- Jan 5, 2023
- 229
- 52
- 28
0/9
WINDCLAN / LEAD WARRIOR
BIOGRAPHY AND TAGS
PLAYED BY SHEOGORATH
HEALTH: ████████████████████
[[ Content warning for violence, blood, and death. ]]
Dawn is shadowed and filled with swirling mist. The sun, as it creeps above the horizon, is hidden behind a blanket of thick cloud. Visibility is poor, but Tigerfrost knows he can still rely on the rest of his senses, as he has done countless times in his past. The day is unremarkable, warm and tinged with humidity. A rainstorm looms overhead, thunder rolling in the distance, an ominous scene. But the first drops of rain are yet to fall upon the windswept moor, though the scent of it is already brought forth upon the breeze.
Tigerfrost has gone out early, where the crack of daylight is hardly visible. Not even the dawn patrol has set paw outside of camp so soon within the day. Restlessness and nightmares of the battle against RiverClan drive him from his nest, and out for an early hunt. He seeks to clear his mind, to find peace among familiar lands, where he roams with kingly confidence. Though, as he scents the air, he tastes not rabbit, but something stranger. Another cat lurks the tall grasses alongside him, hidden nearby. The stench is fresh, and Tigerfrost curls his lip with a growl, determined to locate it's source. He tracks the scent, the prints in the warm, dusty earth. He's near the Northern border now, where no clan rests beyond the roaring thunder-path. Down the slope and toward an outcropping of undergrowth and trees, it is only then that he realizes the single track has merged into several. Three, in fact.
The bushes rustle, and it's all the warning he gets as a weight crashes down upon his figure. Tigerfrost can feel the claws in his back, raking down his shoulders. He whips his head back, slams it into the nose of his attacker to loosen their grip, then spins as the feline is flung backward, lancing his claws across the intruder's face. The rogue snarls, hastily backs away as a new set of claws takes her place upon his back. Teeth sink into Tigerfrost's scruff, and he jolts himself against the splintered trunk of a narrow tree. The weight on his back is lifted as the attacker loses his breath, and Tigerfrost spins to face him, biting into the shoulder of the other tom, ripping his claws down the rogue's chest.
A third rogue strikes him from behind, wrapping jaws around the back of Tigerfrost's neck, dragging him off of the second rogue. The Lead Warrior thrashes, yowls, and spits, but the first rogue has leaped on him again, has sank her teeth into his throat as he struggles, ripping his talons across her stomach and chest. He can't breathe, feels a sudden surge of panic and fury igniting his gaze, kicks with all of his might and strikes the rogue in the belly, hard enough to throw her back and away. He twists in the grip of the third rogue, tears himself free and slashes his talons across the eye of the other tom.
He's outnumbered, and he knows it. He has torn into his attackers, but in turn, they have torn into him. His throat and back bleeds, his wounds burn. He flings himself out of the trees and back up the hill. At it's crest, he can see a ghastly form, a figure as white as a ghost. It is no spirit, though. Ghostwail stands above him, and he knows that she has seen it all. He tries to speak through his exhausted gasps, but a weight tackles him from behind, drags him back down the hill. He thinks of the friendships he has formed, and of the things he has achieved. He lets his anger melt away into a concern for his clan-mates, but he follows that sensation with a hopefulness that WindClan will find what remains of him, and will take steps to ensure no other falls prey to the rogues. Tigerfrost thinks he has no regrets in his final moments.
The three rogues have finished what they've started, have torn his throat open and bled him among the trees. Thunder crashes overhead as the rain finally begins to fall, and blood sinks into the muddied earth. All that remains of the rogues is their scent, their blood, and their prints, leading back across the thunder-path, and toward the un-claimed lands beyond. Tigerfrost rests beneath the bushes, lifeless, for his spirit has taken it's first paw-steps into the starry beyond.
((hey all! i will be leaving TT for a little bit, not the discords tho! i have some irl stuff that is basically taking over my life atm. I will be back once it's all taken care of in a month or two, but for now, I felt the need to wrap up Tigerfrost's story so there's a bit of closure in WindClan while I'm gone! I am extremely grateful for the chance to be a part of the HP team here in WindClan, and I had a ton of fun. Thank you all for the opportunity!
