border FLOWER, GLEAM AND GLOW [joining]

[FIONA]

⋆*・ﾟ Run!

A single word echoes in her head, drowning out all other coherent thoughts. White paws slam against the ground at inconsistent intervals, all grace lost in her mad scramble to get away, get away, get away. Her flanks heave with effort, each step bringing a new gasp for breath that seems to be rushing away faster than she can catch it. The two street cats, brutes who’d chased her halfway across twolegplace, tear across the grass behind her, right at her heels and snarling with rage. She can still hear their hisses, the betrayal that had lined both their voices like razor-sharp teeth. She might be killed if they catch her—they’re so angry, they don’t even seem to care that she’s carrying kits. They’ll pursue her like hounds until her legs finally give out… and then what? She doesn’t want to find out.

Her erratic fleeing has led her straight into the trees, where she’d hoped to lose them. She’s never been this far outside of the safety of paved roads and impenetrable fences before. And if she’s never been this far out, then maybe they haven’t, either. Maybe she has a chance. She can still hear the pounding of heavy footfalls, so close behind and getting even closer. They’re gaining on her, gaining on her-

And then, the mostly-white molly scents something odd. Cat scent… and a lot of it. It’s clearly some kind of marker, or a warning, plain and simple: do not trespass. Her paws skid to a stop, and in the distance she can see an unfamiliar figure. "Help… please, help me," she calls out, begs the first cat she spots on the other side of the scent markings. A quick glance back in the direction she’d come from, and then Fiona turns to stare wide-eyed and panicked at the stranger once more. "They…" the girl sucks in a breath, panic lighting in green eyes. She hears one of the toms call out her name, his voice grating—threatening. Her own voice drops to a whisper as she cries out, "You can’t let them find me, please!" Fat tears already roll down her face, sniffles escaping her as she attempts to hold herself together long enough to secure help in the form of these cats who live behind a scent barrier.

we’re in the fog ☾ ⋆*・ﾟ in the flame

• ooc: feel free to powerplay injuring or chasing away the two enemy cats if you want!!
• 
• FIONA ☾ she/her, twolegplace loner, ex-kittypet
  ★ short and slim, with chocolate tabby patches in winglike shapes over a pristine white coat. soft-voiced but outgoing, friendly to nearly everyone.
  ★ sister to quillstrike (not public knowledge) ; currently pregnant
  ★ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ★ penned by foxlore

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[Batscreech]

Bat was sitting patiently on the ground at the base of a tree as @ThistleBack clawed his way further up into the canopy with practiced ease. It didn't take long for his newfound teacher to figure out where Bat's strengths and weaknesses lie- and climbing was without a doubt the one thing he could hardly even attempt. He had never needed to learn, having been from the city- if you wanted some high ground, just find a set of stairs to take you as far up to any industrialized brick building that you wanted to go. It was an unfortunate liability now that he had joined SkyClan, the bulk of its ranks boasting quite the impressive ability to scale any tree with effortless grace, no matter how high.

Thistleback was droning on about something- Bat wasn't really sure what, he didn't have the mental capacity to care. Disinterest was something he defaulted to over almost anything, though there would be the occasional topic in which he truly did lend an ear. He was sure Thistleback could pick up on his spacey mind- his eyes would often take on a glassy sheen paired with frequent grunts of feigned acknowledgement in between verbal pauses. There was one now, a pause, his subconscious picking up on the silence and preparing to offer yet another display of false agreement-

Please, help me!

That wasnt his voice. It wasn't Thistleback's voice either. Actually, he didnt recognize it at all, and at this point he had begin to solidify the differences in vocal range that paired with the many different faces of the cats who made up SkyClan. It immediately put him on high alert, springing to his paws with a start, his eyes wide with a furrowed brow that signified wary inquisition. Scanning the terrain before him, he craned his neck and squinted- three small figures on the horizon, steadily growing in size as they barreled closer, their frenzied steps thumping heavily against the hardened ground.

You can't let them find me, please!

