camp GAME ╱ PUT TO SEA ´ˎ˗

[SUNNVAR]

Though the winds have barely settled since their return from RiverClan's border, the stick that Sunstride sets in the dirt is a hefty one, and his mind is in need of distraction. This storm will take neither from him. Near the dip of camp, where they are most sheltered from the winds, Sunstride gathers a pile of stones. Grass that snaps against the wind, a heavy stick that points in a direction unknown– himself, and his stones. All that he needs. Slowly the warrior rolls his pile a few paces back, until several tail-lengths rest between them and the stick. He remembers learning this game many moons ago, and how terrible he had been at first. First he lacked strength, and then control. Both were as impossible to learn as the other, but his father had lent him some in moments of peace. Beside is far greater form, he met his first failure and his first success both.

Alone and far away as he is, Sunstride still feels his towering ghost as if he is small again. One strike of his paw, and the first stone dances across the uneven moorland earth. Head over heel it tumbles and sways, and falls flat against the muted green. Its end is not quite level with the stick. He grunts in low irritation before trying again. This one is heavier, well-smoothed and an even gray in color. Beneath his paw it feels pleasantly cool. With greater power, he pushes again. This one flies– without the former's jagged edges, there is no wobble to its motion. It goes and it goes. Right past the stick. This time he cannot contain his displeasure to a grunt. Sunstride's sigh is loud and harsh, though tailed by a helpless chuckle. It has been far too long, he knows.

＞ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES REFERENCE 05.28.2023 〙ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. approx. 40 moons old. lead warrior of windclan + former rogue.
  —— gay, but somewhat closeted. will not be open about his interests.  single, will be so.
  —— seems comparatively stranger than who he was some moons ago, serious and cool.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.

• "speech"

​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 Wolfsong had not been very fond of this game when he was younger— and in truth, it is still not among his favorites. That may seem odd given it would appeal to both an awareness of strength and a meticulous strike, both aspects Wolfsong respects, but perhaps it is simply colored by an old jealousy. He had watched Sunstride play with his father and wished that he could play with his own father— but also that his father had been more like Sunstride's. Strong. Brave, lacking cowardice.

Those traits seemed to lessen as they aged.

"The only game at which you've beaten me," Wolfsong rasps with a warm chuckle, sitting close by. "Though at this rate, perhaps I could beat you after all."
​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

When Rattleheart had been a kit, he'd grown used to the abandoned badger's den that he and his siblings had called home. It had been an isolated home, sure, but a home nonetheless. Unfortunately, the relative lack of company had meant that he didn't play very many games growing up - that wasn't to say he and Scorchstreak had never played games together. It had just been more of a rare occasion sort of thing, and Rattle was sure Windclan kits these days saw far more opportunities to goof off and relax than he and Scorchstreak ever had. Though that wasn't something he was bitter over. He wanted children like Scorchkit, Rumblekit, Frostkit and Luckykit to have the opportunity to just be kits. To have chances to not worry about the constant stresses it felt Windclan was under these days.

It had taken some time for the tom to finally settle following the patrol's recent gruesome return, and he still felt slightly on edge as he approached where Sunstride and Wolfsong stood. Wolfsong's warm rasp caused Rattleheart's ears to flick back momentarily, stunned by how the other seemed so calm. There was some annoyance bubbling in his chest, but he shoved that down before he said something he shouldn't have. Deep down inside the tunneler knew he wasn't truly angry at Wolfsong. Instead he was envious, wishing that he could let recent events rest so quickly instead of dwelling on them even when things were calm. His mind had an unfortunate tendency to dwell, no matter how much he fought against it.

Forcing himself to take a breath and settle his own ruffled fur, Rattleheart settled nearby and watched Sunstride's actions curiously. The game was unfamiliar to him, head bobbing over to one side as he questioned, "What are the rules?" Though his innocent query was soon followed by a rush of embarrassed heat beneath the fur of his face. Was that a ridiculous question? He bet even some kits knew the rules of whatever Sunstride was playing.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[HEATHCLAW.]

