sensitive topics I DON'T LOVE YOU [☾] I JUST LOVE THE BOMB

[GRAVELSNAP]

They knew this was coming. They knew, eventually, the tension that’s been brewing within the clan would boil over. Whether from within or without, WindClan was going to reach a breaking point soon. They just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Gravelsnap watches their clanmates barrel into one another with fangs bared—it plays out like something straight from a nightmare, a worst-case scenario that rattles them down to their core. Everything is falling apart before their eyes.

Hazel eyes dart around the battle, seeking familiar faces. He spots Thriftfeather, Slatetooth, Bluefrost—they’re each engaged in their own battles, some going better than others, but the black-patched warrior cannot help them. He can’t help any of them. He can’t help himself. Their paws won’t move from where they stand, frozen—but a disbelieving snarl twists its way onto their muzzle. What do they do?

// open to attack by loyalists or rebels​

[ you put the fun into dysfunction ]​

​

 

[sparkspirit]

His heart pounds a terrible rhythm, and the world falls down around him. He should have expected it. All this time in waiting, blood on his teeth, in his ears, and Sparkspirit has been preparing for the end. What Sootstar would want vies with what Sparkspirit would want, and then he is no longer Sparkspirit at all but Spark-kit. A wide-eyed bundle of fur in a cold leafbare, staring at Sootpaw with wonder. It was all he had wanted to be. Proud. Loyal. Loved.

But in the violence of Sootstar's rage, he sees something that he had never before noticed: Sootstar does not love them. The kits, her own kits. Her clan. The shaky house of logic that he had built up around himself collapses into a pile of kindling, and as his family charges into the fray, it ignites. Blazing hot in his chest despite the weakness of his throat. The warrior lunges into battle. His paws itch for Sootstar's throat, to wail about what she had done. Weaselclaw, her mate, abandoned, led astray from the stars where any of them may see him again. She had torn everything from him, he wants to kill her. He wants this to be over. In this fire, it all may end.

His claws lash out towards @HEAVY SNOW. He is suddenly so very close to the great warrior's face as he rears up before him, mock-violence made real. As his jaws move as if to tear at his throat, Sparkspirit stops close and whispers: "Morningsong." His brother, who he has abandoned far too many times now, is on a patrol outside of this disaster. He hopes the word alone is enough, that Heavy Snow will understand the promise. He's going to get his brother. He's going to get out safely. Everything is going to be fine, he says in that one word.

𝘛𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘓𝘌𝘋 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘋𝘚 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐  ･｡ﾟ  🗲  ╱╱ 11.07.2023 𝘊𝘈𝘕𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘚𝘈𝘠 ˊˎ＜

• OOC. please don't engage!
• 🗲　　. 　 ˚　.  SPARKSPIRIT. HE - HIM - HIS. 14 MOON OLD MOOR RUNNER OF WINDCLAN. VERY LOYAL TO HIS CLAN. PENNED BY REVELATIONS.  ————
  
  
  ——  a trim mock tortoiseshell tom with mostly black fur splashed with the occasional patch orange. he has a singular white mark on the back of his neck shaped similarly to a lightning strike, and a small scar across the bridge of his nose. his eyes are a shocking electric blue.
  

  ✦ ECHOLIGHT x ELMBREEZE. ADOPTED BY YEWBERRY. BRIGHTFAM, BUT SOMEWHAT ESTRANGED DUE TO HIS LOYALTY TO WINDCLAN. ————————

• "speech"

​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── //tw for a lil bit of descriptive gore
permission for powerplay was granted! ty for your sacrifice fox <3

The earth drifts to sleep under the new snow, only occasional tufts of dry, limp grass visible across the heath. The sun often joins it in slumber, though there days when its dull glint broadens. Wolfsong thinks of clear, early morning skies and the light as it buds in swathes of frost. He awaits such beauty eagerly, entrenched as they all are in this thawing rot that chokes the air.

Once a scar worn with pride, Sootstar is now an open and dirtied wound, stinking and yellowing. She is an infection that must be excised from WindClan's body before it reaches the heart and fells the beast— and yet it is not so simple. There are WindClanners who welcome the festering, applaud it; they smell weakness and believe it Brightshine's, or Periwinklebreeze's, but it is Sootstar's. Her madness which follows Wolfsong even on his solitary patrols, shadowing his mind while he plucks at dormant plants.

The air stirs. He raises his gaze and finds a black-winged bird, its dark claws dipping into the pale snow. The sheen of its carved beak catches his focus, and then they are staring directly at each other. Fathomless eyes blink once before the raven lifts itself onto another wind, and he watches it leave— and it flies for camp. His chest tightens. Herbs in mouth, he takes a flight of his own, tearing after the bird until the clamor of battle batters his ears.

He sees. He sees. Sunstride snarling, Featherpaw latching onto Hollowcreek's haunches, Bluefrost and Scorchstreak and Bluepool and— his daughter, foolish, brave, caught under Hummingbirdheart's weight. Bloodied claws sweep down at her face. He is a child watching the dogs pull at his mother's body. His lungs expand with frigid air and the roar they free is an avalanche breaking ice-locked muscle into motion.

