CLEARING CAMP 2 ✘ the gallant ones

[Asphodelrain]

*+:｡.｡ It's as if he was born for this.
At least, that's what the arrogant youth tells himself just before heavy paws slam down on his head and shove his face into the water.

Bubbles stream from his mouth as he struggles against the hold, rage and fear combining together to empty his mind of all reasonable thought. Despite the very perilous predicament he's in, with every second counting down painfully quickly towards his demise, Asphodelpaw can't help but reflect bitterly on how utterly humiliating this is. It had been bad enough that he'd been driven from his home and then forced to sequester in another clan with his tail between his legs, but now he's not only failing to get his vengeance but he's losing by being drowned in his clan's - his birthplace's - namesake! He hopes he'll at least be given a warrior name when he dies, though he doubts it'll be an honorable one. Asphodelriver, named for the pathetic way he died...
AGH!
Finally Asphodelpaw, in the nick of time and at the climactic peak of his rushing adrenaline, finds enough purchase against the slippery rocks to shove himself backward. The rogue slips back, crying out with as much anger as Asp before the skinnier boy is upon them. He bats at their face and chest with wild claws, but dizzy and unfocused he doesn't land any particularly strong blows.
Still, it's a wonder when he draws blood. Warm against his river-soaked paws, Asphodel is left awe-struck and...even more dizzy than before. This doesn't feel the same as fish blood. And all at once it strikes Asphodelpaw what he's doing - what he could end up doing. His mind unhelpfully supplies the memory of Cicadastar's body, what it truly means to take someone's life.
And just like that, paws shove at his chest, knocking him right back into the river. The cold water thankfully is enough to snap him out of his momentary shock, but unfortunately, the effect is nullified by the fact that he'd not allowed back up. Weakly, Asphodelpaw tries batting again at the cat, but this time with his back against the pebbles instead of on his stomach, there's no way for him to push himself back up.

//Open for assistance ;W; tl;dr Asp got the tables turned on him and is the one being held down underwater </3

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[Aspenhaze]

Aspenhaze’s paws have been itching to finally get revenge on the rogues, since they didn’t have a chance to when they first invaded. Even more so, they now have to fight for Cicadastar’s honor. They would gratefully do so. They have been slowly recharging themself while in ShadowClan’s camp whenever they got the chance, waiting for this moment. The rogues will learn what they have wrought, scarring their mate, killing their leader!

Aspenhaze starts off dealing as much damage as possible, and any rogue standing in their way gets to know just how painful their claws sting. Their signature smirk turns into a wicked grin as they delight in the yowls of pain they hear arise from their enemies, letting themself bask in their agony. Once they’re satisfied, they’re determined to move onto the truly brutal tactic they had under their pelt. Them being a RiverClan cat is not just for show, after all.

As they make their way to the familiar stream, they spot one of their fellow apprentices getting overpowered by a rogue, body slammed into the water not for the first time. To try and strike down one of their youths…they will not allow it. They rush over as quick as they can, pulling the rogue away from the river by their neck to allow Asphodelpaw to get back to shore once more.

They keep a hold on the rogue, pushing them to the ground and addressing the apprentice. “Let’s finish them off together, shall we?” They volunteer, voice laced with venom towards their target.

They drag the rogue back towards the river, not caring how the terrain might rough them up. They then throw them in, holding them down with all their strength like they did Asphodelpaw. There would be no mercy from them. They leave room for the apprentice to use their force to end their life for sure, and when bubbles stop flowing towards the surface of the water, Aspenhaze finally releases their grasp. “For Cicadastar.”

// OOC : Saving @Asphodelpaw and helping him finish off the rogue that tried to drown him ​

 

[brookstorm]

The days that've passed meant little to Brookpaw. The sun rises and falls regardless of what land she lays her head down in. Prior to this rush of Clan cats cascading through moorlands and splashing through shallow streams, Brookpaw felt as if she had no true idea of what home meant. She feels displaced no matter where she is, and even as her paws thrum through the shallows of the river, she feels no love for the sand beneath her paws.

