pafp HELL OR HIGH WATER — fox attack

[BUCKFIRE]

〔✦〕Buck was taking to this idea, observing the clan cats. Most times they don't notice the striped form of the tabby peering out from the window frame of the barn, staring out past the tree line and toward the open moors. He spots them marking the borders sometimes, usually early in the morning or in the evening. He'd gone and talked to them once, something that was probably considered crazy by some of the other loners — ferocious and bloodthirsty, they had been called, but Buck knew that was just some dumb rumor. The cats he had talked to, at least, seemed decent. What would it be like, he wondered, to live out in those woods? Buck had slept in many places under countless roofs, but the wilderness was never a place he had thought about calling home. Could a life there truly be attainable, especially for a roaming tom like him?

He lazes on the sill, tail flicking casually and his head resting on the wooden panel as his orange gaze looks out into the sea of grasses and heather. He fixes his attention onto a dark shape moving through the golden heath; one of those wild cats, he's sure. Hm, what were they up to today?

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a beast rears its ugly head. Buck straightens up, tail stilling as he narrows his eyes. Familiar swaths of alabaster against fiery orange along with dark-dusted limbs — a thievin', schemin', no-good fox. It swiftly dove for the black cat, pursuing them with a keen determination to make them its lunch. "Cowdung," Buck curses under his breath, sight sweeping the distance to see if there were any other cats around. They would get snatched up real quick if they couldn't fend off that creature. He couldn't just sit there and watch it happen.

Leaping and bounding, heart pummeling against his chest, Buck soared past the tree line and into the open moors. His obligation to help his fellow felines, whether they were strangers or not, far surpassed any regard for borders. Thankfully he had not been too late; the cat was still trying to save their own skin.

Onto the fox's back the brown tabby tom lands before he proceeds to dig pointed canines into the nape of its neck. Whether or not he drew blood wasn't important — he just needed to get its attention away from the black she-cat. He then sprung off and onto the ground before snarling, "Come 'n get me, shitbreath!" Call him brave, call him plain stupid, but all Buck knew was that he was scared out of his mind. Staring into those beady, soulless eyes—at those gnashing teeth—made his pelt prickle with nerves. Foxes were hellish devils, cold-blooded killers and scavengers; Buck was all too aware that he was staring death in the face. Stars, maybe he was mousebrained! But maybe, just maybe, he could pull this off.

The loner booked into a sprint in the opposite direction, leading the vulpine into a chaotic and zigzagged pursuit around the field.

i roam from town to town ( i go through life without a care ) //

• ooc. please wait for @hollyhockpurr !
• BUCK — loner, resident of horseplace ✦ penned by beatles
  ✦ cismale / he/him pronouns / 30 moons & ages every 24th
  ✦ single / bicurious & monogamous / open to romance
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  — medium combat difficulty / may start fights, likely will not kill
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are ic
  ✦ biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  
• 
  
  

  a shorthaired brown tabby with orange eyes. a ruggedly handsome tom, sporting lean muscle and a slightly taller than average stature. there is a nick in his left ear as well as a small scratch on his right lip. he smells heavily of hay and wood chips.
  

​

 

[hollyhockpurr]

It is a beautiful day outside. The sun shines above, but it is noticeably cooler than most greenleaf days with a calm breeze ruffling the molly's long fur. Hollyhockpurr is out alone, not something she does often admittedly, but she wouldn't pass up the opportunity to enjoy the weather and scenery without all the troubles of WindClan life lately - namely, the noisy kittens and the drama.

The tunneler moves through recovering grass, taking her leisurely time, as she nears the Horseplace - a random direction she had picked, unbeknownst to her that this decision may save her life. She does not hold her guard, does not scent the air: the idea that she would be just unlucky enough to be a target today does not cross her mind. Thusly so, she does not see, hear or scent the fox until the drooling beasts is lunging towards her at full speed and sending her running.

"Mouse-dung!" Hollyhockpurr curses in the small reaction time she is allowed, before she turns to flee from the russet creature. Wild eyes stare into the empty space ahead of her, devoid of any other cat that could save her from an ugly fate, while her mind hurriedly scrambles for any ideas. The nearest tunnel is not close enough - Hollyhockpurr is small and agile, but lacks the long legs of a moor-runner; she is not fast.

