pafp HIGHWAYMAN | warrior's den

[ThistleBack]

A soft gurgling, a slow chew on measly scraps. A bandaged throat bobs with ragged swallows. The piles of snow in camp grow as the day drags, The two sunrises after Windclan’s raid, with a throat lacerated in jagged streams up his neck. A missed jugular, sure, but swallowing felt like a thousand stings of a wasp’s barb.

A low growl hums off his lip as he shoves the vole away, half-eaten and half-frozen as it was. " Can you bel- " he coughs, hacks, presses a paw to his wound above his collar. " Believe, those moorlands rats. " if he couldn’t eat, he’d have a chat with a good warrior. He turns narrowed greys to Hailstone. " tail lengths from where my kits sleep " he rasps, shoulders quivering with anger.

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OOC INFO REF

• — please wait for @Hailstone hope this is okay!
  ( post war / before patrols set for hunting and camp cleaning )
  
• 
  
  
  ✧ T H I S T L E B A C K
  thirty-three moons
  — Lead warrior of Skyclan
  — taken by
  Deersong 9.29.22
  — mentoring quillpaw
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
  — voice & accent
  — biography･ﾟ✧​
• 
  
  

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[Ashenclaw]

[ ☾ ] Thankfully, the blue tabby didn't sustain many injuries in the fight at camp. Maybe a few scratches here and there, but nothing that could cause bleeding or difficulties doing anything. Still, he was in the warriors' den after being snowed-in due to the blizzard raging outside, and tufted ears perked up at the sound of a voice- struggling to speak. Green eyes moved towards that of a lead warrior; Thistleback.

The blue tabby lifted a paw to place it on the lead tomcats' shoulder in reassurance, "But we chased them out, thanks to Riverclan and out strong warriors," He responded back warmly with a slight tilt of his head, "Those rats never got a chance to hurt the young," He gave a small flick of his bushy tail and removed his paw from Thistlebacks' shoulder, "Besides, it'd be on sight if any cat decided to hurt those kits,"

Hailstone was very protective of kits, they were the clans lifeline. They mattered most in the world and he'd lay down his life for them; his own or not. Though what got him the most was that that young she-cat got away with the herbs. Was Windclan so desperate they would go to such lengths for this? It seemed insane really, but also on par with how that clan seemed to rule things.

speech

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[SILVERSMOKE]

The spotted tabby was a silent watcher, a hawk waiting for its opportunity to swoop in when weakness was sensed. His fur had not completely stopped its unkempt appearance since the raid, and quiet anger still filled the tom's thoughts when he considered WindClan's audacity. It made no sense for them to act the way they did in the middle of a blizzard unless desperation had driven them to a point of self-sacrifice, but Silversmoke still could not find the rationale easily. His eyes twitched as Hailstone thanked the RiverClanners first, pressing his paws closer to his chest as he felt frustration bubble within it. SkyClan shouldn't have needed RiverClan to defend its own, a debt to another group sounded dangerous, especially if they sensed the weakness that daylight warriors brought with them. An attack at night could completely overrun his home, his tail lashed when he realised how powerless he would be to stop that. The blizzard had at least forced some of the kittypets to learn what true clanlife was like, even if the idea of it being temporary left an equally sour taste in his mouth. The mention of kits caused the statue's ears to twitch and stretch out his mildly injured leg.

"The kits were well-protected, nothing happened, and we'll make sure nothing happens in the future, too," he added on, omitting to mention Mush's escape into the camp. Honesty was a worthwhile policy until it was likely to make one of SkyClan's lead warriors suffer heart failure right in the middle of the den. "Things were more interesting on the borders though, weren't they?" Tragedies on the WindClan side, more opponents, it would've been a battle that Silversmoke would've loved to sink his teeth into. He'd missed the feel of claws against his skin and blood on his maw, how else was he supposed to know if he'd improved as a warrior if he wasn't fighting? "Did the WindClanners even try talking to you? Or were their claws out by the time our leader arrived?"



