pafp CRIMSON CLOVER [ ambush ]

[THISTLE.]

( ✧ ) she finds herself slightly resenting deacon ever since her encounter with the riverclan patrol days prior. not only had she been viciously attacked, as in her shock at his appearance she hadn’t run quite as fast as she needed to, but he also stole all the glory. she cares not for the riverclanner whose blood now quenches the soil beside the border, but its more the fact he managed to kill one of those river rats so soon. gossip has spread amongst kindling’s rogues, and frankly, thistle feels inferior. it’s not a pleasant experience.

thistle isn’t one to be embarrassed. today will go her way.

the scarred femme paces the riverclan border, fern eye narrowed with contempt as she breathes in the fishy scent markers. her allies pace around her, muttering and spitting amongst each other. there’s a low burning flame in the belly of the dappled she-cat as she stares at her den from moons ago, at the crushed undergrowth where dried blood has melted into the snow. there’s rustling beyond the tall willow tree as a patrol, one of many to pass by in the past few days, approaches the crime scene. a grin floods thistle‘s maw and she shrinks into the shadows, eyeing her comrades with glee.

// please wait for @Snakeblink to reply before posting! this is open for all rogues to post, but only riverclanners tagged in snake’s post may post!
for context, this takes place several days after clayfur’s death, and is a planned ambush to start off this plot!
tagging @third child and @Dust but other rogues are free to post as well ​

 

[Dust]

Dust was eager to get a good look at RiverClan, after the news of Clayfur’s death by Deacon’s paws reached back. Of course that’s not the only reason he’s going, but getting used to the territory that his future home will reside in is important, after all.

Part of him wonders if he’d spot the familiar dark blue fur of his lost sibling amongst them, but he highly doubts it. Either way, when Thistle shoots him a knowing grin, he gives a small one in return to show his support. Now to wait…

// OOC : I do not have energy but He Is Here >:3​

 

[Snakeblink]

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

Clayfur’s death weighs heavy on Snakeblink’s mind. Loss always does. As a lead warrior, it will always be his responsibility to take care of his clanmates; even when he isn’t there; even when there’s nothing he could have done to help.

The patrol is an attempt at making up for that perceived failure. Keeping an eye for more antagonistic rogues on the territory — and taking them out of the camp, where the miasma of grief hangs thick as a fog. Each death is a reminder of previous ones, and the cats he’s asked to accompany him today are no stranger to loss: Clayfur and Gillsight were connected in mourning the former’s mate and latter’s mentor, and Lightningstone’s family has been diminished by fate throughout the moons, most recently by the claws of similar rogues. Staying busy and feeling useful will keep their minds from lingering on the pains of the past, or so he hopes.

Stars, the river has been running red for so long — Snakeblink prays for things to settle soon.

”We shall have to turn back soon,” he murmurs to the warriors at his sides, casting his sharp eyes around and seeing nothing but lengthening shadows. ”Can you hear anything? I do not trust this quiet.” He wonders if he will ever trust the peace of their territory again, after so many have been bled like prey by enemies jumping out of the shadows. Perhaps it’s merely nerves…
​

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

ooc. information.

• patrol tag: @LIGHTNINGSTONE @OXBOWPAW @brookpaw @GILLSIGHT
  
• 
  
  
  — Snakeblink • he / him. 49 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

​

​

 

[GILLSIGHT]

There’s an air of emptiness to RiverClan’s confines where Clayfur once stood. Quiet mourning lingers in the wake of the warrior’s murder, clings to Gillsight’s fur as he strides forward alongside Snakeblink and the rest of the patrol built up for prevention of further loss. The rogues have returned, he’s learned — the rogues are the one who struck the warrior down.

It’s too quiet as they near a crime scene he’d rather not have the knowledge of, a setting he can only tie with blank leaf-green eyes and stilled soil-hued fur. His ears ring at the inert atmosphere, and he nearly jumps at the sound of Snakeblink’s voice.

“ I-I don’t trust it e-either, “ he says to the lead warrior, vigilant gaze searching for something out of the ordinary. This doesn’t feel right. Off, though he hadn’t expected the place where Clayfur had been slain to be rendered in such eerie peace.​

✦ ABOUT

• 

  GILL ‣ GILLPAW ‣ GILLSIGHT
  ── Warrior of RiverClan
  
  ── ??? x ???
  ── AMAB; He/Him
  ── A scarred, black and white tom with yellow eyes.
  ── Mentored by Clearsight
  ── "Speech"; Attack​

​

 

[brookstorm]

Brookpaw follows the patrol deftly, piercing green eyes fluttering about just every nook and cranny they pass. Too many well-crafted warriors died by rogue paws - it's time to put an end to it, she thinks. This is just a patrol, however. A scouting one, perhaps, to gain intel and further understand the comings and goings of the mysterious cats, but a patrol nonetheless. A piece of her almost hopes that the culprits snake out of the weeds, just so that she can hook her claws into one for a minute or two.