After the second desperate cry, it was clear that this wasn't any ordinary case of a townie seeking an adventure in clan ranks. Without further hesitation- and without a word of warning to Thistleback- Bats limbs cranked into motion, his strides slow and steady at first, pacing himself, before quickly picking up an alarming amount of speed. His head was tilted downwards, ears flattened against his head as the wind roared through it, legs taking elongated strides as if he were barely touching the ground at all- the world was a blur as he closed into the unidentified aggressors, surpassing his clanmates with ease.

Adjusting his position, he didnt yield as he barreled at full force into the snarling cat closest to him- the two of them rolling at an unfathomable velocity down the gentle slope that connected the twolegplace to the SkyClan border. A flurry of fur, teeth, and claws, the enemy was floored with a sickening thunk from the intense collision- the power behind it caused moreso from swift momentum than physical prowess. Nevertheless, it was a successful tackle, and it didnt take long for the sound of battle to split the air.​

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[Fireflyglow]

Fireflyglow never fought. He often avoided patrols during the day when he could, but when Dawnglare didn't feel like going on an herb patrol during the day, he had went himself with a small patrol. To avoid the rogues that swarmed their lands, to avoid having to run away like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. He was no coward, but he didn't like to fight.

The wail of a she-cat catches his attention as he sifts through marigold sprouting from the ground, settling the herbs down onto the ground and rushing through the foliage. He can hear claws tearing at the ground, sinking into skin and fur as growls rip through the air. Fireflyglow skids to a halt at the molly's side, winding himself around her protectively as his fur fluffs up to twice its normal size. A loud, threatening hiss leaves his throat to tell these idiots to piss off already.

"You are in SkyClan's lands now. Leave, or you'll be gutted like a fish and left to die!" He snaps towards one of the foreign cats, baring his teeth as blind blue eyes flick open. This one was small, this she-cat. But she was obviously terrified. He presses his side to her own, looking down towards her with a soft smile- very different from the threatening snarl he had mere seconds ago. "You are safe here for now." He rumbles softly, moving to gently lead her away from the fight and into the foliage. His head turns towards an apprentice running to join the fight, the fur along his spine still high. "Go get Cherryblossom or a lead warrior. Now."​

SKYCLAN MEDICINE CAT ✦ 24 MOONS ✦ CHUNKY, BIG-FOOTED SEAL POINT ✦ TAGS​

 

[oakrumble]

cw for slight gore!!

ᯓ⚘ Fiery fur crisscrosses between pine trees, heavyset paws bounding after a squirrel too stupid to know that their best escape was upwards (though even this may be a futile attempt.) Muscles bunch and with the force from powerful hindquarters, Oakrumble leaps forward and lands just a hairsbreadth from their near victim. An unsuccessful hunt, the stout she-cat skids across nettle-laden ground. The squirrel's across the border now, likely to be roadkill sometime soon. An embarrassing failure, witnessed by the hunting patrol she is accompanying. It is to be quickly forgotten though.

Help... please, help me. Oakrumble's mangled ears swivel and they swing their broad head towards where the plea for help came from, just three Monster-lengths away... a young molly, toms hot on her pristine white heels. Oakrumble did not desire to know a story, she recognizes trouble at once. There can be no justification, in Oakrumble's mind, for these two miscreants to be chasing after this stranger, not with the sheer fear on their face... Oakrumble payed no heed to the fact the molly was pregnant, she's not the kind to tell anyways. No, either way, there were injustices occurring. She swings around to catch the eye of Doeblaze, as though confirming what their next course of action will be. There's no doubt in Oakrumble's mind that they'll have the same idea.

Claws unsheathe from wide paws, penetrating the forest floor before Oakrumble lurches forward. A bristling mass, hurtling towards one of the toms. Rest assured, she will not fail this time at the hunt. Oakrumble careens forward, inhales deeply and then vaults forward, using the strength of her hindlegs. She throws herself onto the smaller pursuer, jaws unhinged to grab onto the side of their neck and impale fang-like teeth into malleable skin. Forearms hook around their shoulders, and with the momentum of her leap and the sheer weight of herself, she manhandles them into the forest ground. Oakrumble sees in their peripheral the newcomer, Bat, engage in battle with the other one. Makin' themselves useful... at last...

