CAN YOU SPEAK UP? ☆ shadowclan patrol

[GECKOSCREECH]

// set before the skirmish!

savage gales continued to rake through the marshlands with no sign of tapering off anytime soon, hellbent on causing as much disruption as it can across the territories by threatening to tear up everything from their roots and send it soaring through the skies. so far geckoscreech has only seen debris and leafage being thrown around on the currents but maybe when they arrive at their shared border they'll get a chance to witness a windclan patrol getting swept away never to be seen again.

one could only hope.

just barely managing to push against the opposing winds, her patrol arrives at the border although looking more tousled than usual thanks to their fur getting blown every which way. geckoscreech cannot help but wonder if being out here was even worth it, i mean she could hardly smell the current scents right now so what difference would re-marking the surrounding area be if it's going to muddled by the storm? "i know this weather is a pain in the tail but i still want you all keep your guard up." she calls out to her clanmates closeby, trying to speak over the wind as best she could.

☆ @coyotethroat @ROOSTERSTRUT @CHITTERTONGUE @Ravenwatcher. @Maggotfur. @spectermask @EERIEPAW​

∘₊✧ ONE LAST LIFELINE, I'M HANGING HIGH. ✧₊∘​

 

[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶ Oddly enough the tom looks like he is having the time of his life right now. With the way the wind preys on his gangly form the chimera is all but lifted here and there and the feeling of floating has his maw stretched wide. Blinking his gaze around the area he tries his best to hear Gecko, nodding vigorously as he keeps his claws lodged within the packed dirt of the edge of the Thunderpath. "I hope a monster does get blown off the path." He cackles as he stoops down low to try and scent anything. But it hardly gives him a guess of what might have been here and what might not have. Still he doubts that Windclan are not having their own troubles with the wind. Afterall they have no trees to break the galeforce. Nothing. To see them flying off into the sky to meet their Starclan would be a wonder indeed. A good laugh if he says so himself.

Turning he starts to try and mark, having very little success in it hitting the mark. Oh well.​

 

[Maggotfur.]

EYES COVERED IN INK AND BLEACH​

maggotpaw | 07 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold mediumpurple

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​

Maggotpaw follows along listlessly, not all that interested in this patrol. The thunderpath holds all manner of treasures upon its surface and sides, but it is near impossible for her to wander off in search of them now - not with others around to see. Turquoise gaze does, however, flicker towards the other side - wondering. Sunflowerpaw - a name she has now memorized, belonging to the feline she has seen thrice now. Is it fate or just chance? She's never believed in fate, never believed that the power to control her life lies anywhere but within her own paws, but she is certainly beginning to question. "Not our way, I'd hope," she says tonelessly as chittertongue cackles - really, why are her clanmates so weird? "Tch - it's just windclan, there's nothing scary about them," she mutters. The scrawny looking moor cats do not intimidate her - she's past her sixth moon now, her growths spurts finally drawing to a halt, and she's much larger than those she's met so far. What threat could they possibly pose?

​

 

[HARRIERSTRIPE]

Yellow eyes beam across the thunderpath as Harrierpaw follows his patrol down the slope. The wind carries the ShadowClanner’s tones, he can’t catch what they’re saying but he can tell it’s nothing good. Bitterly the brown fur on his neck bristles and he casts a glance to @Firefang , ”All ShadowClan ever does is talk.” Even though he’s only been an apprentice for two moons, he knows that when the swamp cats speak most of it tends to be lies and schemes. They do nothing but trespass, on ThunderClan land, and now on WindClan land. Some cats of WindClan despised RiverClan, but at least they were a real and honorable clan, some despised SkyClan, but the band of kittypets were too easy of an enemy.

Harrierpaw decides he hates ShadowClan. ​

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Spoiler: TAGS 🪶 05-18

( primary character / "speech" / ic opinions )​

╰ ჻ 001 GENERAL INFORMATION ,
· HARRIERPAW, male — he / him
╰ ‣ 5 moons . pisces. ages on the 14th
╰ ‣ windclan apprentice . believes in starclan

╰ ჻ 002 VISUALS & AESTHETICS ,
· DOMESTIC FELINE, smells of the earth and dry grass , status — 100%
╰ ‣ blue and brown chimera . average sized WindClanner . yellow eyes