It becomes increasingly evident in the hot breath she feels upon her heels. In a mere seconds, the fox has gained on her, and in a moment of dread, she wonders.. is this how she goes down? Sudden and short, with no fight to give?

Hollyhockpurr feels a snap of teeth graze her back legs - this is it, she thinks - but in the next instant, the fox rears back and ends its' chase. If not for the voice that taunts the lumbering creature, she would not have spared a second to turn back. But, curse her bleeding heart - this cat saved her life. In some act of heroism, or perhaps stupidity, a complete stranger stands in front of the fox now while it stares, dumbfounded - before beginning it's chase again.

"Mouse-brain!" Hollyhockpurr hisses. Though her legs burn from the effort of the sprint she took, adrenaline pushes her forward to help; this time, she is the pursuer. Thankfully, with the brown-striped tom zigzagging so, she finds it much easier to keep up. Close enough to nip the fox's hind legs but with teeth too small to deter it from its' path, the warrior instead jumps forward with a powerful push of her hind legs, grabbing onto one of the fox's legs and holding tight, causing it to stumble in the process.

She feels claws graze her face as it shakes off its leg, and it takes both cat and fox a quick recovery to stand once again on their forepaws. Hollyhockpurr feels a stream of warmth on her face, and her lungs burn for air. The fox, now trapped between two cats and no doubtedly worn from the run - is that a limp she sees after its' stumble? - regards them with a wary snarl as it carefully looks for its easiest opportunity. Somewhere in the near distance, carried on the wind, she hears the voices of her Clanmates, frantic and calling. "My Clan is coming," she hisses urgently to the stranger, who stands on the other side of the fox. "Let's keep this mangy thing busy, shall we?"

​

CHARACTER INFORMATION — ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ♡ — OUT OF CHARACTER

• hollyhockkit hollyhockpaw HOLLYHOCKPURR
  ━━ TUNNELER WARRIOR of WINDCLAN
  ━━ 24 MOONS,, ages every 1st
  ━━ NPC xx NPC
  ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
  ━━ MENTOR to NONE
  ━━ HEALTH ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎ | generally healthy​
• base credits to velvtreill on th
  
  
  
  
• speech is #87B3E0​

 

[BUCKFIRE]

〔✦〕Buck did not hold much for fear death itself, but instead the idea of cutting his life short before getting to experience everything in the world. However, sometimes his conscience overrode everything else in his mind — it was better to die helping another cat than to merely turn his head the other way and pretend that he didn't see anything. Besides, what good was he if he didn't try? Buck had dealt with predators before—foxes, few and far in between as he tended to stay out of their way—so he at least had some experience fending off large, mangy beasts.

Thundering pawsteps ceased momentarily behind him and Buck advanced a few paces before skidding to a halt and turning his back, lungs swelling and burning as his molten gaze assessed what was happening. The black she-cat had caught up to them, standing her ground with a freshly scratched face. The fox had sustained an injury judging by its gait as well as the smell of its blood.

He was about to call out and ask her if she was alright, but she spoke first, seemingly determined to keep fighting for as long as it took. This molly was tough and would not let some scratches deter her. Motivation peaking, Buck issues the clan cat a determined smirk, "With pleasure."

The battle commences once more. Letting forth a menacing hiss, the brown tabby arched his back and lunged forward with a swipe of his claws. "Get out of here, y'giant fleabag!" The barncat yowled, hoping that his display of defense would faze the reddish devil. If not, he was prepared to start running again.

i roam from town to town ( i go through life without a care ) //

• ooc. the fox can be driven off by whoever posts next!
• BUCK — loner, resident of horseplace ✦ penned by beatles
  ✦ cismale / he/him pronouns / 30 moons & ages every 24th
  ✦ single / bicurious & monogamous / open to romance
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  — medium combat difficulty / may start fights, likely will not kill
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are ic
  ✦ biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  
• 
  
  

  a shorthaired brown tabby with orange eyes. a ruggedly handsome tom, sporting lean muscle and a slightly taller than average stature. there is a nick in his left ear as well as a small scratch on his right lip. he smells heavily of hay and wood chips.
  