No time to think of Bat's shortcomings. Blood waterfalls into her mouth and she disengages, spatting blood onto and into the eyes of the struggling tom. A dirty tactic, but extremely useful. Beneath her hefty paws the tom flails with outreached claws, ripping in the thick fur of Oakrumble. Surface level wounds. She snarls, pearly whites stained red, before attempting to gnash them into the throat of the tom-- but this proves to be unsuccessful as the tom digs their talons into her chin, pulling down for maximum damage, causing Oakrumble to rear back with another snarl, "D-damn!" Pain wells where the claws struck and tears bubble in her tear ducts. Her boulder-like grasp on the tom is lost and the male wriggles away and Oakrumble watches with furious dismay as he scurries away, just as the squirrel had done. Well, makes her feel better to know there's a chunk missin' from the blue and white tom's neck.

Oakrumble whips around, breathing heavily with blood running down her chin wound and chest, ochre eyes frenzied. She spats out blood and makes sure the other one is being dealt with; the battling cats do not need her assistance, though she does not think she can be of much help. The fiery she-cat stalks back over the Skyclan border, tail lashing stormily. She pauses in front of Fireflyglow and the newcomer. "Welcome... name's Oakrumble." Oakrumble casts a cloudy glance to the medic, "Think... I ought to be seen to, back at camp." She shifts her attention back to the stranger, eyes softening. It embarrasses her that she had to see her in such... a way. First impressions are important. Oakrumble nods and presses next to her, she'll protect the two if trouble returned. "We've got your back."

ᯓ⚘ ‘cause i could lose it all

• ooc–
  
• OAKRUMBLE —— skyclan warrior, she/her or they/them, 56 moons
  
  

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[DOEBLAZE]

The day is fair and warm, the sky painted a pastoral blue, though the mild weather is not enough to ease Doeblaze into anything akin to relaxation as she pads near the Twolegplace border in search of prey - scent, Primrose and Cloudypaw flanking her. The trio of them are old paws at this border by now, and the joiners that it brings with it—but blessedly, not the threats that her Clanmates and Orangestar alike have weathered over the past moons. She leads the two along the scent line on the ground, her footfalls as brisk and unflinching as they might have been in the boughs above. It would be a lie to say she is not excited for the day her apprentices can join her in the trees in full.

The artificial scent of Twolegplace is what first catches her attention, keen pink nose twitching—and then the sound of panicked footfalls ripples to torn ears. She picks up the pace, swishing her tail for her apprentices to follow her, and speeds up further when she catches the sight of a tabby - splotched loner hurling herself towards them, staring at the smattering of patrol members as if they are her only hope. She is barely short of clinging to Doeblaze in her cries for assistance, sucking in harsh breaths and fixing her with wide, panicked green eyes—the sight is needlingly painful in its familiarity.

Confusion strikes her for a moment until a pair of snarling figures manifest over the green slope of the earth, spitting and hissing in a way that makes Doeblaze's hackles rise into wolfish spikes. Whatever their issue, there is no reason to be chasing anyone around like this—reducing her to the tearful cat who begs her hunting patrol, Oakrumble chief among them, for help. Perhaps she's too trusting, but the teary loner hardly seems like a threat—if anything, she seems to be fleeing one.

" Yes—yes, of course, we'll help you, " she assures the younger cat in tandem with Fireflyglow, a couple quick steps placing her compact body before Fiona's, alongside the medicine cat. She is no lead warrior, not anymore ( as are very few of them, now ), but she does not think anyone among their ranks would be so callous as to refuse this poor soul. Except maybe Chrysaliswing. " One of you two do as Fireflyglow says, " she mrrows to her pair of apprentices with a sharp jerk of her head.

Bat streaks past so quickly her eye can hardly follow him—apparently his venomous tongue isn't the only thing that moves quicker than it should—and bowls over one of the stranger's pursuers, the pair rolling away in a flurry of teeth and claws and flying fur. Oakrumble, too, charges forth, and Doeblaze opts to leave the fighting to those better suited for it, moving to pad at Fireflyglow's side as he begins to guide the stranger away from the impromptu fight and further into the safety of the pines. The stout warrior joins them a moment later, blood oozing down her chest.