╰ ჻ 003 MENTALITY & MANNERISMS ,
· ESTJ-A ❝ EXECTUTIVE ❞ , Slytherin, Chaotic neutral
╰ ‣ self-reliant, loyal, disciplined, direct, impatient, unsympathetic, judge mental
╰ ‣ finds moderate difficulty in relating to others . can be cruel

╰ ჻ 004 INTERACTIONS & RELATIONSHIPS ,
· WEASELCLAW x SOOTSTAR, brother to Cloudedsky, Moorpaw, Adderpaw, Bluepaw & Cottonpaw
╰ ‣ nephew to Mintshade & Bluepool
╰ ‣ sexuality unknown
╰ ‣ apprentice to Firefang
╰ ‣ okay fighter . okay hunter .
╰ ‣ will start fights . unlikely to flee .
╰ ‣ attack in underline . penned by user @ava.​

​

​

 

[MOORBLOSSOM]

Sluggish paws would lug along the moon-and-midnight apprentice, who can only don a mild frown as the patrol drew near the thunderpath. Somehow, amid the winds that razed down the moorgrass and tore across the flatlands, the unmistakable odour of ShadowClan has wafted across their border. Smells of bile, excrement, and slime. It's astounding how they could turn poor hygiene into a staple of their little clique, and even take pride in it.

Left without a mentor to guide her, Moorpaw found herself trapped in a state of awkward uncertainty, forced to loiter alongside the rest of her patrol, masking her inexperience with a feigned air of understanding. Fortunately, she found a source of familiarity in Harrierpaw's presence, which permitted her to loosen up by the faintest of margins. She shall follow by his example, and seeing how said example is bad-mouthing the swamp-dwellers, her unsettled manner is soon washed over by an impish grin.

"Hey-uh, Harrierpaw!" chirps the she-cat. A sidelong glance is imparted towards her littermate, eyelids narrowed in devilry. "What did the ShadowClan leader say to the monster?" The joke hangs in the air for a moment, with the punchline slowly drawing from its holster. She'd snicker, before her eyes shoot wide, and in a sham expression of terror, Moorpaw would scream: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"​

 

[spectermask]

"You heard Gecko, Eerie? Don't let your guard down, Windclan is known for being nothing but trouble." Windclan and Thunderclan, really. Specter doesn't have an issue with Skyclan or Riverclan, but he finds himself growing annoyed as he travels alongside his apprentice. Chitter and Maggot erupt in to idle conversation as Specter sniffs around, both for hunting scents as well as for any fading scent markers. He'd hope Eerie is doing the same, wherever he is.

He snorts in amusement as two Windclan apprentices approach, they're easy to ignore, sounding akin to mice- at least until one of them makes a comment about the former Shadowclan leader. A green gaze slides towards Chitter, the son of the one the little cat is referring to. Specter grits his teeth and acts fast, padding over to walk besides him and finally he aims to bump Chitter lightly on the shoulder with his head. "Just ignore the comments and remember their faces. That way, you know who to come after next." a grin breaks his lips as he looks back to the two Windclan apprentices. Specter knew Chilled more than likely didn't want a fight, not right now, and so he'd do his best to steer Chitter away. "I think it's about time for us to get back, anyways," nonchalantly spoken, he looks to Gecko for backup, trying to push Chitter back with another small head-bump as he moves to block his view.

He would have to admit it was a pretty good taunt, though, but he'd rather not give the rats their credit.​

"speech"​

 

[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶ The tom is fine, though he has always been seen as the weird one of his litter his family means a lot to him. His mother's death is always a touchy subject and really he doesn't expect someone to make fun of her dying. Dying in order to save her own kits from a monster on the thunderpath. The comment leaks into his ears, the joke settling into his mind and turning his vision red. His head jerks up and his jaws spread open, that grin he always carries becoming wider as his teeth suddenly snap together. Uncontrollable jittering of his jaws, the want to snap them around that apprentice's neck very apparent. The day had been fine and it always Windclan that breaks the calm. He starts to move, his paws pressing against the edge of the Thunderpath, claws scraping against asphalt. And then something bumps his shoulder. He barely hears the words of his clanmates, intent on the slaughter. The fitful cackle straining from hid throat. He doubted anyone understood the sacrifice Briarstar had to make.