Home - is the cats that flow around her. Her father, likely crushing a rogue beneath his behemoth size, Lichentail, Dipperpaw, holding their own in the rapids. Even Robinpaw is afforded a cursory glance as they tear apart and fall into the fray. Home is much more than the fish in the water and the reeds woven into her nest, its the cheers of triumph and cries of invading scum as they flee.

Brookpaw listens as her brother and sister call for her. Oxbowpaw chases a wiry grey tom and Meadowpaw is on her tail, keeping the fleeing rogue from having it easy. "Mousebrains," she breathes out, taking off after the duo. Couldn't they just corner him against the river? That colony member says it himself - many of these cats don't even know how to swim!

She's distracted, tunnel visioned on trying to catch up with her warm furred siblings, when a broad shouldered rogue crashes into her side. She lets out a shout of alarm, skidding across the ground. The grit and pebbles scrape up her side and the air around her refuses to find her lungs again. The rogue singles her out, letting out a short chuff of glee. His massive paws press into her chest and hold her down.

He says something, but she cannot hear anything but the blood in her ears.

"MEADOWPAW! OXBOWPAW!" she screams for help, yet even her voice is lost to the rushing in her veins.

[ planned rescue by @meadowpaw and @OXBOWPAW ]​

 

[LILYBLOOM.]

She is still struggling with her rogue when she hears a familiar voice ring out in the air. Keep your claws off of her!

Her green eye shifts to find the familiar form of Darkwhisker, a brief look of alarm in her expression as he lunged at them. Much like how Darkwhisker did not want to lose another sibling, nor too does Lilybloom. She is glad for the assistance but also quietly wishes he would stay back lest he get severely injured. Although the rogue squrims and writhes beneath them, the siblings are successful in dragging them to the river's edge. Fuelled by a desire to keep her brother safe and drive the rogues from her home, Lilybloom does not relent, shoving the rogue closer into the water. Only when they are all by the river does she let up slightly, giving the rogue a chance to right themself. If they were smart, they would run, as any attempt to confront the two on their home soil would surely fail.

Lilybloom's eye looks to her brother, giving him a quick once over before nodding her head. "Let's drive these filthy rogues out for good!"

// fighting a rogue with @DARKWHISKER ​

 

[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

Sasha’s voice has Snakeblink turning his head sharply, briefly thinking she needs help before he understands her meaning. His ears flick, surprised -- but yes, working together is the only way he can hope to get anything done in this battle. He’s about to nod in assent when she suddenly throws herself his way and it’s all he can do to flatten himself down as she sails past and slams into a rogue he had been too distracted to notice.

Seeing her fearlessness in going for the rogue, he doesn’t think it necessary to direct her towards the river’s edge -- he may need the water to do the killing for him, but she looks plenty strong on her own. Still, an easy victory is always good to take. Surging after the former ripple colonist, Snakeblink snaps his teeth at the rogue’s tail, seeking to keep him distracted and wrong-pawed from fighting on two fronts.​

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• distracting the rogue that @CEDARBLAZE is fighting!
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 46 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

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[meadowheart]

There's blood rushing in his ears– so much that he almost doesn't hear Brookpaw's cry of alarm behind him. He'd been so laser-focused on the wiry gray rogue he's chasing with Oxbowpaw that he realizes in that second he'd lost sight of Brookpaw entirely. Meadowpaw skids on his heels to whip around and face his sister, only to be met with the space where his sister should be. Brookpaw is not there. Brookpaw is... where is Brookpaw?

His name erupts from her maw and Meadowpaw's attention is on her instantly, only to see her pressed against the ground by a rogue nearly twice her size (nearly twice his size, too). "BROOKPAW!" It's all he can think to scream. For a minute, he is stuck back on the riverbank, Buckgait plucked up and out of his life forever without an ounce of struggle. He sees his sister beneath the rogue's claws, and he knows he can't let the same happen to her.

A fire erupts beneath his paws. Meadowpaw sprints across the pebbled shore with all of the swiftness of a WindClanner; he runs so quickly he is upon the rogue in mere seconds, claws unsheathed before he knows it, teeth bared before he can even snarl. All of his weight slams into the side of the rogue and they both tumble off of stone-pelted Brookpaw. The apprentice sinks his fangs into the scruff of the much larger cat, beginning his attempt to drag the brute into the river– but the rogue knows better than that.