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[SLATESNARL]

He hated this. After living for years on his own and securing isolated nests under scrapcans and in the shadows of the alleys, being trapped in a den with a crowd of other cats who he barely knew was hardly ideal.

There wasn't anything Slate could do about their little predicament, not until the blizzard outside stopped raging, so he figured he'd huddle in the corner and eavesdrop on whatever other conversations the warriors were having. "All over some fuckin' plants." The large former rogue snorted, obviously tucking into himself as he wanted to avoid too close of quarters with anyone else. As a rogue, you'd lick your wounds and grit your teeth through the pain. What was all of this nonsense over herbs?

"Now they're weaker than they were before. Even one of their own got killed. They did it to themselves." He harumphed, sparing no sympathy whatsoever for the "moorland rats". Slate had little to no opinion on the other clan before, seeing as he was still new to clan life, but now he found them absolutely infuriating. The gall of those skinny-boned, long-legged rabbit eaters. Hell, he wasn't even loyal to SkyClan but he wanted to march over there and kick their asses ( even more than they already were, anyway ).

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— * ✰. ooc information recent events * ✰. —

• ninja'd :oouuuugghh:
  
• 
  ✰ SLATE
  —— amab, uses he/him pronouns. twenty-nine moons old. warrior of skyclan; former rogue.
  —— unrefined, rough and tumble rogue who is not accustomed to clan life. only trustful of his littermate, duskmane.
  —— link to tags. @ on discord for plots.
  
  quite the hulk of a cat, slate stands above the average clanmate with an arrogant gait. he has a dark gray ( bordering on black ) colored pelt with a pale-brown-tinged underbelly and whisps of tan at the tips of his chest hairs. amber-colored eyes contrast against his dark palette. notable features include a jagged scar across his right eye and two small scratches across the bridge of his nose.
• 
  

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[ThistleBack]

" Riverclan would make, a powerful ally. " he rasps out with a furrowed brow, chin hovering just over the rim of a messily sewn nest of older moss. A paw of comradery laid on his shoulder, he wags his head in subtle nod with the warrior’s words. On sight, Hailstone promised- the notion, the mere thought of Windclan harming one of his children. " Oh… oh yeah… I’d set those fucking hills on fire. " he promised in unison, both of them shaking verbal hand in that respect. Smokethroat extends his own, cutting in with his own promise.

" Riverclan wanted Windclan blood as much as we did, they didn’t do it out of the goodness of their hearts... but we could use them too" he suggests, eyes shifting from string of moss to string of moss in his thoughts.

Silversmoke pulls at the threads of the border battle topic, Thistleback is readily reminded of the deadly tango and the outcome it had made. A perfect example of the dominos Windclan had set and then tipped. " They asked a rhetorical question, they were there for what exactly they did. They’re reckless imbeciles " he agreed with a painful chuckle toward the grey warrior’s suggestion.

" they kept repeating themselves. Saying we are letting them die " he snickers. " You should’ve heard what Blazestar said when they made their claims. ‘I didn’t personally deny her anything but If Sootstar had come, begging and half-dead… I’d have told her no’ " he quotes the pine king’s cold line as Slate cuts in. A fellow former rogue, Thistleback was fairly new to the importance of herbs himself so he makes no comment other than a considerate hm.

" Who knows, maybe they'll raid Thunderclan next. Afterall, they've denied them acorns! There's no Oaks in the moor, therefor they must die " he rolls onto his shoulder and looks between the warriors, cackling cruelly and wincing with the pain it shoots down his chest.

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OOC INFO REF

• —
  
  
• 
  
  
  ✧ T H I S T L E B A C K
  thirty-three moons
  — Lead warrior of Skyclan
  — taken by
  Deersong 9.29.22
  — mentoring quillpaw
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
  — voice & accent
  — biography･ﾟ✧​
• 
  
  

​

 

[Ashenclaw]

[ ☾ ] Hailstone nodded along with Thistleback as they came to a mutual agreement about protecting children at all costs and burning down moors if need be. He could respect that, even though he had no children of his own he knew of the importance of kittens. Then Silversmoke speaks up about more excitement at the border skirmish than the raid in camp, and he found himself chuckling.