​

 

[WEBWING]

〔✦〕The stench of a fox is one that still haunts him at night. And today, it follows him from his nightmares into the waking world.

Dark blue fur stands on end. Dammit all! Webwing had only come this way to pay a visit to the Horseplace, and this is what he's faced with? A showdown between a snarling fox and two cats? Just his luck! This day had started out perfect; clear skies and a cool breeze, fit for redecorating a grave. Now, it couldn't get any worse, as he stares out at the beast who'd sent his mate six feet under.

All foxes are the same. No-good creatures who kill without reason or discretion. The world would be a hell of a lot better without them in it.

Webwing's lip curls. Before he's even had the chance to think of a plan, he's bolting from the tall grass with claws unsheathed. There isn't any moral obligation for him to fight; Hollyhockpurr is an acquaintance that he wouldn't grieve over if dead. Buck is a loner he'd only just met. Truly, he's only in this for himself; to satisfy a seasons-old hatred for the devil before him. He lunges with a furious caterwaul and sinks his teeth into the side of the fox's throat. His claws rake across whatever they could find; snout, eyes, shoulder, chest... But within heartbeats, the fox has thrown him off.

He lands on his paws with a grunt. Ears flattened, spine arched, and tail bushed out to twice its size, Webwing glares at the fox, spitting out blood and red fur. "Mange-pelt! Go back t' hell where ya came from!"

Spinning on his paws, he kicks up dirt with his hind claws into the fox's face—without thinking about whether or not the other two would get caught up in the cloud of dust. As the fox is blinded with a startled yelp, Webwing whirls back around and strikes at the fox with his claws once more.

Outnumbered, blinded, and injured, the fox falls back with its tail between its legs. Webwing watches, his eyes narrowing. "'Nd may the maggots eat ya alive!" He yowls after the fox's retreating form, his claws scraping the earth.

"...I hate them damn things," he mutters, mostly to himself. White-tipped tail lashing, Webwing finally faces the other two, his features still twisted into a scowl. The loner he recognizes from a few days before; he'd never thought that Buck would risk his hide to save a WindClanner. It's surprisingly gutsy of him. Dark-furred ears pull forward slightly. "You've got gumption, I'll give ya that," he says to Buck, before glancing towards Hollyhockpurr. "Lucky he was hare-brained 'nough t' cross the border and save your tail, ain't it?" Webwing knows all too well how badly this could've turned out if Buck hadn't. But everyone involved seemed unscathed, for the most part.

If only that'd been true for Comfrey.

nostalgic for the good times ( like our dreams walked out on us ) //

• ooc.
  
• WEBWING —— moor runner of windclan . npc x npc . littermate to mossthorn ✦ penned by nico
  ✦ cis male / masculine terms / 64 moons
  ✦ single / gay / open to romance
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— intermediate opponent; relies on speed and dirty tactics to gain an advantage, but impulsivity leads to him making reckless mistakes.
  
  ✦ “speech”, thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ biography — msg nicolovesdilfs on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• a shorthaired blue tom with high white and hazel eyes. small and wiry, webwing is the picture of a windclan warrior. wisps of dark blue fur are like trails of smoke, wild and windblown. white engulfs his facial features, chest, and the majority of his lower half—except for his tail, which only flaunts a tuft of white at its very end. his hazel eyes are sharp, holding a melancholy that contradicts the smile he often wears.

​

 

[hollyhockpurr]

Soon enough, as predicted, a WindClanner does arrive. Hollyhockpurr is pleased to see Webwing, but for now she doesn't take much time to show it; her attention rests on the fox, snarling and anxious for a bite, with her own lips curled and fur on end. With the moor-runner's swift thinking, Hollyhockpurr has scarcely time to land in a last swipe to the fox before it's turning tail and fleeing like a whimpering cub. Her snarl forms into a triumphant grim as Webwing calls after it, and she pitches in her own winning yowl. "Tell your friends, little fox! We are not to be underestimated!"

But now, as the adrenaline wears off, Hollyhockpurr becomes aware of the stinging cuts to her face. She squints her eye as blood trickles from her forehead, and quickly shakes her head to rid herself of loose crimson drops. "Stars, that thing packs a kick," she curses under her breath. Her chest heaves as she regains her breath, and her muscles ache with the effort of a life-saving sprint, but at least she is alive. Without this stranger, she may not even have that to thank.

