pafp CRIMSON CLOVER [ ambush ]

[LIGHTNINGSTONE]

Another rogue’s claws and fangs rip into his shoulder and the back of his neck, casting blood down his forelegs but he doesn’t stop. He barrels into the she-cat, and despite her words he looks anyway. “NO!” His screech is deafening as he helplessly watches his daughter crumple to the ground, the life draining from her eyes. Blood roars in his ears as he stares, tears readily coming to the corners of his eyes. He’d failed her, just like he’d failed Meadowheart. Bloodlust melts into his hazel gaze as he turns back on the she-cat below him. A heavy forepaw is thrown at her face, her chest, anywhere he can land his ivory claws. And if he hits, he will hit hard, his claws sinking deep, but his snarl is cut short.

His throat and chest suddenly feel so wet. Slowly, he looks down, and the crimson that stains his silver chest makes his head swim. It puddles on the ground, surrounding his paws, and he stumbles back, away from it but it follows him. I see. It’s mine, isn’t it? He’s been defeated. Cradle her, The rogue says in a sickeningly taunting voice, and she is right. The next time he sees Oxbowpaw, it will be in the stars.

He turns to her, silence hanging in the air as he stumbles to her bloodied, still body. He falls to her, his breaths gasping, his eyes darkening. A forepaw is draped over her back, his head resting on her scruff. As blood dribbles from the side of his mouth, his eyes find his last remaining child. For a moment, nothing but a gurgling sound leaves him, but he finds the strength to speak his last words to her. “Live,” He tells Brookpaw, the one who’d always looked the most like him when the others had nothing but their beautiful mother in them. “If there is……one good thing…..left in this world…….it’s you.” I’m sorry, Buckgait. Our last daughter will have to be alone, now. I’m so sorry.

But as he slips into darkness, he finds he doesn’t hold the same fear of this world he once did. He knows she has RiverClan. This place, under Smokestar, is a home he can finally put his faith in. He can die knowing they will take care of her, and she will go on to live a good life here. Finally, he knows that.

The last thing he sees before he shuts his eyes is a starry tabby pelt, sapphire eyes gazing down at him. “Rainwhisker….”

// he gone ;-;​

 

[Dust]

It isn't long before the RiverClan apprentice springs into action, and since Dust still isn't a fighter at heart, the slam successfully hits. It's not enough to knock him down fully, but it still hurts in a way he's not used to. What brutes… he knows he can't waste a second, but he still has to take a second to breathe before he moves further.

Other things happen in the blink of an eye, though. One of the younger cats drops dead, killed by a rogue older than her. It's not a pretty sight, and it makes him reconsider everything. This is…a little too much, right? Of course, as Dust thinks that, the sound of his mother's voice rings in his ears, telling him how pathetic he is for not being able to defend himself. It's not like that…

He hates how quickly his heart leaps as a retreat is called, and then one more RiverClanner falls to the hands of his own. A little more excusable, but his stomach churns. No, it’s time to move, now. Dust forces himself to be strong, bravely turning his back on Brookpaw despite how ouch family she just lost, booking it out of there.

// OOC : Out! ​

 

[Snakeblink]

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

His flailing hits flesh but it’s not enough to drive his enemy back, barely enough to hurt her. The rogue taunts him, voice lilting in humor, as he uselessly traces their matching scar with the tip of his claws. The blood she spits on him is still warm from his own veins. He rolls to his paws in fear of another blow at his stomach, eyes sweeping the clearing in listless movements — lingering on Oxbowpaw then widening as another rogue pulls her down with teeth and claws, tearing into her thin throat and splattering the ground with her blood. Lightningstone’s bulk covers the sight as the tom throws himself at his daughter’s attacker with a scream that seems to tear itself out of his chest.

A sweep at his paws sends Snakeblink stumbling, nearly crashing down. He shakes himself, bristling with grief and rage as the rogue laughs — laughs! baring his throat in mirth as one of his clanmates lay bleeding in the dirt—

But he is too far, too flat-pawed, too slow: she turns as he pounces and he can only snap at her tail before getting a faceful of dirty snow that has him spluttering. He shakes himself, snarling, turning to help Lightningstone—

Finding nothing left to help, nothing but the taciturn warrior lying over the body of his lifeless daughter, blood rusting the paler fur at his neck. Mirror images of death with torn throats and bloodied lips. And standing over them is a sight so familiar it steals Snakeblink’s breath away next, just one moment. Poison green burning above a cruel grimace, the shadows of a dark mantle lying over back and shoulders… He knows these eyes even though they peer at him from a stranger’s face. ”Who…” A mutter, meant only for himself, shaken out of his throat by horror and grief.

Then, like his reflection on the river’s surface, it ripples and breaks apart. She is neither ghost nor mirror; just a murderer with a pelt that looks like his.

Still Snakeblink keeps his eyes trained on her as he backs away, watching for a sign that she might try to sate her thirst on the blood of a third Riverclanner by going after him, before he spins in a tight circle. He is not running, not this time; unless one counts his grief, which he pushes back desperately by throwing himself at the last rogue still fighting. He goes low, aiming to sink his teeth into the large tom’s hindpaw and tighten his jaws until the rogue drops or the bone snaps.
​

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

ooc. information.

• helping Gillsight, attacking @Hush
  
• 
  
  
  — 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
  
  
  

​

​

 

[Hush]

Teeth connect with flesh and Hush pulls and shuffles back for as long as he's able to before feet connect with body and the large tom lets go, watching as Gillsight twists around to face his opponent. Quickly Hush jumps back to avoid the attack the other is aiming before he hears the sound of retreat, of his fellow rogues that he'd followed here moving out and leaving and Hush attempts to go too but before he can he feels teeth connect with his hind paw and a growl of annoyance and pain escape's the beast's throat before he pulls and twists, attempting to slash and smack at Snakeblink's head to try to get free, and when the other does finally lose his grip on the tom's hind-leg Hush finds himself following after the others, annoyed and with his goal of death not yet being reached.

OOC : ̗̀➛ NOTES

• 

• 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

​

​

 

[brookstorm]

They're almost warriors. They're not the petty apprentices that they were before, when Meadowheart was felled. Smokestar likely had their destinies on the tip of his tongue, waiting for them to return home victorious. They are strong, they are sturdy.

They are splintering. They are falling apart. The tom she grapples with holds his own, staring towards her with apprehension whilst she waits to trade blows - but in the time she's patient, the chaos around her shreds her world to pieces. Oxbowpaw collapses and she witnesses her father as he falls, too, coated in the same burgundy ichor. Her pupils are pinpointed, shaking, darting between the fallen bodies of her family and the wicked, wretched thing that tore them from her.

"I -" her voice comes out hoarse, and she stumbles past Dust, "I'm - I'm going to kill you! I'm going to kill you!" Her words raise in volume, in desperation, in disquieted terror. Someone calls for a retreat on their end and one by one do the wretched beasts slink back to whatever hell they've come from. She would've followed them too, tears burning trails down her cheeks, if not for her father's rasping voice at her heels.

She spins and looks at him, and she's furious - "No -" she says, demands - "No, you can't go. You can't, you can't you can't youcan'tyou-" Brookpaw slides down, from paws to elbows, elbows to belly. She holds taloned paws over his wounds feverishly as she sobs, "Dad, please, please," she's sobbing and she can't see how red her paws are becoming. "Stay - stay with me, stay for me. Fox-dung, stop leaving me-!"

His eyes have already turned to a figure she cannot see. Live, for he doesn't anymore. Live, for no one else will. Live, because she is alone, and what else is she to do?

"Why is no one helping me!?" she's screaming, paws clutching her father desperately close.​