The wind was a tangible buffer against the WindClan alongside the other batterings. Physical– a death taken by marshland claws and RiverClan's weary, rearing heads. The struggle is nothing new. He's lived through times with more strife than this; bears the markings of those claws, still. He's learned that moments of lightheartedness were a key part of not crumbling to it all.

He's long past the point of not mindin' the wind. Even a stature above a good portion of WindClan, he'd rather duck away from the bluster. Outtings on the moor no longer feel like a long - practiced thing for him. Suddenly he's a fresh face again, tail newly - bobbed with the balance of a one - legged bird. He had wings, still, but they flew practically anywhere but where he wanted to go. Away from the wind certainly was no want exclusive to him. He's hardly nosy, but even a passing face would notice the setup a certain warrior lugs about.

He and Sunstride had not always come from the same place. The setup catches his eye– a game. Stone hurtles across the dusted ground, goaded their distances with precise, white paws. Briefly glancing to his side, Heath would find a stone of his own to roll under paw– grey - brown and flat and one side– and knock it along with Sunstrides. He overshoots it, the thing landing a tails - length further than Sunstride's furthest stone. " If he's beat, I must be dead N' burried, " he muses, somewhat grasping the object of the game. Despite this, he'd say nothing to Rattleheart's question, not one to give out false information, if he's wrong.

OOC INFORMATION

• —
  
• — HEATHCLAW: he / him; cisgender male, 45 moons. moor - runner of windclan.
  — bisexual with no clear preference. single.
  — low, rumbling voice with a noticeable, but not overbearing southern drawl.
  — goes with the tides. if loyalty is what will benefit him, so be it. independent but amicable.
  
  — for windclan – a tall and broad chocolate tabby tom with half a tail. Smattered with smaller scars, the most obvious being a sharp cut across his lower jaw and eye, that of which is half-blind. Sharp-jawed with an intense hazeled stare; lost most of his tail due to an incident when he was younger.

​

 

[SUNNVAR]

"The only one?" he laughs, a raucous noise burst from his throat. The suddenness of his amusement surprises even him, though it's a pleasant sensation. One that he does not reject when feral light flashes his teeth. "You are a bold-faced liar, my friend." Perhaps it is the truth, though. As time wore on, the youth that he knew grew into a warrior as capable as him, if not more so. They grew together in strength and in heart, until they were so entangled there was no such thing as victory or loss. How he misses the simplicity of that, even more than he missed the strength and surety of his father. A moment passes, and a stone rattles past his own, pulling the warrior's eyes with it.

On and on it goes, far past his own, and Sunstride once again cannot restrained a barked laugh. He grins to Heathclaw, then to Rattleheart, though his gaze is softer upon the smaller tom. He does not know him the way that he knows the others, and there is a caution to him. An uncertainty that Sunstride cannot help but view as a weakness. A chink in his armor that compels him to pry. He does not. Instead, he beckons him closer with a flick of his tail and a jerk of his head, so that he might better join the gathered trio.

"It is a simple enough game. The stick that I have laid out is our goal–" He picks a stone from his pile, and nudges it with his paw long enough to draw attention to it. "You are to roll a stone, with as much strength and precision as you may muster, so that it lands alongside it." He rolls. "Not enough strength, and you will fall short." The stone rolls past the end of the stick in a smooth motion, beginning to totter. "Too much, and you will overshoot." Just at the end of the stick, his stone ceases its journey and falls to the flattened grass. "Playing together, you may easily nudge your opponent's stone out of range, or your own well within it. But it is a game of skill, and not one easily learned."

To all of them, the lead warrior gestures to his pile of stones. "Do you wish to join me?"

＞ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES REFERENCE 05.28.2023 〙ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. approx. 40 moons old. lead warrior of windclan + former rogue.
  —— gay, but somewhat closeted. will not be open about his interests.  single, will be so.
  —— seems comparatively stranger than who he was some moons ago, serious and cool.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.