The black-furred tunneler nods in agreeance to Webwing's words, then turns her attention back to the loner, one she hasn't had the pleasure of meeting like some others. "Yes.. thank you. I may have been with the stars by now if not for you." That'll teach her a lesson about going out alone and daydreaming like a hare-brain, she supposes. Embarrassed, Hollyhockpurr swipes her tongue over her chest. "Don't know what possessed you to do all that, but it was awful brave. I am in your debt."

Perhaps more gratitude would have to wait until later, she thinks. Her face stings, and the scratches have already begun their irritating itch. Her eyes trail over Buck for a moment, searching for any wounds; then she nods again and angles herself towards the direction of camp. "I've got to get this checked. Come with us if you're hurt; our medicine cat will see you." They saw to the DuskClanner, after all - surely they would spare a bit for a Horseplace hero.
​

CHARACTER INFORMATION — ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ♡ — OUT OF CHARACTER

• hollyhockkit hollyhockpaw HOLLYHOCKPURR
  ━━ TUNNELER WARRIOR of WINDCLAN
  ━━ 24 MOONS,, ages every 1st
  ━━ NPC xx NPC
  ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
  ━━ MENTOR to NONE
  ━━ HEALTH ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎ | generally healthy​
• base credits to velvtreill on th
  
  
  
  
• speech is #87B3E0​

 

[BUCKFIRE]

〔✦〕Backup arrives soon enough, just as the molly had promised. Buck had never been one to roam with a pack, but boy, they sure came in handy when it came to driving off threats. The orange devil did not stick around for long, as the familiar blue tom had inflected one hell of a beating upon it. A flurry of claws and kicked dust sent the vixen running for the hills, hopefully for good. Foxes were turd-brained enough and that thing would truly be brainless if it even considered returning to the moors.

The brown tabby stands, panting as his adrenaline slowly crawls to a normal state. Crimson beads from new puncture marks in his left foreleg; they aren't bone-deep, thankfully, but Buck definitely noticed how it stung. Not that it bothered him much; it was not life-threatening by any means. "You ought to consider yourself lucky that's all you got." Buck remarks to the she-cat after a few moments of replenishing his lungs with air. He cocked his head slightly and added, "Should make for a neat scar, though." Scars were a show of strength and experience. Buck has a couple himself and he doesn't consider them a burden on his appearance, so hopefully Hollyhockpurr does not think otherwise. He was almost certain that the scratch on her forehead would remain permanently.

The blue-furred tom, on the other paw, credits Buck for his bravery. His ego swells, a grin creeping onto handsome features before he meows, "Well, I ain't in the business of bein' a bystander." Buck couldn't say he'd ever saved another cat's life before. It felt... good. Plus, he supposed he could give himself props for not sustaining too bad of an injury. "It's no sweat off my paws." The loner insists when Hollyhockpurr mentions being indebted to him, as if helping fight off a fox was some sort of typical occurrence for him. He truly did not believe in any sort of repayment; seeing that coward run with its tail in between its legs was satisfactory enough.

Then, something unexpected — Buck was being invited back to the WindClan camp. This comes as a surprise at first; he's heard many things about these clan cats, but opening their home to strangers was not something they were known for. However, it looked like Hollyhockpurr would be willing to make an exception on account of the blood on his leg. "A 'medicine cat', huh?" Buck muses aloud. It does not take long for the loner to consider this; he was never much of a thinker but more so a doer. This would be interesting, even if he only got to visit the camp for a short time. "I guess it couldn't hurt." Decides the brown tabby, eager and ready to follow their lead.

i roam from town to town ( i go through life without a care ) //

• ooc.
• BUCK — loner, resident of horseplace ✦ penned by beatles
  ✦ cismale / he/him pronouns / 30 moons & ages every 24th
  ✦ single / bicurious & monogamous / open to romance
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  — medium combat difficulty / may start fights, likely will not kill
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are ic
  ✦ biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  
• 
  
  

  a shorthaired brown tabby with orange eyes. a ruggedly handsome tom, sporting lean muscle and a slightly taller than average stature. there is a nick in his left ear as well as a small scratch on his right lip. he smells heavily of hay and wood chips.
  

​