"I'LL SHIT OUT YOUR HEART!" He tears her off of Rivepaw in a leap, slamming her into the muddied snow and burrowing his claws into the heat of her eyes. He darkens his maw on her throat, snapping until he catches her trachea and insisting until his jaws close and resistance breaks in an ugly crack. Her breaths are wet wheezes under his tongue, but Wolfsong does not stop laying her throat bare even after her body stills. He does not feel the gashes she left on his neck and jaw. There is only blood and snow and a bitter wind and the distant braying of dogs ricocheting in his ears.
​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 41 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
  — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
  — ★★★☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart and his own pregnancy, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

​

 

[MOCKING-GRIN]

This is the reason why he had told Juncopaw to prepare herself. The moment they returned he knew their queen would enact justice on the rat who had betrayed them. Had he only remained quiet and done his job none of this would have transpired. Within seconds the clan is stirred up into a frenzy and he finds himself relieved. The shackles that had weighted him down were broken, he was free to punish those who decided to go against their queen, the only cat they should listen to. Not the rat that had betrayed Windclan. He is brimming with pride towards his apprentice who knows what is just. There is no need to help her, she would be capable of holding her own. As for him...

Ah, looks like a tick wants a bite. Mismatched eyes land on Fogbound who looks at him as if he was a helpless bird. A wicked grin only spreads as he's compared to a beast. Claws unsheathe, prepared for a fight until a flash of yellow moves past him. It is Thriftfeather who aids him and while he is surprised he is thankful. Not that he would express it in the heat of battle. The chocolate tom cackles at the sight, "And here I thought you would be smart, but I suppose I had too much faith in scum like you." Fogbound was someone he thought would be charmed into their side, yet the useless tom couldn't see what was right. Then again, what use is that one eye?

Mocking-grin himself has no fear in facing fogbound. Both of them are similar enough in size so he is ready to wrestle with the tom. Whether or not Thriftfeather's attack proved fruitful Mocking-grin would attempt to slash Fogbound's good eye. One might call it dirty, but he would simply say that there were no laws in battle other than surviving to see another day. Anything goes. "You brought this upon yourself!" The anger in his tone is clear. However, just the same whatever transpired in the future would be by his own doing. In time everything will become clear.

OOC NOTES . ◭ . CHARACTER INFO

• ooc : attacking @FOGBOUND
  
• — mocking-grin / windclan moor runner / masculine pronouns / 24 moons
  — heterosexual / single / looking / open to flirting and crushes
  — high white long haired chocolate smoke with heterochromia
  — may powerplay minor harm / can powerplay healing
  — biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by velou

​

 

[Lilacstem]

Chaos erupts around the two. Cats clash with cats, cries of betrayal, hisses and growls. No longer are the true and noble cats of WindClan going to stand by and let Sootstar and her tyrannical loyalists destroy their home and having them fear for their beliefs and their very lives.

Lilacstem smirks slightly when she tastes the copper in the air, knowing it stems from injuries she had inflicted on him. Her smirk only widens when she hears his anger and his frustrated hiss. "I'd like to see you try," She taunted. Lilacstem wasn't a decent fighter in truth, but with her heightened emotions and with everything erupting around them, she feels like she could take on the world. He makes an attempt to rush her with claws, and whilst she makes an attempt to avoid and kick his legs out but she fails and hits the floor hard. Lilacstem scrambles to try and get up but she feels his teeth pricking at her neck. "Get off!" She spits, trying to push away with her forepaws. A part of her knows he won't let up...she wouldn't if the situation was reversed. If this is the end for her at least she can say she went out fighting. "Bright!" She manages to call out, hoping to find her sister's face in the crowd. "Go! Run!"

// @DUSTWHISKER do not intervene
also looking and shouting at @BRIGHTSHINE! ​

 

[Azaleafrost]

It all happens so quickly, Azaleafrost was not prepared for what was happening at all. Sootstar attacks Sunstride and an all out war breaks out. Azaleafrost hesitates, unsure of who she should be fighting. She looks for Mintshade, for Periwinklebreeze, for Wolfsong. What are they doing? What about Marmotbite? She does not look around for long when Sootstar screeches again and Azaleafrost freezes.

Own?

She thinks she owns her?

No. No.

Azaleafrost is not owned by anyone. She is free. Kittypets are owned. Dogs are owned. She is NEITHER!

It finally begins to boil over, the hatred and rage and loathing that she has fostered her entire life... It's finally erupting, consuming her in it's white hot grasp. There is no reigning it back now. The beast inside has broken free, and it will run rampant until it tires itself out. Her teeth are bared in the most vicious snarl she's ever made, one free of any restraint. All her instincts yell at her to kill, and thats what she'll do.

She's waited for this moment for a while, hasn't she? To rip apart those who have belittled and mocked her, looked down on and spat on her. It's time. She feels a sick sense of glee over it, that she has lasted this long to finally see this moment....

She sees Wolfsong rush to save Rivepaw and crush Hummingbirdheart's throat. That's all she needs. She rushes into the battle, lunging for the first loyalist she sees, jaws wide and hungering for flesh and blood, claws extending and thirsting for the same.

((Any loyalist is free to say they're the one being attacked!))​

 

[FOGBOUND]

your entire existence gives me a headache, go stand over there .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Fogbound felt little, staring at Thriftfeather, no longer an apprentice, but a full-fledged warrior fighting with the crazy queen drawing a loud cackle from the bulky male. Oh, how the tables have turned. It is a miracle they have survived this long, dancing amongst thieves and dreadful parasites that made his skin crawl with disgust and bubbling fear that nearly made the moor runner reel, but no—Fogbound grinned devilishly, ruby hues igniting with the thrill of battle, no longer needed to play nice, to cackle and joke in faux charm as her members cause destruction, ruining that fickle peace.