They should feel the sting of death. He is in the middle of the path or rather he would be across by now and gripping that apprentice's neck, slicing their belly open if it isn't for Specter. Pushing him back, making him go home. And yet the whole time his eyes are locked on Moorpaw, staring incessantly with grin on his face as he is shoved back to the pines. ​

 

[EERIENIGHT]

He is bound to pushing through the wind once again - a patrol this time, rather than training with Spectermask. Spindly limbs are careful in their placement as his mentor speaks to him, as his ears strain to hear Geckoscreech over the whistling gusts hitting them.

Keep his guard up, they both say. Eeriepaw can do that.

He is silent as he nears the border, busying himself with marking where he needs to as he stays alert to the scents around him. Soon, WindClan's apprentices show up on their side of the border, and Eeriepaw can only blink at the first apprentice's comment - all ShadowClan ever does is talk. It's a wrong assumption, with the void-furred tom around.

The other apprentice is louder, with a screeching punchline over ShadowClan's founder sent across the way. He doesn't need to strain his ears to hear that one. Another blink is sent their way, before he looks to Chittertongue, Briarstar's son, as Spectermask moves to comfort him.

Perhaps Eeriepaw finds his guard breaking, as dark eyes cast a glance at the sky, and then lock onto the dark-furred WindClanner. "Storm's coming," the shadow finally speaks, a thin tail flicking behind him. Eeriepaw can only hope the moor-dweller is smart enough to fill in the rest.

Wouldn't want your leader getting stuck in it.
​

 

[Firefang]

Firefang normally enjoyed the wind in her fur but the winds that whipped across the moorland now were far more violent, they weren't the pleasant breezes that brought scents of wildflowers and prey downwind. No they threatened to bowl her over if she wasn't careful, no longer could she sprint across the more with abandon lest she wanted to be tumbled over thrown into the long grasses that offered no safety from the roaring winds in which they were named. It's not just them who are dealing with the sudden change in weather from the mostly sunny clear skies of the former moons, she sees the litter on the other borders and she can say she's happy no trees swarm their territory like they do the others having a branch crash down on her was a problem she'd never have to worry about - the thought that they had much more cover from the roaring winds hardly occurs to her to her Windclan always drew the tastiest mouse from the prey pile.

She pads along with her patrol keeping close to Harrierpaw standing closer to the Thunderpath then he does - they're still foxlengths away but even with the safety of distance she's still careful. Her glare crosses over the blackened stone however to the rats who stalk the other side, she's always been the nosey type when it comes to the other clans - to their enemies really - her ears perk trying to decipher the words that almost get drowned out by the gusts. Her apprentices words are far more clear and she nods ❝It's the only thing they're good at, other then lookin' ugly if you consider that a talent❞ she grins, it's a childish insult but she thinks it's funny. She finds Moorpaw's of the same ilk, laughter dances from her. She watches the reaction of the Shadowclanners, her muscles tense she moves to further get in the way of Moorpaw and her brother as one of them begins to dare to draw closer spurred on by anger by Moorpaw's joke she readies to meet him to carve him up and send him packing on his way to join the stars but he's pulled away before he can fully cross the Star-forsaken death-path.

She smirks at him - at them ❝Aww did the apprentice hurt your fweeings?❞ she coos tail lashing both with excitement and hostility all the same ❝C'mon! Try it! if a monster doesn't turn you into crowfood my claws will❞ she taunts her head gesturing to the thunderpath where any second one of those hulking beasts could run across it.​

( ✦ )[/JUSTIFY]

 

[ROOSTERSTRUT]

❪ TAGS ❫ — The winds don't help matters at all, blowing scents every which way and tugging against his long-furred form. WindClan scent is evident now as the group approaches the border and Roosterstrut can't help the sinking feeling in his gut as an opposite patrol arrives just on the other side of the Thunderpath.

Roosterstrut ignored their taunts and jokes, simply rubbing against a nearby tree. Sheesh, the WindClanners were so battle-hungry and snake-tongued. He doesn't want to know the half of whatever environment they're subjected to live in. ShadowClan had some sharp-witted warriors and could throw down if necessary, but Roosterstrut could never imagine them being as cruel as the militant moor cats were. To think that he was once colony-mates with some of them as well.

The red tabby frowned upon noticing how tensed and on-edge Chittertongue has become, even so much as standing on the edge of the Thunderpath. "Yeah... we should just go." Like Spectermask, Roosterstrut also looks to the patrol leader for further instruction, silently hoping that she would agree and keep the group moving. Nothing good would come from sticking around.​