• "speech"

​

 

[HOUNDTHISTLE]

"BECAUSE COWBOY DAN'S A MAJOR PLAYER IN THE COWBOY SCENE"​

---

He makes his way over, intrigued by this gathering of clanmates, yet he sits a bit back from the rest, single eye narrowed as he watches and his ears pricked in interest. This was not a game he had ever learned nor could he understand the idea behind, but the way Sunstride described, it was something the battle-scarred tom could grow interested in. Still, he stands back, unsure of his abilities as he watches the others play this game, half-tail pressed against his thigh while he sits hunched with clear intrigue in his singular eye, uncovered by pesky cobwebs and herb mixes.

---

"speech"

---

OOC CURRENT STATS INTERACTION RULES

• text
• Physical Health
  
  57%
  ⤷ left eye is blinded, deep bite wound and claw marks in chest, stomach, face, and shoulders.
  Mental Health
  
  98%
• 
  Single | Bicurious | Not actively looking | Interested in none currently
  
  Houndthistle is both an easy one to gain the trust of and impossible to gain the trust of. He'll rarely reveal personal information or be vulnerable-if he's even capable of such things-but he will show trust in his willingness to lay his life down. To gain it, he needs evidence that you're loyal and strong, same as him, otherwise he understands he may one day have to come head to head with you.
  
  — will start fights / will not flee / will not show mercy
  — excels at Fighting, Tracking, Following Orders, Intimidation
  — poor at climbing, swimming, stealth, talking, strategy, politics
  — sounds like: deep, gravelled and thick with a sort of country accent / Arthur Morgan
  — smells of iron, leather, and wood
  — speech is #435E75

​

 

[HOLLYPAW---]

☽༺♰༻☾​

hollykit watches the older cats play something odd. rolling stones, she was utterly confused. weren't games for kits like herself? how did warriors have the time for frivolous activities? did they not have apprentices to train, or borders to patrol?

she slinked closer, catching sunstride's explanation with a tilted head. it didn't seem hard. not by any means, but the lead warrior said it was a game of skill, extreme precision. the kitten couldn't help but be interested. rough housing with her siblings wasn't much fun for her. it was a messy activity, left her fur in knots and ears ringing. but this, a game that would rely on one's mental capabilities just as much as physical, she felt was right up her alley. however, she didn't want to jump in all unknowing and such. so while she sat at the edge of the group of warriors, she would watch their tactics, form her own. only then would she offer to join, beat them all when they least expected. hollykit grew a grin at the thought, and sat ever so patienty to observe.
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[RATTLEHEART]

It wasn't difficult to see the caution that was often written plainly across Rattleheart's face, although undeniably easier for a warrior like Sunstride that had moons of experience to fall back on. That very same caution was what they had been named for, the same anxiety that often left their voice and their paws shaking in equal measure. That weakness was present even now, a faint tremble in Rattleheart's paws that could have been written off as just a reaction to the harsh winds that were battering Windclan territory for the moment. Yet still there was also a determination within them, a grin flashing across their face as Sunstride explained the rules - even if they hadn't played many games as a kit, they had never disliked them.

A brief distraction from the chaos was always appreciated, and maybe they could allow themself some calm. Take a breath in the way Wolfsong and Sunstride seemed much more practiced in.

Their long tail twitched idly behind them as they nodded, shaking paws carrying them closer to the pile of stones that Sunstride had laid out. "I wouldn't mind playing a little. Not sure I'll be any better than if one of the rabbits came to play, though." They couldn't deny the disparity in strength between themself and the moor runners, their own body slim and lanky in a way that lent itself well to tunneling, but not to anything that required brute might. At least the stones weren't so heavy that they couldn't lift them, claws curling loosely around the edge of one to drag it closer - perhaps the gusts that had been tossing them around so much would prove to be a boon somehow after all.

Tilting the rock up a bit, they focused a great deal of their attention on keeping it steady, not wanting to send it careening out of camp instead of anywhere near the stick that represented their goal. Eyes narrowed with focus, they shoved the rock forward with as much force as they could muster - which was unfortunately far from enough. Being sheltered from the wind meant that the game was safe from interference, but Rattleheart also didn't have any of the help they were counting on. They winced as the rock rolled and rolled, eventually falling over a half pawstep back from the stick. The grumbling sigh that left them was heavy, followed by a soft mutter, "Hare-dung."
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​