The warrior would have reacted late, collapsing just like the times he fought against rogues, but before his body made contact with the unforgiving ground, Mothmoon came barreling forward. He breathed, spinning around, claws digging into the ground with bared teeth, ruby hues blazing, cursing his lack of sight. “You are no clan.” He snarled, chest heaving as adrenaline oozed through icy veins. “You are the traitors.” He snarled, grinning devilishly. “You seek destruction, you are nothing more than parasites to the five clans. You speak for WindClan but are nothing more than foolish kits following a crazed queen.” He snapped, nostrils flared, tone dipping into dangerous territory to ignore the heavy air that encompassed them, yowls and shrieks permitting the air.

If successful, Fogbound would aim a heavy swipe to Thriftfeather’s side, ruby gaze flashing. “You are nothing more than rogues. Perhaps you’ll meet the same fate.” He grinned, dark lips curling, muscles coiling in anticipation to protect Mothmoon, but that was short-lived when Mocking-Grin snapped back drawing a loud snarl from the smokey runner. “Perhaps it is you who fails to see the bigger picture.” He sneered in response, unable to dodge this time as his claws found purchase, stomach dropping with dread.

He jerked away with a sneer, shaking his helm to rid himself of the beading blood to discover he could see, albeit blurry as blood bubbled, burning the sensitive appendage. Fogbound merely huffed, shooting forward in an attempt to sweep the other off of his paws, kicking up derbies as he did so in hopes of blocking the other’s vision, if only for a second in an attempt to rake his claws across visible skin. “It is foolish to think of you as intelligent.” He would report with a bloodied wrinkle of his muzzle, peeling away with a half-crazed grin.

/ @Thriftfeather @MOCKING-GRIN ​

​

thought speech​

 

[Thriftfeather]

Thriftfeather's contact with Fogbound is brief—pain catches his flank as Fogbound swipes him. Traitors, Fogbound says, as if WindClan and Sootstar are separate things, as if one can be fought for or against without the other. To stand for one is to stand for the other, and to betray one is to do the very same to the other. Fogbound, the rest of those who are fighting, they are too deluded to see that. Thriftfeather backs away a step, his mouth folded away from his white teeth in a prolonged hiss.

"Mousebrain!" Thriftfeather spits, without sounding angered.

That's all he has time for before Mothmoon is upon him. She drags him to the ground—Thriftfeather, rather that fight his weight, allows it to carry him the rest of the way, attempting to pin her beneath him. Whatever she says to him is lost to the din of the fight, or to the roar in Thriftfeather's ears. Instinct tells him to try and flinch away from Mothmoon's attack—his heart thumps painfully—but Thriftfeather instead tries to press closer to Mothmoon, to allow her no space for her hindlegs to kick into him.

If successful, Thriftfeather will attempt to bury his teeth into the flesh of Mothmoon's cheek, and yank.

//interacting: @FOGBOUND & @mothmoon​

WINDCLAN WARRIOR ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 9 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[FOXGLARE]

⁀➷ Foxglare recalls a stilted conversation, had beneath the bright-claw crescent moon of Greenleaf. He was still Foxpaw back then, and back then, he still bristled whenever Hound approached. Hound would still insist on calling him "son" despite his grumblings, and he would tell him in that reserved, unreadable tone he always had that he needed to be careful who he tied his trust to in this place. Fox remembered scoffing and saying something along the lines of, "I don't trust no one but myself," and Hound would merely twitch his whiskers and move along.

He supposed there always laid before him a limit to how long he would be able to depend solely on himself.

Foxglare knew that bloodshed was on their horizon, he could feel it mounting in his whiskers with every dawn that arose. He could feel the tension buzzing to a fever pitch within camp and felt the prickle of stares from the clans around them, could almost hear the sharpening of claws around the perimeter of the moors. He thought he was prepared, but he could not foresee the explosion of absolute chaos that would ensue today.

Blood pounds in his ears as everyone spirals into a flurry of bloodshed and battle-cry. Somehow, he had faith that he would not be crossing claws with the grey, scarred face he knew most, and he knew that the ol' man was too stubborn to let himself fall to any of Sootstar's drooling dogs. Inexplicably, he searches first for a familiar pelt of taupe-tabby-and-white, heartrate spiking when he is unable to spot him in the fray. Fox's efforts are cut off by the shrieking of Nightmareface and Slatetooth tussling nearby, and he steels himself, focusing on the situation before him.

At that moment, Foxglare was putting his trust in Sunstride, and he could only hope the man was deserving of it.

Nightmareface is trying to pin Slatetooth to the ground, and Foxglare lunges at the smaller she-cat in an explosion of movement. He pounces toward her, hoping to feel his claws dig into the fur and muscle of her shoulders, so he could drag her off the dark-furred tom. "Get to yer feet! Quickly!" he urges Slatetooth to get out from his vulnerable state on the ground. Whether or not he was successful in grabbing her the first time, Foxglare would try shoving Nightmareface to the ground with a snarl, trying to pin her with his body weight and snapping powerful jaws to sink teeth into whatever part of her body was closest.