Blazestar was a very clever man and he could hear the cream cat speak up about denying them. Though there was a small glimmer of guilt as Thistleback relayed that they were begging and claiming to be dying- was it truly that bad? The Windclanners in camp looked no worse for wear compared to how they normally looked.

Slate then spoke up from were he had been laying in the warriors' den and it was something about it all being about a plant. Was that what it was? They wanted plants? Why didn't they just ask Dawnglare? Or even grew their own or something like twolegs did? What was it even for? Though there was many questions and very little answers he really couldn't care about. Windclan had done it to themselves. If they weren't so blinded by Sootstar and her insanity way of ruling maybe things would've been different.

"I'm sure Sootstar will be licking her pride wounds for moons," Hailstone mentioned with a small chuckle to himself and shifted a bit in the nest to be more comfortable, "The next gathering will surely be- interesting,"

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[HUCKLEBERRY]

( ☼ ) the raid upon their camp had taken everyone by surprise, in a single blink cats that hailed from the moors streamed into the hollow clearing with an intent to ransack their herb supplies to take back to windclan but not without being met with fierce resistance. huckleberry was present at the time just like the others but hardly participated in the heart of battle, he instead opted to help guard the nursery but witnessing it had proven to tear his morals in two.

there was a point during the clash where a windclan apprentice was being knocked around whilst trying to escape with catmint clutched in their grasp and his heart lurched with the urge to bowl over a friend, an ally to give their young enemy a chance to slip away. if he had done it, there was no doubt that his actions would have been labeled as traitorous. so, all he could do was watch with a conflicted gaze.

two days have passed since then and the storm has taken full effect forcing everyone to take shelter in their respective dens. a conversation is quick to be struck up by thistleback and a few others and while the smoky tom usually loved to chatter this time he remains quiet. honestly being forced to listen to them dialouge only serves nasueate huckleberry who curls further into his nest with a back turned to the rest. ​

( i hear the wandering streams and the song of the birds )

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

"There are three other clans that might have carried what they need. There is a twolegplace to try and find catmint. It was not SkyClan that forced their deaths, it was the incompetence of a lazy clan too used to bullying others around to get what they need. I won't lose sleep over their losses. Cravens." Whether it was Slate's interjection or the fighting words that came out of Silversmoke's own throat, his already prickly fur seemed to bristle even more as he spoke. The worst thing about the situation, other than the WindClanners injuring an elder, was that they had sent apprentices to do the worst of the work, apprentices that looked barely old enough to be out of the nursery. Blue paws shuffled uncomfortably at the thought of having to kill one of them, distracted from the notion only somewhat by Thistleback's reenaction of Blazestar's stand. So Slatestar hadn't been there to watch her clanmates die for her? Briefly, he wondered if the herbs were for her, or if she fit the image of a cowardly rabbit-chaser more than he'd believed before. A strained smile appeared briefly at Thistle's joke, the warrior's head turning towards the edges of the den when he heard the shifting of material.

He stared at the back of the black smoke's head for a while, even as Hailstone piped up with the mention of the month's gathering. Long ears twitch in thought before Silversmoke eventually looked away to carry on the conversation. "If this gathering happens and there's not one fight in it, I'll drink mouse bile." As sure as he was that half of the warrior's den would like to see that, Silversmoke was confident in his bet. With three of the clans recently scrapping, and recorded fatalities, he did not see how they could stand to be in the same place. Law was what had stopped him from attacking Slate when he'd first joined, somehow, Smoke did not think the other groups had a similar concept of behaviour - not after this week's stunt. "I'll... try not to start one if I go. But..." His paws completely disappeared under his chest fluff as he loafed, a rare glint of mischief appearing in the warrior's green eye. "It's really tempting to ask them if they got enough catmint from us." The looks on their faces would be enough to make up for a lackluster battle at SkyClan's camp.



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