" That we do, " she agrees hoarsely, her own momentary ripple of adrenaline giving way to level - heased surety. " Oh, damn, yeah— " the tabby swears, processing the blood that coats Oakrumble is, in part, her own. Fireflyglow is present, but without his arsenal of herbs and the comfort of camp's safety that Oakrumble deserves after her admirable work driving off one of the rogues. Besides, it couldn't hurt to check up on the poor stranger . . . she looks slightly plump in a way that pings as familiar in Doeblaze's mind.

" Run ahead and let Dawnglare know what's coming, please, " she asks of her other apprentice, her jaw tightening slightly at the mention of the fox - striped medicine cat's name. Turning back towards Fiona, who no doubt looks a little overwhelmed, she rasps assuredly, " Our warriors can handle them. "

OOC : —

♥︎

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[ThistleBack]

" the fuck did I just say " he grits his teeth, having instructed Bat to stay at the bottom of the tree in case the squirrel climbed down instead of out. He watches the earthen hued tom bolt away, Thistleback growls and disengages the hunt. Whipping on his heels. Kicking off the branches, sailing the canopy with ease, nails scraping bark and limbs swaying with his quick jumps that send him across the skies. Grey eyes flitting downward to track his apprentice’s movements. That’s when he sees two rogues running in pursuit, and Bat alongside Oakrumble meeting them head-on. The strays are no match for the duo, caterwauls and flying claws split the scene violently.

Fireflyglow and Doeblaze ushering a patch-coated stranger into the veil of the forestry, to safety. Thistleback descends, running down the evergreen and landing with a thud. He can see, one flees with a bloodied neck the other after being blown over by Bat, would be smart to join them. Oakrumble’s chin and chest, wet with ichor from their valiant efforts. The piebald speaks with firm admiration, " well done warrior, well done. " he merely glances at the stranger and trots toward his temp-apprentice, muzzle pulled in a snarl should the rogue not flee. An unwise decision, it’d cost its life.

" Bat are you hurt? " he scans the hazel coat of bat, sidling up to him. His voice yielding concern despite its harsh baritone.

⛤ OOC INFORMATION REFERENCE ⛤

• —
  
  
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  forty-eight mns. EVENT TRACKER | IMPORTANT INFO
  — Former Lead warrior of Skyclan 12.22.22 - 06.2023
  — Father of Coyotecrest, Eveningsun and Scorpionpaw
  — mentoring Teeveepaw formerly Snowpath & Quillstrike
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
  — voice & accent
  — biography･ﾟ✧​
  OPEN for Dice battles | stine#3004
  
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[Batscreech]

OOC: Tw/Cw for violent descriptions

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The world faded into nothing but incomprehensible shapes and colors as the tussle continued, the sound of battle a mere buzz that pressed against his dulled mind. Oakrumble yowled from somewhere behind him, Doeblaze's urgent but reassuring mew extending comfort to the poor soul who had descended upon them in such a dramatic way, and the sound of paws desperately pounding against a bedding of grass and soil as one of the two attackers fled from the scene. None of it stuck in Bat's mind, fleeting as the midsummer wind beneath his own fight for survival.

Bat landed on top of the assailant, being given the leverage needed to claw and snap at sensitive ears and exposed neck- surface wounds, mere warnings to signify a merciful outcome should they do well to flee. Bat allowed himself to be thrown off at the kick of legs from below him, twisting his body so that he would land steadily on his four paws, blood stained claws gripping the earth that grounded him. There was a moments pause as the two locked eyes, Bat's unnaturally vacant looking despite the others so sharp with adrenaline, and...bloodlust. A gaze that would not yield would surely possess a body to match, and match it did.