ALL IN ALL ⁀➷☾⁺₊ IS ALL WE ARE

• OOC: interracting with @slatetooth , attacking @NIGHTMAREFACE !! otherwise open to attacks from loyalists !
  
  (Houndthistle flavortext perms given by angel!)
• 
• 
  — sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
  — he/him. 12mo moor-runner of windclan
  — a large, scarred, longhaired light ginger tabby with high white and grey eyes
  — smells like wet oak wood and dewy sedge
  — sounds like leon kennedy, with a vague texan drawl.
  — the straight-faced and taciturn adopted son of houndthistle, lived as a twolegplace loner until 7 moons old, now a moor-runner of windclan. stalwart and resilient, he is not easily shaken and lives by a very strict personal code of honor.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — hs by mercurial, fullbody by antiigone
  — penned by eezy

​

 

[BLUEFROST]

Bluefrost’s claws hit their mark—she feels the flesh and fur tear beneath them, feels blood dampen their tips. The young tunneler is not quick on her paws, not the way Scorchstreak is, however, and when the calico throws herself into Bluefrost, she staggers backward on ungainly paws. “How dare you,” she hisses as claws score against her cheekbone, just under a wincing green eye. She had avoided the brunt of the attack, perhaps saved the sanctity of her pretty face from being permanently ruined, but the sting is blinding. She jerks her head forward and aims to sink her teeth into the side of Scorchstreak’s neck. The blow is swift, but clumsy and uncoordinated.

And then there’s a high-pitched squeal, one she recognizes well. Brightshine’s look-a-like little daughter, Pinkpaw, is needling one leg with her tiny teeth. Bluefrost’s snarl of frustration ripples through her muzzle—she lifts one forepaw and attempts to swat it squarely onto the top of Pinkpaw’s head.

[ fighting @SCORCHSTREAK and @PINKPAW ]

, ”​

​

 

[FINCHPAW!]

╭───── ⋅ ⋅ ────── ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ───── ☀︎ ──── ･ﾟﾟ･｡ ───── ⋅ ⋅ ─────╮​

It starts with Sootstar returning, the rest of the patrol and some strange cats Finchpaw doesn't recognize in tow. They were supposed to bring back Lark-kit and Ouzelkit, not - not whoever those cats are, she thinks, and that's the last thing she remembers before the world starts to dissolve. Sootstar's mad, mad at Sunstride for something, and she...she attacks him, right there, right in the middle of camp. It's - what was she doing? And Sunstride's fighting back, and they're both fighting, and everything is still until reality comes crashing down, claws unsheathing and cats yowling. Kill him. Kill him, she'd said, and cats were listening and not listening and it was all - it's all a mess, and Finchpaw can't parse it, doesn't understand what's going on.

She's seen violence before - seen violence in this very camp, blood spilled in the places she'd played games at as a kit, but this is something else entirely different than the rogue attack. The rogues had beaten them down, driven them out of their camp, but - they'd been rogues. It's what they do, Finchpaw had been quick to learn; they stole what wasn't theirs, over and over again, as if it was their nature. WindClan - they weren't like that, they weren't anything like that, and so it had been easy enough to reconcile when it had been WindClan that had stood strong against the faceless enemies, the violence. She'd seen clanmates spar before, seen them train and scrap and scuffle, but this? There were bodies and blood everywhere, and this was real - more real than she'd ever seen, ever even imagined. This wasn't a noble defense; this was senseless slaughter, friend against friend against family, and no matter how eager she'd been to prove herself after the rogues, she can't do anything but shrink back, horror leaching off of her.

Sootstar had said to kill Sunstride, to kill anyone who helped him and stood in her way but - but, Finchpaw doesn't want to kill Sunstride, doesn't want to kill anyone. Even as her mind fumbles, fails to grasp the situation at hand, she knows this isn't right; there can't be anything at all right about attacking your clanmates like this, no matter what Sootstar says. There just can't be.

She hadn't been close to where the fighting had started, but it hadn't stayed near there, either, and as shapes whizz by, bodies of her clanmates locked in brutal matches, she finds herself flinching back, crouching low with her eyes laid flat and her pupils blown wide. Whether she wants to listen to Sootstar or not is out of the question - no more could she bring herself to blows with her clanmates than she could fall still, banishing the restless way her paws always seemed to twitch out on the moors. Maybe she would have stayed there forever, watching as everything she knew tore itself apart; maybe she would stay there forever, locked in this moment for eternity - maybe, if not for a familiar rumble, her ears catching her very name over the din. Fogbound.

Earlier, she'd been at his side, just like always, but when Lark-kit and Ouzelkit had been announced missing, she'd strayed away, searching for kits that would now never be found; somewhere between then and now, though, he'd found her, even among all the claws and teeth that now made up the world. For once, she was rendered speechless, only jerking her head towards him, following the line of his sight to Brightshine and Pinkpaw, who might as well have been a whole moor-length away. Don't engage, he says - run, if she has to, follow Brightshine. "Fogbound - I -" The words die somewhere between her chest and her throat, the protest she wanted to give. What about you? The question goes unspoken, evident only in her expression, and stubbornly, she wants to stay - wants to remain by his side, to watch his back, to help like she couldn't help with the rogues in camp, or the rogues out of camp.