There is adrenaline like lava in his veins, but a new sensation tears through him as the rogue's claws find purchase in his pelt, as if stinging nettles have found their way beneath his skin. Meadowpaw hardly seems to feel it, though, and backs away from the giant rogue, hoping to regain his footing and get back on the offensive. His plush fawn pelt is run through with pebbles; the rogue's side is scratched up from their fall; his eyes dart around the other tom until finally he sees another opening and takes it for all he can. Meadowpaw lands a well-timed blow across the rogue's face. It's not enough to blind his opponent completely, but it certainly wouldn't help his vision at all.

And so he turns to look at Brookpaw.

Brookpaw, who he had saved; he must have saved her, anyway, because she's no longer trapped beneath the rogue's clutches, and stands free of encumbrance again. Seeing her safe sparks new determination in him. It's not enough to have done that much. He has to make right what the rogue had wronged when he even dared set a paw upon his littermate. When he even dared thinking about taking Brookpaw away from him. Again, Meadowpaw thinks, it is his own turn to take.

Until it isn't.

(TW: description of killing injuries & thoughts of death, sort of graphic so proceed with caution!) The feeling is sudden. The taste is sudden. Lava at his throat; copper on his tongue; was it his own? Suddenly, Meadowpaw can't breathe right– there's something in the way, something thick and sticky and hot and it's metallic and it's blood, oh StarClan it's blood and it's his blood and he's gasping and gagging on it and he can't breathe. His eyes are still on Brookpaw as he realizes looking at her was a mistake. He'd left himself wide open, distracted, and the rogue had....

What had he done? What happened? Meadowpaw can't breathe. He can't think. He sees a shadow pass in front of him, watches it bound towards Brookpaw, and Oxbowpaw is moving towards her too, and Did I save her? I saved her, didn't I? becomes who is that? I can't see her. Who is she? And there is blood so thick in his throat, and there is a chill so cold in his limbs, that he does not even realize he's fallen to the ground in a small heap of fawn and maroon.

I can't breathe. I'm going to die. I can't breathe. "Help," Meadowpaw gurgles, vision fading.​

 

[OXBOWPAW]

Oh, the fire is in her blood now, and every flattening of her paw against the earth has her feeling like she has wings when she springs back up. The rogue’s tail is within reach of her flashing teeth. Meadowpaw scampers alongside her, and Brookpaw, with her muttered curse, isn’t too far behind. The three of them are going to secure the riverlands single-pawed! They will be victorious together, and Lightningstone will be so proud! She’ll do it for Cicadastar, for—

A shriek of surprise, of alarm, causes her to skid to a halt. The bony gray rogue evades them. It’s another who has cut Brookpaw off, slamming into her shoulder and knocking her flat. Enormous paws, claws extended, press onto her sister’s chest, and Oxbowpaw’s ears begin to roar. “GET OFFA HER YOU FLEABITTEN FREAK!” Her lip peels away from her teeth; the fur along her spine, all the way to her tuft of a tail, begins to fluff out.

Beside her, Meadowpaw screams Brookpaw’s name. She can see the horror glassy in his green eyes. He flies to her aid, sinking his fangs into the enormous rogue’s scruff. And truly, Oxbowpaw feels cheered—Meadowpaw is a hero, and he’s always been brave. He will save their sister! She begins to hare after them, kicking up pebbles and mud with every movement of her paws.

It happens so fast. It’s almost instantaneous—one moment, Meadowpaw is triumphant, battered but standing proud, and the next, there are teeth in his throat. The next, he is fumbling, staggering and sinking to his paws, and there’s a scarlet eruption that bursts onto the riverbank, hot and scenting the air with salt and iron. Oxbowpaw’s mouth opens in a wordless scream, one that quickly fills the air with rage. “No, NO!”

She barrels into the rogue, pushing him away from Meadowpaw; the force of her anger, the strength in her body, sends him stumbling backward into the water, as Brookpaw had thought. The cat’s eyes light with panic, but it’s too late—the current catches his back paws, and he’s swept low, lower than he can claw his way to safety from.