"Nothing beyond the wind," Brookpaw comments, pausing only for a second to scent the air.​

 

[third child]

RiverClan moves—Third Child watches in silence as the realization comes over Thistle's face. They would gladly follow her into battle. They would follow her anywhere she asked. The conversation of the RiverClanners drifts by Three—their ears twist atop their head, angled to listen. Nonsense, and fear. Third Child's mouth curves, satisfied.

The sun must be shining brighter on Three than their peers. If they linger too long, there would surely be a perfect ring of melted snow in their place. They stand slowly, like the unfurling of a fern, and creep to Thistle's side, mindful of the noise inherent to movement, and offer her a near imperceptible nod. The rats are here—I'll go where you go.​

 

[LIGHTNINGSTONE]

Lightningstone shoulders his way as quietly as he can through the brittle reeds, hazel eyes scanning the area with sharp precision. His two daughters accompany him and the other warriors on this patrol, their mentors not present, and so he opts to stick by them for protection. He will not risk what happened to Meadowheart happening to either of them, too.

His silvered tail lashes as he listens to Snakeblink’s words. “The birds aren’t singing,” He observes lowly, casting his skull upwards to examine the willow branches. A lack of birdsong is never a good sign…either there is danger nearby, or this patrol had been louder than he’d thought. Cautiously, the warrior rolls back his shoulders in preparation for….something. The silence has him uneasy. “What’s the call, Snakeblink?” Perhaps in the past, the bull-headed blue tom would have made his own call, opting to save his own hide and those he loved. But since his battle with the rogues, he feels differently. There is a greater respect in his eyes when he looks to the patrol’s leader. There is the knowledge that he plays a role here, and he must serve out that role in any way he can. So, he awaits orders, curled ears pressing forward.​

 

[THISTLE.]

( ✧ ) dust smirks in return and third child stalks to thistle's side, a quick nod showing their support. thistle's eye narrows, scratches from the prior fight still burning her skin. the riverclanners come into view, a scrawny tabby at their head, with a curl-eared gray warrior and a black and white tom filling out his patrol. two younger cats tag along, although their muscles are hardened. over all, it looks like a rough fight. it's no matter to thistle, though, and she crouches low, flicking her mottled tail as the patrol pauses to speak.

there is a moment, brief and quiet, as if the earth itself is holding its breath, and then the rogues spring to action. thistle rears up, drawing herself to her full size and throwing herself at snakeblink. she attempts to use her hefty weight to bowl the skinnier tomcat over, thorn sharp claws grappling at anything she can reach. "smart not to trust the quiet," she growls, voice raspy with battlelust. "your younger charges need their noses checked."

should she be successful in her surprise attack, she will aim to dig her fangs into the tomcat's neck, tearing with no remorse. her hind claws kick out, digging into his stomach. around her, the air erupts in screeches and yowls, and satisfaction blooms deep in her gut.

// attacking @Snakeblink . this thread is open to all rogues now!! ​

 

[Snakeblink]

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

The unease of his patrol doesn't fill him with confidence. He nods along to Gillsight's caution, opening his mouth: ”Let's—” turn back, he is about to say, but doesn’t get the chance.

Snakeblink hears rustling in the reeds, but by that time it’s too late: he can’t quite brace himself in time, and the larger bulk of his attacker sends him sprawling in the dirt. He hisses through his teeth, claws flashing as he tries to knock her paws away.

”Lightningstone—” he gasps, though his eyes skitter over the silvery tom as he tries to take in the whole situation in his panic. ”The apprentices!”

Get them away, don’t let them meet Clayfur’s fate, but these words too are knocked out of him as teeth and claws descend on him.

He twists in Thistle’s grasp like his namesake would, his jaws snapping at her face as hers close around the junction of his neck and shoulder, her claws raking burning lines down his sides as he turns to protect his tender underbelly. He aims to claw at her eyes while kicking his hindlegs, trying to gain some space and wiggle free from her grasp. But even then his attention is drawn away, trying to glance back to his patrol. There are too many rogues — he wants to tell the apprentices to run, but the weight on top of him keeps him from speaking.​

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

ooc. information.

• fighting back against @THISTLE.
  