As quick as he'd appeared, though, he's gone again, swallowed up by whirling combatants, and Finchpaw wants to scream and yell and chase after him, but in the blink of an eye she's lost her chance. The tide of the battle makes her dizzy, and the thought of wading into it after her mentor almost makes her sick. She can't just...just leave him there, leave him to fight with - whoever, she doesn't even know what side he's on in this gruesome mess, even if she can't picture his jaws around Sunstride's neck - but that sight of Brightshine and Pinkpaw -

It's clumsy, the way she navigates the battlefield, trying to stay as far as possible from any errant claws, but she's on a mission now - get to the rest of her family. Get to Brightshine, get to Pinkpaw, find everyone else - run. Run far away if they have to, and even though Fogbound had told her not to fight, she'd take on Sootstar herself if she stood between the rest of her family. The swell of cats around her is constantly shifting, revealing new clanmates at every turn, though one in particular stands out even as she draws closer and closer to her goal. "Heavy Snow!" she cries, and she could almost collapse at his feet, sink into his cloud of fur in relief that he's here, too. "Mama! Pinkpaw!" They're all here, and they're okay - for now.

"Where - where's Downypaw, and Heathpaw?" The question wobbles out, and even she knows it's practically meaningless, not among the chaos all around them. If neither of her siblings are here yet, that must mean they're somewhere out there - somewhere in the fray, or hopefully somewhere avoiding it. Downypaw would be alright (she doesn't know that, doesn't know it for sure, but-) but Heathpaw? She probably has even less of an idea of what's happening than Finchpaw herself does. Fogbound had said to stick close to Brightshine, and now that she's here, all she wants is to run, but everybody else is fighting, aren't they? Somewhere, she thinks she remembers Featherpaw and Rivepaw, harried but battling for Sunstride. Even if she doesn't fight, she can't just do nothing - she can't just run without Heathpaw, without Downypaw.

"We have to find them!" Her cry is desperate now, as she tears herself away - even a short distance feels like judgment casting down upon her, but Finchpaw won't leave without finding Heathpaw, at least. She can't, and she scans the writhing bodies before her, willing her sister's white pelt to materialize, willing a matching smoked pelt to appear alongside it, so they could all go, all of them together.​

˗ˏˋ BIRD&#039;S EYE VIEW, AWAKE THE STARS (ˏˋ°•*⁀➷) &#039;CAUSE THEY&#039;RE ALL AROUND YOU ´ˎ˗

• OOC: Interacting briefly with @FOGBOUND and @BRIGHTSHINE! then turning to look for @HEATHPAW - open for any interactions!​
• 
• 
  - Finch Finchkit Finchpaw
  - She/her (AFAB)
  - 4 moons
  - Loner Kit Apprentice of WindClan
  - Hearty & scruffy chocolate lynx point with splashes of white and bright blue eyes
  - Art by Jay & base by googaoo respectively! <33
  - Minor powerplay allowed!
  - Penned by Hijinks​

 

[SUNSTAR]

Like a festering wound finally given outlet, the rot of WindClan bursts from its dam. The cats that they face: infection. He would gladly sink his teeth to any of their throats. The nameless, hateful eyes of Sootstar's loyalists have been given names and intent, and Sunstride will remember them with vibrant, red-tinged hatred. Yet there are those among them that he could not fathom. Their faces only serve to fuel his anger in this moment, and the warrior roars. Though Harbingermoon had been deterred, he rears to his hind limbs and descends upon Hollowcreek. The claws connect with his chest in one clean cut, marring the scars that he had once worn with pride. A gift that night beneath the stars– a promise to Sootstar, broken by her staunchest of loyalists. Not even the pain can deter him from this moment.

Black wings soar above their heads as the promise of a feast calls in the flock. He will not allow it to be WindClan that fills their bellies. "For me to fight like one, you will die like one," he snarls to the warrior, lunging forward to strike at @hollowcreek's ear. His paws scrape upon the cold ground, his own breath reflected back upon him with terrible heat. He intends to see this through to its end. Should he die upon these moors, he will take the worst of them with him into the ground. Whatever must be done was his to do. Wolfsong spoke of distant moons and a plea to run away. It had been his own decision, to tear them from the mountains. To seek his fate here, amidst the turmoil of these clans.

This is his, the way that she claims WindClan to be hers. His to fight for, and his to defend. His to die for, if he must.

Yet there is an outcry of familiar rage, and everything upon Sunstride's spine rises to stand tall. His mate's maw was latched to the blood-well that had once been a warrior's throat. His heart flogs the barrier of his chest as it seeks its route to this moors. Time slows on the field of battle, and it is only a moment's distraction in which he sees Rivepaw so near to his grasp. Motionless in grisly respite. "ELLISIF!" the warrior howls, for it is the only name that either will recognize in this bath of blood, far unlike what he had seen in SkyClan or RiverClan. Violence against a clanmate. Against family. He disentangles himself from Hollowcreek, paws stumbling a berserk path to Rivepaw's still form.

It was a battle that he had begun. And as this comes crashing down upon him, he sees only the others that will die. All that they suffer– together, yes, but not here. Not to this end. "WindClan!" They will know his voice and who he speaks to, his voice carrying across their camp. "Move! This is not to be the end of our clan. Go! To horseplace! Go!" With his daughter's scruff now clenched between his teeth, Sunstride takes a few steps from the middle of battle. Towards the entrance of camp. He will not leave before they do, but they must leave. And they will return.

𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓  ╱╱ 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 〚 11.22.2023 〛 —————«

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.