Oxbowpaw does not help him back up. She goes to her brother, tears beginning to sting her eyes. “Help,” he tries to say, but the words are bubbling and red, messy. “Meadowpaw,” she cries, throwing her head back with a howl of pain. “Help us! Help him!”

, ”​

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[SMOKESTAR]

—————————————————————⊰★⊱————————————————————
Smokethroat stares at Chilledstar with a cool glance before turning, another rogue launches itself at him and he raises onto his hindlegs to catch them, sending both tumbling down into the shallow river shore; his claws leaving a red streak across the tabby’s face as he twists to secure a hold on them but they squirm away and attempt to pounce upon him again.
He has pivoted away from the rogue he had clashed with, hindlegs kicking out to throw them out of his reach and he watches as another clanmate takes advantage of their sudden tumble to leap upon them - as Smokethroat stands with a heaving breath he hears the horrified screaming that stalls his efforts to throw himself once more into the fray. His stomach lurches, flips and he turns with a speed that could very well have snapped his own neck with the force of it. Oxbowpaw cries and the ground at her paws is a swill of red and froth from the river’s edge, his lone orange eye fixating on the cream form crumpled before her.
Meadowpaw.
For once he looks at Buckgait’s kits and he does not see her blinding him with his distrust and anger; she was gone and his feelings no longer mattered. These were apprentices of RiverClan, born and raised here, the river was their blood and the river ran red with it. Meadowpaw was mortally wounded - he could tell at a glance. He was not a medicine cat, but a wound like that in the throat was too much- he faintly remembers the scar on his own neck, how close he had been to death then when it had been torn open, choking on his own blood until Beesong managed to stifle it and even then the infection that burned him alive had nearly finished the job.

Meadowpaw’s neck is so much smaller than his, the gash so much deeper given the torrent of crimson that flooded from it. He moves forward quickly, at first considering shoving his paw right over the injury to stop it - that maybe something could be done but when he glances at the young tom’s sister he feels his teeth clench hard. It would only be a temporary delay, drawing out what fate had already woven into the stars. They could not fix this, they could not stop the inevitable. Another falls, their clan will be one apprentice less…
The thought strikes him with a spark of will, the only act he now had the power to do. The only solace he could give.

“Our ancestors look down upon this apprentice…” He starts, fumbling only for a moment - he does not know exactly what to say, does not even know if this was the appropriate time, but Meadowpaw is still alive…and he wants him to hear it. That’s all that matters - the words came naturally then, “They have given their life in service to their clan, may StarClan accept them with a name more fitting for them…a warrior name.” Smokethroat leans down, nose to the top of the fallen apprentice’s head, “He will be known as Meadowheart! For no one can deny his courage..”

——✘ when does ripple become a tidal wave ———✘ when does a candle become a flame

• OOC can go here.
• 
  
  
  Smokethroat
  —⊰⋅ Deputy of RiverClan
  —⊰⋅ He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ Black tom w/vitiligo & one orange eye.
  

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[brookstorm]

Claws grip the gnarly fur of her chest, digging into skin, gracing muscle and bone. Brookpaw does not think her wriggling fruitless, her kicking and hissing and swiping useless. She is her mother's savage daughter - the bite that Buckgait invested in her is not lost even as death proves itself to be an ever present option. She's not sure who she calls for next; her father, maybe, or her mentor, or maybe a few fellow apprentices. Perhaps this is StarClan's test, to prove that she is stronger than the plague and war that ran them from their lands. Before she has the chance to wail again, the knives against her chest become pricks, become nothing - the hefty creature is barreled aside by her brother. His teeth find purchase on the rogue's scruff, and she grins.

He swipes and hisses at the rogue, and he looks at her. And he grins.

She blinks. And the rogue dives. And there's blood.

And now, no one is smiling.

It's seconds and moments and breaths (yet none at all) and Brookpaw is still splayed on the ground. Her chest hurts yet she knows it must mean nothing to the bubbling copper and iron that spills so desperately from her brother's throat. She let's out a squeak, "No..." muffled by the beginnings of grief, of despair. Her sister is louder, quicker. Meadowpaw lays sidewards, water running red whilst Oxbowpaw takes her pummeling shots at the rogue. Brookpaw stands, and though her claws grasp reeds and grass and pebbles and sand - she feels as if she is levitating. She moves quickly, decisively, to the thrall.