• 
  
  
  — Snakeblink • he / him. 49 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

​

​

 

[OXBOWPAW]

Reed slap wetly against Oxbowpaw’s curled flank. The cinnamon she-cat walks on thick, brawny paws, her gaze glassy and unfocused. The patrol is like any other—until it isn’t. They come to a quiet part of the wetlands, to a border with faint, strange scents mingling with their markers. Oxbowpaw’s gaze narrows as cats verbalize their observations. Snakeblink, the leader of the patrol, murmurs that he does not trust the quiet; Gillsight agrees, and her sister mews that she hears nothing but the wind. She turns to gaze sharply at her father—he notes the birds are not singing, and with a start, she realizes that it’s true.

It’s moments before the clearing explodes into chaos. A feline with outstretched claws explodes from their cover, her teeth bared and her tongue dripping venom. She crashes into Snakeblink, who stutters a command toward her father. The apprentices, he calls. Oxbowpaw’s pelt bristles, and she exposes her fangs to the root at the nearest rogue. “I’m not a kit! Get out’f our territory!” Red hazes her vision—and suddenly, she’s back at the river, back to where her brother’s body muddies the water scarlet, where the rogue inhales enough water to send him floating down the current.

ooc: attacking the nearest rogue! Feel free to powerplay :]


​

 

[forgiven vengeance ✩]

~ 𓆩✧𓆪 ~​

Eyes alike holly leaves flash from where they'd hid amongst reed and frond to lie in weight... dark stripes blending with lengthy shadow and freckled snowy fur a perfect back drop for their ploy. They thought they could claim land in the dead of winter... thought that anything but subservience was threat? A wicked toothed grin found amusement where a punchline was lacking.

What right did they have... to put ownership on the world in any capacity and proclaim it selfless?

Equally spring-bright eyes flash towards her but not just from the side of her metaphorical moral fence... amongst the RiverClan whelps, a bark-hued coat stands out like a forgotten polaroid. Her whiskers twitch in contempt but she does not hesitate to slink from the darkness the moment her allies rush head first to start their ambush.

"No more fairy tales for you all to hide behind," she murmurs from a throat marred with aged scars. "You'll have no more mercy."

Tufted ears flick at the sound of Oxboxpaw's hissing frustration- a weak spot- and with a joyous, malicious laugh, the tabby dodges narrowly from deftly swiped paws. They are movements clouded by memory... by rage... and she relishes in knowing that weakness can be leveraged. Diving forward when the chance seems right, the marred molly aims to wrap her teeth hungrily around Oxbowpaw's throat, throwing forelegs wide as if to embrace her with gentle death.​

attacking @OXBOWPAW

 

[Hush]

Though Hush did not enjoy being a part of a group and especially not part of one that follows those who think themselves better than others - and that was the impression the tom had gotten from some of those around him, those that led the charges and tried to call the shots - he did enjoy bringing pain to those that he deemed worthy of it, and the clan cats were worthy. Territory claimed and guarded where it was once open, once free for the taking and free to hunt through, to walk through, and now it was claimed and pathways were blocked, routes had to be changed and it had been too long. Far too long.

Thus he had followed those around him, knowing that it was impossible for him to take on so many at once and instead sat within the crowd of hungry cats. Hungry for food, for blood, for vengeance. Quietly he listened as the RiverClanners began to speak in hushed tones, talking of not trusting the quiet, asking what the next steps were, and just as quickly as he had heard those words come from the warrior's maw had the battle begun.

Rushing out from behind grass and reeds the battle-scarred tom moved toward to Gillsight, eyes squinting as four ears pinned the best they could against skull and teeth snapped at the other, looking for any place he could reach, for any chunk of flesh he could dig his teeth into and if successful he would clasp down and shake as he moved back to try to drag the warrior before him away from the others.

OOC : ̗̀➛ NOTES

• attacking @GILLSIGHT

• 

• HUSH NPC x NPC || adopted by Hazel
  -- He/Him || 42 Moons || ages every 1st
  -- large tom, lh tortoishell x blue chimera with duplicated pinnae and large teeth
  -- unsavory, cannibalistic tendencies, enjoys fighting just for fun

​

​

 

[GILLSIGHT]

The birds aren’t singing. Gillsight hadn’t even noticed until Lightningstone mentioned it, and now that the older warrior has, the black and white tom can feel the pit in his stomach growing. Something is wrong here.

Sunlit eyes look to Snakeblink for instruction, one that dies before its order can be given. Silence breaks past their words, a rustle of reeds that gives little warning to the forms that barrel out from behind them. They topple the lead warrior over, turn the silence into something all too loud with their attack.