• "speech"

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[Mouseflight]

Attack missed and quickly Mouseflight turned, hackles raised as he watched intently for what Harbingermoon would do next, eyes narrowing before paws jumped back out of the way of an attack. Within his attempt to make sure he did not get attacked by the warrior - the true traitor in his mind - he hadn't seen Peonypaw come from behind and quickly the warrior hissed in pain when his flank was struck. Ears pinned back as he scoot away slightly, making sure to be able to see both his attackers before swiping where he could hoping to land a blow before the call to retreat was yowled.

Quickly he would attempt to bowl over Peonypaw, trying to push him to the ground before jumping off and running and if that didn't work he would simply try to go around. The tunneler was named for his speed and he wasn't going to let anyone catch him if he could help it, if he could get out of the fray. He tried his best to go for those he knew might not make it out, those younger and potentially frozen with fear, pushing and shoving them towards the entrance of camp before following Sunstride's orders and trying to make his way towards the horseplace where it would hopefully be safe.

⋆｡°✩ threw my voice into the dark

• rushed since I'm doing homework dsfgkldhjfg
  dodging @HARBINGERMOON and tries to bowl over @PEONYPAW before retreating and trying to shove younger rebels out with him
• 
  ⋆ mousekit - mousepaw - mouseflight
  ⋆ ftm - he/him - 12 moons
  ⋆ bisexual - open to relationship
  ⋆ tunneler of windclan
  ⋆ attack - speech - thought
  ⋆ penned by tikki

​

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[slateheart]

-ˋˏ ༻☽༺ ˎˊ- Frustration seeps through his bitter gaze as Slatetooth misses his furious attacks against Nightmareface. Honor? Weakness? How the two could be one in the same to these unruly cats was beyond him. Between gritted teeth, he manages a strained reply: "Without honor, you are nothing more than the rogues you claim to denounce."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Nightmareface is once again on top of him, pinning him to the ground in his exhausted state. Once again he is thrashing under her grasp, kicking out at her with his hind legs, while her claws dig into his wrists. Despite everything, he almost laughs at her comment. "Everything?.." came the snarl from the tom's bloodied mouth, "WindClan took everything from me. I am reclaiming my own dignity." He begins to recall his younger days, a bundle of three kits nestled against their two mothers. His father, Lynxtooth, had brutally slain Adelaide - the she-cat who birthed them, and stolen them to WindClan, where he would be trained a child soldier, a captive to a brutal land and made to grovel at his cruel father's paws. All in the name of WindClan - of Sootstar.

In his state of frantic despair, he barely notices the weight being lifted off him - with a brutal tear from his left ear - until the command to rise is given. Slatetooth jumps to his paws and gives a brief, thankful glance towards Foxglare before darting away, and almost as if fate would have it, straight into a familiar orange shape, scowling down at him with such hatred and contempt that his blood felt cold despite the fiery orange eyes that burned straight through him.

-- [Brief gap, to be filled by a private roleplay.] --

Slatetooth's paws are caked in the blood of another by the time Sunstride calls his cats forth. With a last cold, unwavering gaze towards his tormentor, he leaves a still body amidst the chaos and begins the short run towards Sunstride's side. He regards the still body of Rivepaw in his jaws, and his features soften, if only for a moment. I hope she's alive, is his only thought - he conveys it with his eyes, before leaping ahead and out of camp, towards their place of refuge, leaving Lynxtooth's body to rot and degrade over the trampling paws of battling cats.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── WHEN YOU&#039;RE YOUNG ⋅❁⋅ YOU&#039;RE A LOADED GUN ──┐‎

• 
  
  interacting briefly with @NIGHTMAREFACE and @FOXGLARE !
  the plot of lynxtooth's death has been pre-discussed and will be uncovered more in a private roleplay since we are out of time <3 slate is out!
  
  

• 

• 
  SLATETOOTH ✩ he/him, moor-runner of windclan, 17 moons.
  ⭃ a reclusive short-haired black tom with low white and green eyes.
  ⭃ mate to no one. son of lynxtooth x adelaide. brother to gravelsnap and ashpaw.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by ixora ↛ @.ixora on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[rivewhisper]

—————————————————————⊰⋅ ☽ ⋅⊱—————————————————————​

The shriek was satisfying, coming out of Hummingbirdheart's mouth. Rivepaw's jaws almost split into a grin as the tunneler whipped around to regard the much younger. But Rivepaw always had a penchance for things going wrong- to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Icey blues, reflecting her father, stared the older down just as the bloodlust sets into the corners of the other's eyes. Rivepaw is inexpierenced and not ready for this. She really isn't. And the moment sharp teeth set into her scruff, the one that would fling her backwards, it dawns on her she should have run.

A screech left Rivepaw's mouth as Hummingbirdheart's glee flashed before her eyes- one of the last faces she might ever see. No, it wasn't going to be like this- her paws attempted to batter at Hummingbirdheart, her teeth flashing as she tried to get a grip on her. "Let me GO- you're going to pay, I swear-" Rivepaw snarls out, but the claw was descending anyways. It felt like ice had torn her asunder, and bared her flesh to the word, while heat drove at the edges of her skin. Another scream rang out as Rivepaw's body twisted and flundered against the tunneler's hold, surprisingly strong for being so wirey.