Oxbowpaw shoves him deep into the riptide and with tears flying from her eyes, Brookpaw follows suit. Paws splash deftly into water as if it slows her none, fangs grip the rogue's throat just as he had Meadowpaw, and she forces him down, down, down. He thrashes and gurgles and she holds on tight, holding her breath for so long she starts to feel dizzy. Brookpaw knows not if it's her determination for retribution, for revenge, that kills him, or the fact that he cannot hold his breath for as long as she - but his sloshing slows, his limbs go limp, and she feels nothing but pain, rage, sadness, horror. The blood on her muzzle drips back into the rushing waters as if they're one in the same.

"Our ancestors..." fern green eyes tilt back over her shoulder, the fire lit in them so quickly doused by the words uttered by Smokethroat. Meadowpaw's bled so much that by now she would figure him empty, yet he spills more and more and more. Stop, she wants to cry. Don't name him, don't make it real. StarClan must not take him yet, stop...! She trudges back up the river bank, pelt soaked with river water and blood, and she slinks to stand rightfully beside her siblings. Her brother, her hero...

"Meadowheart..." she breathes, salty tears escaping her squinted gaze. She feels as if she's losing again - Buckgait's loss had rendered her numb, yet Meadowheart's drifting life overwhelms her with countless emotions. "Thank - thank you, brother," she chokes a sob, trying to smile despite the strangling in her throat. Her lips quiver, "I've heard the fish in StarClan taste better than down here," talking like she does feels like she's giving up, like she's letting him leave. But the furls of blood tell her that she has no choice in the matter. Brookpaw would rather see him off with him knowing that he's saved her - for all she cares, he's saved them all.

"You can go," she breathes quietly, holding her paw over his. She swallows thickly, "You can go."​

 

[LIGHTNINGSTONE]

// don't mind me with this ultra late reply

When he plunges into battle, Lightningstone is plunged into chaos. His eyes seek out his brother, seek out his kits. He finds the three of them barreling after a rogue together, and he's glad they're remaining together. They are stronger as a family, he wants to keep telling them. All they need is each other. And as he begins to trail after them, he knows he intends to stay with them during this battle. Those plans are quickly changed when an unknown force drags him to the ground, claws sinking into his pelt and drawing out a roar of pain. The tom spins around to grapple with the burly she-cat who wrestles him towards the ground, kicking and spitting and clawing. She pins him, and he is trapped beneath her weight. He grimaces and grunts as claws sink into his shoulders, and it's then he hears Brookpaw's yowl for help.

His head snaps towards her in a heartbeat from where he lay against the rocks and his hazel eyes quickly lock onto her, pinned like he is. "Brookpaw!" He shouts thunderously, and attempts to wriggle free to no avail as his attacker keeps her grip firm, sinking her claws deeper. Helpless. He is helpless! But his son saves his sister and he feels relief crackle in his chest. Relief that swiftly turns to horror as his throat is sliced open, and the shore drinks up Meadowpaw's blood. "NO!" With newfound strength, he lands a kick square in the rogue's gut, throwing her off of him. He doesn't glance twice at her as he scrambles to his paws and sprints towards his son. Oxbowpaw and Brookpaw are already huddled at his side where he lays. Smokethroat is there, too.

Lightningstone, panting, comes to a panicked stop next to his crumpled form, wide eyes searching him. "Save him! Where is Ravensong?!" He snarls at the black tom, eyes wild and curled ears pinned. His son. His only son, who had more of Buckgait's courage in one too-small paw than Lightningstone had in his entire body. But Smokethroat begins to murmur ceremonial words, the words granting him his warrior name, and the silvery tom shakes his head. "Save him...." His choked voice falters before his head hangs, teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut. Meadowheart. A single tear rolls down the warrior's face as he crouches low, muzzle resting beside his apprentice's face. You mouse-brain.... "You did good, my son. I'm proud of you. I'm so proud of you." It should've been me. It should've been me, dammit.​