest in memoriam of their last battle and he shows his teeth in glower so intense he hopes the burn of his gaze piercings like his claws did a moment before.
He is not prepared for the call to retreat, is instantly wide-eyed and nose wrinkling the moment it sounds, "Don't-" The threat loosens and he yowls in an indignant fury, outrage and fire spilling, smoke blackened lungs of damnation after the fleeing moorland cats; he hopes the wounds they lick bleed for days, he hopes they remember the claws and teeth of RiverClan and think twice before their foolish attempts to attack them in the dead of night again-not that they'd be able to have the chance with their camp restored now and their numbers safely within its walls.
"Run, RUN! RUN! It's all you're good at, swift as the wind, tails curled under you! Go back and let your queen know of your FAILURE!"
To be a fly on the wall, if only, he wished he could witness her face fall and her rage broil over in face of her warriors returning like whipped dogs; he hopes the scars on that apprentice and that wretched brown tabby's face do not heal.
Smokethroat paces along the bridge, blood spilling from one cut ear but steps stiff and uneven as he lets the adrenaline filter from his veins. It is only when the last WindClanner vanishes back over the rolling hills does he whip his head around to his clanmates to get a gauge of injury and numbers both.
"...if you're injured head to Beesong immediately, I don't want to hear it." Briefly his orange gaze narrows, settles on Hyacinthbreath as he passes her but he is too focused on the victory and the return that he does not bother to give her a moment longer of his attention. But he'd seen her fish that WindClanner out, heard her cry for her son to flee. He remembers screaming into her face after Clearsight's death; where did he loyalties lie? Because now he didn't know and he didn't trust her.
​

 

[Mosspool]

Mosspaw's teeth sunk into the other apprentice's tail, and for a second she felt the thrill of success. Her first strike against Riverclan's enemies had landed. This was the moment all her training had prepared her for. With all her might, she pulled. Aiming to drag the captive back toward her clanmates or, at the very least, get her off balance. That would make her easy to pin down, like Smokethroat had done moments earlier. It seemed so simple, in her head.

Then it all fell apart.

The former captive spun around quickly, and Mosspaw tensed. Preparing to defend herself. The attack that came was nothing like her training though. In contrast to the slow and meticulous drills she had practiced so rigorously, the swipe that came toward her face was quick and uncoordinated. She pulled back, but not quick enough, and a claw caught her across the bridge of her nose. It cut in deep, drawing blood.

The pain was sharp, and unexpected, even though it shouldn't have been. She had never been struck like that before.

Letting out a yelp, she instinctively dropped the tail between her teeth to defend herself. The instant she did, she realized her mistake. Her hold had been her best advantage in the fight, and she had let it go carelessly. She hadn't been thinking.

Everything was just happening too fast.

Attempting to make up for her mistake, Mosspaw rushed forward. In the moment, her attack was little better than that of the Windclan apprentice. Exhaustion, panic, and inexperience wore away at the technique that her training had earned her, that she had been so proud of, leaving her to swipe clumsily at Cottonpaw' with no real target.

Now that she had let go of her tail though, there was nothing stopping Cottonpaw from fleeing with the rest of her clanmates. Mosspaw barely heard the call for retreat from the Windclan side, too focused on the opponent in front of her and the adrenaline running through her veins.

// let go of @cottonpaw tail, swiping clumsily at her​

 

[CICADASTAR]

it is a frenzy in mere moments. the windclanner’s screech echoes in his ears even as long, mottled forelimbs make contact with sunny fur. his teeth are only seconds behind, latching into the lead’s nape and curling his lip at the impending taste of blood lodging in his barbed tongue. sunstride snarls, makes a sound from deep within his now - blushing throat and hobbles upon thick, muscled limbs. long ivory paws meet the plats of the bridge in attempt to steady himself on the save, releasing a blood - spattering hiss the moment long, curving fangs are wrenched from their seeded place. he is pulled away with a near audible rip, hoping to deal as much damage on the exit as he had locking on. bitterness fills his mouth, tinges his throat red and it’s only when the wretched thing dares to speak to him do slitted pupils flick upward, wide and wild with energy unrestrained. a madness, a glint of hellish mania that shoves him forward — only to meet the tom’s assault halfway, releasing a heavy gust of breath when a broad shoulder collides with his slim, fluttering chest.

” don’t be so sure, rat. “ the mottled felidae barks back, giving a quick, strong slice at the side of his face with claws fully extended — and something happens around them. he can barely hear the screeching beneath the pulse of blood in thin ears — a frenzy of fur and blood flying about the wooden bridge. from his peripherals he can see clayfur’s opponent pelting away, tail tucked and bleeding and it is deserved. it’s deserved. he hopes they bleed out before reaching their filth - ridden camp, leaves a trail for the rest of them to find as their queens beloved calls a pathetic retreat. cicadastar pants, lolls his tongue from a curved maw to pant breath, lips arched and curved, ” oh — stay, stay! you all seem to feel so welcome, “ the man screams towards retreating backs, claws pulling him forward with the force of it, " don’t let us keep you from our territory, hare - munchers! feel free to come back whenever our young need to hone their claws! " his voice trembles with it, sucks in a breath anger has squeezed from him and his eyes snap to the side, narrow in on a silvery figure and a drowned windclanner now allowed to scamper their pitiful tail away.

smokethroat continues to yell and he falls silent, gaze fixated on the molly from atop the arch of their bridge. victory had fallen at their paws today, but it was of no fault of her own, ” lick your wounds and get to camp. “ he never looks away from her, not when eyes draw from the others. a deep, dark growl kindles in his throat, ” all of you. “ blue eyes flit towards lichentail, towards clayfur, ” lichentail, clayfur. make sure they are no stragglers. “ with that, the leader turns his eyes back towards the horizon where windclanners disperse, ears low. count your sunrises, vermin. his blood boils. youve few left.

˗ˏˋ 𓆩  OOC ✟ VISUAL 𓆪 ´ˎ˗

• i. aiming a final swipe at @SUNSTRIDE , glaring daggers at @hyacinthbreath and not so subtly ordering @CLAYFUR and @lichentail to make sure she gets her tail to camp whew
  
• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  
  
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, mated to smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 43 moons, ages every 50 posts.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
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• "speech"
  

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