The two were quickly locked within one another's hold once more, fur flying and blood splattering across previously pristine and undisturbed grass. Bat would jump back in calculated intervals, just avoiding any ravage to his vital points, before jumping in again to rake his own sharpened talons against face, chest and side. With repetitive motions and infinite patience, the adversary tired of the same dance, and as they prepared to lunge with full force, Bat was given the opening he had been hoping for. Body flying through the air with paws outstretched, Bat would jump swiftly to the side before whirling around at a velocity strong enough to cause whiplash- ramming himself into an individual already succumbing to their own stagger and throwing them to the ground beneath. Mercy had been offered before, but no longer. They had not deserved it in the first place anyways, for there is nothing so wicked as to prey upon those incapable of defending themselves. It was the way of a rogue he supposed, though he himself had never once agreed with it- even in his own unsavory life on the streets of red.

It was quick, but not painless. The feline beneath him nearly squirming from underneath Bat's hardened grasp, to which he would entertain- but only momentarily- as he dug his unguis into crimson stained flanks and dragged them back to the ground. He continued to tear into the stranger, one paw after the other sliding effortlessly across soft skin and taught muscles, inching closer and closer to their upturned neck before grasping their jugular. Pulling them backwards with as much force as Bat could muster given his small frame, he would slice through vital protective tendons, the snap of their severing connection audible, splitting the very windpipe, inching along and refusing to stop until meeting the tip of a chin.

His method ensured they would be defenseless, positioned with his full weight upon their back and tilting their head back towards him so that their eyes may meet for the final time, the careen of their head leaving their isthmus was exposed in its entirety. It was dirty, an unfair and self-taught tactic, yet another reminder of what he used to be and very well may remain to some extent for the rest of his life. He used it against him that night, the outcome entirely the same despite one being infinitely more violent, a plague against his heart, mind and soul so long as he had the mental capacity to recall it. And as he sheathed his claws and removed himself from the top of the newly made corpse, he swore he saw him then. A thunk of a limp and hollow head hitting hardened ground, body mangled and discolored by a mixture of blood belonging to themselves and another- they would intertwine in that way, every kill a moment of connection. You will remember them all, you will know the sound of their defeat and the creases of their body as they writhe, you will smell their fear and taste their iron, just as they will experience with you, a mirror effect.

Bat, are you hurt?

Thistleback's hardened call hailed him from behind, concern etching his voice. It only partially brought Bat back to the present reality, the adrenaline and fog fading at an insufferably slow pace. He was visibly shaking then, and he found himself unable to respond nor peel his gaze away from the lifeless frame only mere inches ahead of him. "Hurt...?" It was a mere whisper, and would have surely gone unheard had Thistleback not closed in at Bat's side. His viridian eyes were glossed over in a haze, draining them of color, wider than they ever had been before- which was, admittedly- not very much, but enough for a keen eye to make note of.

The brush of Thistleback's pelt was enough to bring him back around, his shadowed optics slowly clearing as they met the monochrome toms own. "Ya what...? Oh- N-nah I'm...I'm right as rain, mate." For the first time since he had joined the ranks of SkyClan, he expressed some level of genuine fear that had yet to be showcased- a jarring and unfamiliar contrast to his typical neutrality or sharp-tongued sarcasm. This would remain as it was for the time being, for he turned to make his way back towards whatever remained of their patrol, Bat's pace unsteady as his body continued to quake and caused him to continuously stumble.​

 

[FIONA]

⋆*・ﾟ Thankfully, her wet-eyed expression sins enough to convince the strangers to help her. One goes streaking past in a blur of dark fur, unrecognizable from a bird flying past or the pointed form of a twolegplace dog running for food. Panicked leaf-green eyes follow after the cat for as long as she can, until he crashes into the broad-shouldered brute draped in thick cinnamon fur. Godfrey—she wants to call his name, to beg him to stop, but there’s nothing that she can do. He wants to kill her, and surely he’d break away from his fight just to finish the job if she were to get too close. He doesn’t give up as he’s battered by the stranger, hard-headed as he is, and despite his size he seems to be quickly losing his battle. Her view of the fight is quickly cut off as a second stranger rushes to her side, tan fur surrounding her like a shield of tree-bark armor. The tom who curves his form around her seems powerful, although when Fiona turns to look up at his face… he has no eyes. Scars carve across the spaces where his eyes should be, and the girl wonders—was she right to ask these cats for their help? But then his eyes doblink open, revealing pale blue, and he hisses for her pursuers to leave or else be gutted like fish.