Her eyes snapped back onto Hummingbirdheart's, ears wilting and eyes widening as pain starts to take root, coughing quietly. "I- Please, no- I can't- Papa." She cried out. "ði-" The next breath she takes aches, and aches in a bad way. Rivepaw doesn't believe she's ever hurt so badly- but the pain that comes when her face is attacked next is worse. She thrashed again, blood dripping into her eye. It was everywhere, in every pore, her nose, her mouth. She gasped, and struggled against the flow that came from her body- it was her, wasn't it? The screaming? The thing that barely ached in her ear now?

The roar of Wolfsong was dull in her thoughts. The flash of golden- of a savior- above her. Her ðir ripping that ugly mollie off of her, her ðir tearing her throat free, her eyes, Hummingbirdheart's sense of self. Rivepaw's head lolls, still on her back. The gash on her belly was deep, and wide, and full of blood- and the one upon her face, going up over her left eye and across her forehead and- her right ear was shred in two, something that Rivepaw would not realize until she next looked at herself in a puddle.

The snow is cold, she reflects a moment later. It's achingly cold, and she wants to slip into it's embrace. Perhaps it would be like the tundra her fathers told her of- the bitter chill of wind, the uncaring nature of leafbare amplified there. The roar of her name- the one her fathers had awarded to her secretly- caused her eyes to flutter. They were calling? She could barely hear them, the thumping of her heart heavy and slow in her thoughts. "Papa." She whispered, ice-blue eyes opening to stare at her blood-stained ðir. He was fuzzy around the edges, she had never noticed. "ðir." She whispered.

It is before her Papa reaches her that she is out cold. Her blood was on the ground- the blood of her fathers, the blood of the ice in the mountains. Rivepaw is lifted like a ragdoll, still small, still young, and carried from the infectious clutches of what remained of Windclan's Camp.

"text"
thoughts​

 

[Larkfeather !]

Her stance in Windclan had been shaky since Echolight’s capture, since someone had ripped the spindly warrior from her day dream where she was simply just a warrior, living her life.
Idly, she had been sitting in the clearing when the confrontation began, and how in the blink of an eye it dissolved into chaos, the maddened moorland queen showing her truest colors, her sick attachment to the stolen kits on full public display.
Cats begin to lunge at one another, and Larkfeather is on her paws, weaving through the crowd in a desperation to find her kin, her security blanket.
Heavy Snow is the first she spots, the large tom always sticking out like a blossom in leaf-bare.
”Heavy Sn-”
Her cry is cut short as she watches Sparkspirit come crashing in from somewhere in her peripheral, horror draining the blood from her cheeks as she watches her seemingly estranged littermate tackle the older tom, heart pounding with terror until Sparkspirit stops short.
Larkfeather would not watch her brother become a cold-blooded killer today.
Muted optics spot Finchpaw dashing towards Brightshine and Pinkpaw, and the warrior makes a bee-line for them as her younger kin cries to find her siblings.
”They won’t be left behind, we-” she begins to assure the apprentice before Sunstrides rallying cry cuts her off, the scent of metallic vermillion clouding her senses.
”Just go! I’ll find them!” Desperately she urges her grandmother and her kits, determination shining in her eye before lilac fur would disappear once more into the fray, determined to live true to her promise to Finchpaw.

// interacting with @FINCHPAW @Brightshine @PINKPAW & disengaging to search for @downypaw & @HEATHPAW

”Speech.”

[ YOUR SILVER LINING ]​

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[SCORCHSTREAK]

Pinkpaw’s shout is nearly drowned out by the blood that roars in Scorchstreak’s ears. The song of battle, once as good as a home to her, has quieted to a hum in her veins—she has changed, she has changed. She doesn’t want to fight only for the thrill of bloodshed anymore, she realizes as she watches Pinkpaw fling herself at the much more dangerous Bluefrost. No, Scorchstreak is not a monster. She is a protector. She is meant to defend her family, her friends, her apprentice… she is meant to defend her clan. Her clan, the WindClan that stands against Sootstar now, as united a front as they could be. They are the true WindClan—not Sootstar’s scrabbled-together rogues in clan cats’ skins.

A heartbeat’s distraction brings more pain, the sharp sting of fangs in her neck—she wrenches her head back, her own teeth bared in a glittering snarl. Blood flies in an arc to land upon the ground behind her, and golden eyes blaze with fury as she regards the younger cat. The wound hurts, but not enough to deter her. She uses Pinkpaw’s distraction to strike out with her claws once more, attempting to knock the leg that Bluefrost doesn’t lift out from underneath her. Whether or not the other falls, she aims to claw at her neck. She hopes to keep Bluefrost’s attention on herself and away from her stupid, foolish, hopelessly bold apprentice.

Sunstride calls for WindClan to turn, to flee to the horseplace, and for a moment the calico hesitates. She could end Bluefrost, here and now. All it would take is a lucky swipe to the throat, and Sootstar’s daughter would be no more. But the others are moving, are leaving, and she needs to ensure that Pinkpaw leaves along with them. "She’ll drive you all to your deaths," she spits at the young warrior, tail lashing behind her as she attempts to shove Bluefrost away from herself and Pinkpaw. With any luck, Bluefrost won’t chase after them—but if she does, Scorchstreak is prepared. Even as she makes to usher her little calico battle-partner away and to safety, golden eyes remain focused on the blue-furred warrior. "Pinkpaw, you fought well. Now get out of here, go to your mother. I’m right behind you."