Please wait for @GHOSTWAIL to post, and keep in mind that there is no evidence that she had seen the attack and had refused to help. ))
Dawn is shadowed and filled with swirling mist. The sun, as it creeps above the horizon, is hidden behind a blanket of thick cloud. Visibility is poor, but Tigerfrost knows he can still rely on the rest of his senses, as he has done countless times in his past. The day is unremarkable, warm and tinged with humidity. A rainstorm looms overhead, thunder rolling in the distance, an ominous scene. But the first drops of rain are yet to fall upon the windswept moor, though the scent of it is already brought forth upon the breeze.
Tigerfrost has gone out early, where the crack of daylight is hardly visible. Not even the dawn patrol has set paw outside of camp so soon within the day. Restlessness and nightmares of the battle against RiverClan drive him from his nest, and out for an early hunt. He seeks to clear his mind, to find peace among familiar lands, where he roams with kingly confidence. Though, as he scents the air, he tastes not rabbit, but something stranger. Another cat lurks the tall grasses alongside him, hidden nearby. The stench is fresh, and Tigerfrost curls his lip with a growl, determined to locate it's source. He tracks the scent, the prints in the warm, dusty earth. He's near the Northern border now, where no clan rests beyond the roaring thunder-path. Down the slope and toward an outcropping of undergrowth and trees, it is only then that he realizes the single track has merged into several. Three, in fact.
The bushes rustle, and it's all the warning he gets as a weight crashes down upon his figure. Tigerfrost can feel the claws in his back, raking down his shoulders. He whips his head back, slams it into the nose of his attacker to loosen their grip, then spins as the feline is flung backward, lancing his claws across the intruder's face. The rogue snarls, hastily backs away as a new set of claws takes her place upon his back. Teeth sink into Tigerfrost's scruff, and he jolts himself against the splintered trunk of a narrow tree. The weight on his back is lifted as the attacker loses his breath, and Tigerfrost spins to face him, biting into the shoulder of the other tom, ripping his claws down the rogue's chest.
A third rogue strikes him from behind, wrapping jaws around the back of Tigerfrost's neck, dragging him off of the second rogue. The Lead Warrior thrashes, yowls, and spits, but the first rogue has leaped on him again, has sank her teeth into his throat as he struggles, ripping his talons across her stomach and chest. He can't breathe, feels a sudden surge of panic and fury igniting his gaze, kicks with all of his might and strikes the rogue in the belly, hard enough to throw her back and away. He twists in the grip of the third rogue, tears himself free and slashes his talons across the eye of the other tom.
He's outnumbered, and he knows it. He has torn into his attackers, but in turn, they have torn into him. His throat and back bleeds, his wounds burn. He flings himself out of the trees and back up the hill. At it's crest, he can see a ghastly form, a figure as white as a ghost. It is no spirit, though. Ghostwail stands above him, and he knows that she has seen it all. He tries to speak through his exhausted gasps, but a weight tackles him from behind, drags him back down the hill. He thinks of the friendships he has formed, and of the things he has achieved. He lets his anger melt away into a concern for his clan-mates, but he follows that sensation with a hopefulness that WindClan will find what remains of him, and will take steps to ensure no other falls prey to the rogues. Tigerfrost thinks he has no regrets in his final moments.
The three rogues have finished what they've started, have torn his throat open and bled him among the trees. Thunder crashes overhead as the rain finally begins to fall, and blood sinks into the muddied earth. All that remains of the rogues is their scent, their blood, and their prints, leading back across the thunder-path, and toward the un-claimed lands beyond. Tigerfrost rests beneath the bushes, lifeless, for his spirit has taken it's first paw-steps into the starry beyond.
((hey all! i will be leaving TT for a little bit, not the discords tho! i have some irl stuff that is basically taking over my life atm. I will be back once it's all taken care of in a month or two, but for now, I felt the need to wrap up Tigerfrost's story so there's a bit of closure in WindClan while I'm gone! I am extremely grateful for the chance to be a part of the HP team here in WindClan, and I had a ton of fun. Thank you all for the opportunity!
Please wait for @GHOSTWAIL to post, and keep in mind that there is no evidence that she had seen the attack and had refused to help. ))