Quickly another cat joins her side, and she’s ushered away into the scent-marked territory. The tom assures her that she’s safe, and the gruesomely-scarred lilac molly who presses herself close also claims that they’ll have her back. The fur along her back prickles anxiously—why are both her new companions sporting eye wounds? These cats must be battle-hungry and aggressive, to bear this many wounds. Given the way that they’d threatened the two toms, perhaps they’re just strongly defensive of their territory. "Thank… thank you," she breathes out, shakily. These strangers seem dangerous in their own right, and that frightens her. But they had saved her from the duo who had chased her all the way here, and exhaustion pulls at her slightly rounded frame. She needs to rest… and trusting these cats is her only option.

Still, when one of them approaches suddenly, fur coated with blood that’s clearly not all from her own body, Fiona instinctively takes a clumsy step backward. She’s injured, asking for assistance once they return to… camp. But hadn’t she charged for the blue-pointed tom? Had she… had she killed him? "What—what did he do to you?" She should put herself first. She shouldn’t be concerned for this stranger’s—Oakrumble’s—well-being, even after they had defended her. But… she can’t be that cruel. She can’t put aside her worry for others so easily.

we’re in the fog ☾ ⋆*・ﾟ in the flame

• ooc: —
• 
• FIONA ☾ she/her, twolegplace loner, ex-kittypet
  ★ short and slim, with chocolate tabby patches in winglike shapes over a pristine white coat. soft-voiced and outgoing.
  ★ sister to quillstrike
  ★ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ★ penned by foxlore

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[QUILLSTRIKE]

IF THE POINT'S TO NEVER DISAPOINT YOU, SOMEBODY'S GOT TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO​

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There were very few things that Quillstrike was actually able to contribute to the clan outside of his body; his claws and his fangs and the willingness to use them was all he really had to offer the clan. Killing prey, dealing with threats, hauling supplies, and fixing up nests and den walls. He didn’t have the charisma or social streak that lived in so many of his other clanmates, and so what he lacked in that department he made sure to compensate for in his workload. Thts why, in his free time, rather than hang out in camp with friends and loved ones, he was more often than not training his body or prowling the territory for something to do. With the most recent influx of attacks and deaths at the paws of the rogues, that ‘something to do’ had quickly turned into extra patrols along the border.

Where the sound of a fight exploded up ahead.

By the time he arrived, dropping down from a nearby pine to join his clanmates, things had been wrapped up. He tried to ignore the disappointment he felt at not having arrived in time to be a part of it, reminding himself it was a good thing that there’d been a patrol nearby to deal with it. Thistle was checking on Bat, and Oakrumble was injured. Fireflyglow, Doeblaze were okay.. The headcount was a subconscious thing, scanning clanmates to see who was present only to land on an unfamiliar shecat wedged between the medicine cat and Doeblaze. Was she the cause of all this? A victim of the rogues, or one playing wolf in sheeps clothing?

He frowned, and made his way over to where his clanmates were gathered around the newcomer only for his paws to grind to a halt a few paces away as a sick sense of familiarity rose up in his gut. He stood there, staring, waiting for something to tell him he was mistaken; a patch of incorrectly coloured fur, the wrong eye color, anything.

But she was exactly the same.

Bigger, for sure, older, because so much fucking time had passed, but.. That was her.

”Fiona?” his confusion was pretty damn obvious, but beneath it was something else, something that almost bordered on hopefulness.

He hadn’t seen her since she was just a small kit, but he remembered her. How could he not? He’d left for her. So that her life wasn’t just one big shit show watching their dad scream at him and freak out on their mom.

So she could have the happy family he never got.

He’d never thought he’d see her again, having written that part of his life off as something he couldn’t be a part of and hoping that it would be better for them all. But here she was, grown up and scared, standing right in front of him.

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skyclan - male - 30 months (Feb 17th) - mated to Twitchbolt - a very tall, muscular chimera with mismatched eyes and several scars. has bluejay feathers woven like spikes along his spine and neck.