She will wait until her apprentice starts moving before she takes a step toward her own safety. They are still in a den of Sootstar’s hounds, no matter whether a retreat has been called. And she does not turn her back to the enemy until she is certain that she and her apprentice are safely out of their reach.

// interacting with @BLUEFROST @PINKPAW​

[ BE A FIRE, BURN THIS DOWN ]​

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[Whisperwish]

Things become disastrous, and quickly. This has been the day that she has been waiting so long for, and yet…and yet, Whisperwish is adrift.

She takes an eternity to even check on what was going on when she hears Sootstar’s yelling, used to the shrillness by now. A mental wall arises, deaf to what was really about to occur. When the gravity of the situation finally hits, sounds of clashing claws and hollers of pain as jaws clasp around fragile skin, Whisperwish realizes the weight of this.

When she pokes her head out, it’s chaos all around. She gasps involuntarily at the sight, those loyal to Sootstar’s tyranny facing off against those who wish to see her reign end. It was only a matter of time, and yet now that the time has arose, she feels more paralyzed than ever.

There’s no way to predict how you will act in situations such as these, but Whisperwish thought she was adequately prepared. Now though, seeing so many fellow clanmates choose where their allegiances align, a pervasive sense of sadness fills every thread of sinew.

She quickly darts out of the way of fire, hiding like a coward. But that is clearly what she is, no? She has spent this entire time pretending to be something she is not, hiding in the shadows yet not acting on her wish of change. What a funny name she was granted, in retrospect.

Even as Sunstride gets his footing back and calls for a ceasefire, calling for all those not brainwashed to follow him to Horseplace, Whisperwish does not move an inch. Every muscle screams at her to run, and yet she does not. Her mind joins in tandem, but something glues her in place. Eyes widen.

Maybe it’s a sense that her time is coming to an end, she does not know. But nevertheless, she is trapped. Suspended in a moment in time, just as she always has been, here in her bastardized version of a home.​

 

[PEONYBREEZE]

❀༉˖° The way he fought was uncoordinated, flimsy, a far cry from his best. Peonypaw stumbled as he avoided Mouseflight's swipes, but the older tunneler was far too quick for him to stop. His attempt to lock his front limbs around Mouseflight was halted, and Peonypaw hissed as he got yanked back. The sound of his jaws snapping together echoed in the air around them as he tried to bite onto whoever his attacker was- but the moment he threw his head back enough to see, he froze.

@RATTLEHEART, too? Peonypaw took a few steps back, almost crouching like he wished to be one with the ground. Bewilderment showed in every bit of his expression.

"Don't fight for her?" Peonypaw repeated. It didn't matter that Mouseflight was getting away, or that Sunstride was apparently calling for everybody to retreat to the Horseplace. Not the end of our Clan, he dared to say after betraying Sootstar. "But she's my leader. Our leader! How can I go against her word?" It was insane. Unimaginable.

Peonypaw liked to think he was useful. That he had been useful ever since he was named an apprentice by her. Everybody should be useful, always- that's the point!

If it was possible, Peonypaw's eyes widened at Rattleheart's raw declaration. Of course Peonypaw cared about him too. Perhaps the two hadn't been agreeing with everything the other was doing this last moon, but that... that was natural, right? Their relationship didn't have to end this way.

His mouth wobbled as if threatened by tears. In his current state, he was nothing compared to his usual stoic and collected self; the adrenaline rush that had him move just moments prior was wearing off, and his limbs shook with the knowledge he had attacked a Clanmate. But it was necessary, was it not? "Me, too." His voice was small. He felt like a kitten again, scolded for doing something wrong but not understanding why. "Are you leaving? With Sunstride?"

°
​

​

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[DUSTWHISKER]

Lilacstem's taunts do not quell his attacks, the older warrior's smirking muzzle only fueling him further. How dare she - how dare they all? So foolish, so meager, Sunstride's defenders are - how dare they take Sootstar's reign for granted, betray his leader's trust. And to think, to think Lilacstem doesn't believe his threats; words he vows to turn into a promise, a battle-starting order fulfilled.

I'd like to see you try, the older warrior mews at him, a rumble of words nearly taken away by the roar of battle surrounding them. Dustwhisker will.

She tries to kick him away, paws missing his form completely as a patchworked body gives him the higher ground, and like the rabbits he's trained to hunt below ground, the molly trapped in his hold once more. His teeth are able to find her neck as she scrambles, hardly a bite given as she shouts for mercy, as she calls for her sister to run. Any semblance of a family reunion for Lilacstem's sister will be a solemn one, if Dustwhisker can help it.

Another aim of sharp fangs is given toward soft jugular tissue, an attempted blow that would give way to a successful hunt against a rabbit, and a successful fight against a traitor, if all goes well; if the copper taste that envelopes his mouth means anything.

"Did you see?" he retorts as he steps back from his waning opponent, as he stares down at her with narrowed yellow eyes, a crimson-tinged muzzle facing Lilacstem. His head lifts as his ears ring with the call for a retreat - for Sunstride's followers to escape the camp, the moors. A loss - a forfeit - for the traitorous group.

Swiftly, he turns back to look at his opponent, as if challenging her wounded form to rise, to move from the place she lays. Dustwhisker will strike her down, if a miracle casts her forward - Dustwhisker will make sure she rots with the stars.

// @Lilacstem
​