They’re next. The site of Clayfur’s death will be theirs.

It can’t. It can’t.

With widened eyes and unsheathed claws, Gillsight moves to aid in protecting the apprentices, but such an effort doesn’t go far.

Teeth sink into the scruff of his neck, a shake of his form given. A sharp hiss escapes his maw as he moves, kicking backward at the rogue to escape their grasp. Freed, he twists around to face his opponent — large and big toothed, a cat with two sets of ears — and moves to leap forward with claws aiming to swipe at the beast’s face.

He will not fall to the same fate Clayfur has. He cannot walk the stars without providing justice for the warrior. He can’t.​

✦ ABOUT

• // attacking @Hush
• 

  GILL ‣ GILLPAW ‣ GILLSIGHT
  ── Warrior of RiverClan
  
  ── ??? x ???
  ── AMAB; He/Him
  ── A scarred, black and white tom with yellow eyes.
  ── Mentored by Clearsight
  ── "Speech"; Attack​

​

 

[Dust]

Dust is almost surprised how quickly the fishy brutes acknowledge that something is off due to his and the other’s presences. Maybe they’re smarter than he would give them credit for… it doesn’t matter much though, since they still have the upper hand. He stands as still as possible, waiting for Thistle to make the first move.

Fighting is not especially his forte, as he prefers to be sneaky and use underhanded tactics. Well, maybe he can at least avoid getting hurt too badly…it’s not like he’s that invested into any bloodshed, he just wants food and shelter. He eyes one of the apprentices not spoken for, leaping out and cornering @brookpaw . “Don’t try to flee,” Dust warns her, tone threatening despite how lazy the words sound.​

 

[brookstorm]

The air is cold, however the chill has hardly diminished that which lingered around them. Unfortunately, just as she tastes something unusual and untoward, Snakeblink is shouting, and oily, mangey rogues swim out from the undergrowth. Oxbowpaw is shouting, and Brookpaw can only agree. She's to become a warrior in a few days - a few days! She's not going to run, like a kitten.

Dust slithers in front of her, his actions quick but his tone slow. The grey she-cat wrinkles her nose, "Wasn't planning on it, until your ugly mug decided to get so close." Brookpaw isn't one for chatter, especially during battle, so she's quick to bite it in the butt. The slate-grey she-cat lunges towards the other, aiming to bowl him over, or in the very least knock him off center.

[ attacking @Dust ! ]​

 

[LIGHTNINGSTONE]

His ears flick sideways, picking up the rustles and he listens to the beginning of Snakeblink’s orders that are quickly cut short. Immediately, his pelt bristles and he steps into an easy defensive stance, a guttural snarl cast in the direction of the rogues that stream from the reeds like ants from a hill. The lead warrior’s command is heard as he’s taken to the ground, the silver warrior wanting to help him but knowing his orders are more important. His kits, they're more important. And so he whirls around, snout wrinkled as his teeth lay bared.

Brookpaw lunges for a dust-colored tom, and his muscles twitch in preparation to help her. But in his peripheral vision he sees a tabby lunge for his other daughter, fangs aimed directly for her chestnut throat and he pivots. He leaps through the air to try and tackle her away from Oxbowpaw, and if successful would try to pin her to the ground. The knot in his stomach tells him that he isn't sure if he'd made it in time, so he risks a quick, panicked look back in the cinnamon apprentice's direction.

// attacking @forgiven vengeance ✩ trying to save @OXBOWPAW​

 

[OXBOWPAW]

Her claws meet nothing but air, and things immediately go wrong from there. Oxbowpaw’s movements are strong, but clumsy. Her teeth catch on nothing—tabby-and-white fur evades her on deft paws. “No more fairy tales for you all to hide behind,” she meows, her voice faded and deceptively soft. “You’ll have no more mercy.” Oxbowpaw’s vision clouds with red, with rage, and she stumbles toward the tabby again, attempting to hook her claws into the she-cat’s left shoulder. “I don’t expect mercy from you—I expect a fight!”

Her hiss is cut abruptly short, however—she’s no match for a rogue of this she-cat’s age, of her experience. She finds, too late, the battle scars that litter her opponent’s pelt. There’s a snap, a lunge, and sharp fangs seek the softness of her throat. She barely has time to react—her gasp of pain and surprise gargles, cut short. “No,” she tries to protest, but the word comes out garbled and strained. She reaches for her attacker with feeble paws—out of the corner of one eye, she can see her father, ever the protector, too-late now to save her…

She slips and crumples into a heap, one paw holding the hole in her throat. It’s wet and slick with blood that won’t stop coming. “Nnnnn…” Her protest, again, fizzles. She can’t speak. She can’t do anything—her vision darkens, the red dissipating, the rage replaced by shadows that steal close to her on winged feet. She thinks she sees a pair of eyes among them—but no, no, they’re not eyes, they’re stars.

Oxbowpaw’s head hits the ground, and she does not move again.
​

 

[Thorn]

He would follow his sister to the ends of the world, if it meant protecting her. If it meant that he would be able to die just to keep her alive. It was foolish really, ambushing a patrol of who knows what skill level or of how many- but he would not argue.

They were ruthless, and he trusted Thistle to guide their paws. He'd trust her enough to follow her words rather blindly. Anyone else was lucky to recieve the same treatment. He'd quietly follow the patrol, a smirk on his face just to see her so determined.

It was rather quick, a mere signal that a blink couldve missed it- and Thistle charged headfirst towards one wirey skinny one- and the rest dove in after.

Orange eyes barely kept up, blood spilled and splattered against white snow, before finally he charged foreward. One of theirs had already managed a kill, yet those nasty Riverclanners were still fighting like they had a chance to begin with! Yeah, that sounded cool to say, he had decided, diving foreward to attempt to intercept Lightningstone, hurling bulky body into the other figure and aiming claws and teeth into whatever the tom could manage to grab. "Yall never had a chance!" he'd cackle into the air, wether successful on the attack or not. He hoped that by intercepting the male from forgiven vengeance would be enough to keep him from his ally.

For now... he hoped his sister would fight smart and not get herself injured.

// trying to intercept @LIGHTNINGSTONE from attacking forgiven vengeance

​

 

[forgiven vengeance ✩]

~ 𓆩✧𓆪 ~​

It was no use. Every action that tried to pry itself out of the tar pit that was fate only made the inevitable closer. Lightningstone lunged at her as teeth found a comfortable, wet warmth in Oxbowpaw's throat. It ran rivers of red, a wine aged to perfection... not old enough to be engrossed in the sins of her clans but not so young for this killing to feel cruel. She was giving her a gift, the tabby thought to herself as she pulled away with a rose-spattered maw, teeth stained red as a brilliant smile lit up her face.

"You're free now," she starts to say as a weight like a boulder crashes into her side and rips her away before she can make this quick. Before she can ease the dilute furred girl into a peaceful slumber rather than one gurgled against in vain struggle. The tom that lands on her is weighted by more than just the muscles that ripple under his fur... His eyes are heavy with grief- he sees death in every corner. This was not his first failure... but she'd do her best to make sure it was his last. No need to suffer any longer.

"No need to check- you'll join her soon," her hiss is a slithering thing, lilting towards hymn rather than threat. She was helping them. She was generous to bestow her sharp pity upon their necks. Looking away... maybe it was better. It would give him the chance to die staring at something he loved-- someone.

Pristine white paws move with careful speed, digging ivory claws into thick winter-heavy coat to shred his windpipe. They could match in death... could go there together. It was the forgiveness she chose to give them. Her pity was a treasure given to few...

"Better cradle her in your arms now... you won't get to again."

// attacking @LIGHTNINGSTONE​

 

[THISTLE.]

( ✧ ) the patrol collapses into chaos as the rogues dance out of the rushes, glee on their faces. she hears ven murmuring cruelties, sees hush snapping sharp teeth at a black and white riverclanner, feels her heart leap at the sound of thorn's cackle. she bowls into snakeblink, closing her jaw around the man's shoulder and biting hard as he scrabbles beneath her, teeth snapping close to her ear. one tabby and white paw lashes up, claws raking across her bad eye and she giggles. "missed my good one, little warrior!" she'll inform him, spitting his own blood back onto him, staining snowy fur.

stepping back for a moment to catch her breath, she lashes her tail, prowling around snakeblink, before she darts in again, aiming to sweep his legs from under him. behind her, an apprentice hits the ground to move no more and thistle laughs. it's a harsh and exciting noise, her laugh, chillingly sincere. she throws her head back, uncaring that she's exposed her throat for the tomcat to lunge at. "oh well done, ven!" she'll call, eye alight with green flame. "rogues, we're done here! let them lick their pathetic wounds."

she'll spin, kicking muddied snow up into snakeblink's face with a snarl. "see you soon, darling." thistle melts back into the trees, trusting her fellow rogues will follow her or die. riverclan is powered by revenge now- the death of the young one has confirmed it, and she's certainly not willing to stick around to be taken vengeance upon. there'll be other patrols to terrorize.

// out! rogues are free to retreat as well! (rip oxbowpaw you'll be missed) ​