private i left the e.r. crying ✧ rogue search

lichenstar

lichenstar

pick out her heart, with a kitchen fork
Twoleg Invasion [Spring '24] RiverClan Leader Spring Prompts [RC '24] Winter Prompt Event ['24] RiverClan 10K Yellowcough [Sitewide Event '23]
May 2, 2023
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cheets_lichen_2_headshot.png

They had greater numbers this time... there would be no more mistakes. Her eyes cast a wide arc over her patrol, counting their heads as if they would disappear if she looked away. That they might fall to pieces with gashes in their throat, unfinished dying wails on their lips. Brookstorm didn't need to be here... didn't need to witness another death.

Bitterly, she wishes she'd been there. What could she have possibly done that Lightningstone couldn't have? The answer doesn't matter but the fact she's been left to pick up the pieces twice now... makes her stomach twist. She cannot fathom the hollowness that comes with losing your litter-mates... and Lichentail only had the one. Would she be a crueler individual with the loss of the blue point..? It prompted the question if maybe Iciclefang's fate would've changed if Steepsnout had lived; would that wily molly have kept her sister more light-of-heart?

"The scent here moves towards the sun but it's fainter..." A hesitant breath... then a command, "Robinheart... come with me. We're going to scout a little further ahead while the others check this area for clues." She'd rather keep all the apprentices and mentors together, in a large group where they'd be able to circle up quickly and protect each other. She'd remember this time, for Robinheart.

Do not move.

Pressing through the crinkling reeds to follow where the scent all but becomes non-existent, she offers a murmured encouragement though it's hard to say who it's for. "We'll find something..." If for no other reason than to honor Oxbowpaw's memory. To see her killers tortured for every drop of her blood that they'd spilled.

@CRASHINGTIDE @Asphodelpaw @PERCHBERRY @Silverbreath @claypaw @robinheart
@PRICKLES @DEACON , any red water rogues open to join
CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS
FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY​
​
​
 
Robinheart moves quietly on bespeckled paws, her ears angled forward and eyes wide to take in as much stimuli as possible. To seek out a rustle of reeds or catch a wayward breath not belonging to the patrol surrounding her. She briefly meets Lichentail’s gaze as the deputy scans over each RiverClanner. There’s no mistaking the thought going through the deputy’s mind. Their patrol had to succeed; their patrol had to stay whole.

Yet it fractures in a mindful manner. Lichentail beckons Robinheart ahead while the others search for clues. The tortie is obedient, not only out of respect for Lichentail but out of determination to avenge Brookstorm’s lost littermates (why does she think so much of the stone hued warrior now?). The thought is cast aside as Lichentail speaks and Robinheart nods in agreement. “We’ll find something,” she echoes under her breath, pushing through the reeds and seeking out the non-existent scent of the rogues as if it’ll suddenly reappear at her will.
 
Claypaw moves quietly, her pawsteps practiced and placed well. Lichentail was worried, and Claypaw could not blame the deputy- the air in camp lately had been so tense with the threat of rogues, Claypaw herself was about to go mad and find the perpetrators herself. Her nose flared gently, however, at the thought. She knew deep in her gut she'd never win, and not to pick fights. Maybe that's why she hasn't done it yet.

Ears twitched as Lichentail gave them pause, her head picking up. Golden eyes nodded towards the patrol leader. "Be safe." Claypaw offered towards the deputy and Robinheart. Vision shifted back towards their patrol. Mirroring Lichentail's earlier action on accident, counting heads- and subtracting two, for those who just stalked into the reeds. Claypaw grimaced as she turned her head the other direction, nose stretching forward as if to catch wind of something that she hadn't before.
✧　°　.　♦　.　°　✧​
ooc Information
  • ooc: —
    "yuh"

  • a large, lh chocolate torbie towering, nine moons old, she/her. well-build and muscled. a drypaw. former river colony cat.
​
 

Why him?. Lichentail's threat back then was still heavily hanging over the warriors head. Never had he thought the deputy could have been so scary. Up until then he had thought her to be a safe presence to be around. Aha. How wrong he had about that!. Perchberry nervousely moved himself through the reeds unable to even look at their deputy's direction when she looked back at them to probably count how many heads she would need to behead today if they failed their mission. The pressure was to unbearable. Lichentail couldn't possible have picked a more useless warrior on this patrol. Maybe she had picked him because she actually wanted to get rid of him?. The very thought brought tears to his eyes which he quickly blinked away. I just wanna go home....He didn't wish to be here at all knowing he would do nothing but be in the way or mess something up. He had never even fought a rogue before... Please starclan keep the rogues away and if by any chance they will ambush us...let it be me who dies today. he secretly prayed to the fallen ones in the stars. That was the most useful he could be.


​
 


The reeds had become Deacon's home once more, blanketing umber fur as he lay flattened within them. They'd heard through the grapevine of the things that happened when his rogues had last ambushed the water rats; their former home had not come away unscathed, and he was celebratory of the fact. The river ran redder and redder, Deacon felt it was their turn to contribute once more. Amber eyes were starved as they watched ex-clanmates drift past the areas of the strongest scent, blinking furiously at the demographics. 'More apprentices? You gotta be off your bird to think they're gonna be fine with being here.' The opportunist scanned further, there, within the crowd was a familiar dappled figure, and the ticked tabby felt their stomach do somersaults. He stared at Claypaw like a lost sibling, Deacon bit down on his tongue to prevent himself from telling her to run. 'Dummy... these lot won't leave you alone...' They'd never claimed their Ripple Colony comrades to be off limits, a fact baked in the anger and adrenaline of first being exiled, a fact they now sorely regretted. Ah well, if they stayed their claws, perhaps they wouldn't feel guilty if hers got lopped off.

Satisfied with the rest of the patrol, Deacon took a quiet breath. He spotted their Deputy, Lichentail, move forwards with Robinheart, and licked their lips. Three... A conversation started, too muted for the exile to hear, out of sight now too, he realised, as they moved forwards. Two... A rustle in the reeds in front of them. One... "REOWRRRRR!" Deacon blindly burst forward as he called the rogues to engage. Blood pumped in their ears, their paws nearly shaking with adrenaline as a grin split their chestnut muzzle. Amber eyes locked onto turquoise soon into their excursion through the plants, and Deacon decided that they didn't need to bother running any further to find someone to fight - Smokestar's lapdog of a Deputy would do just nicely. "Watch yer neck love!" They taunted with a trill and a bark of laughter. Claws lashed out in wild abandon towards @lichentail, hoping to catch any skin or flesh they could to provoke her into a proper fight - yeah, they didn't need to try and punch her first to provoke one seeing how they'd taken two RiverClan lives already, but it was funny (and humour was just what Lichentail needed).

​
 
( ✧ ) she crouches beside deacon, bloodlust still unsatiated. there is a darkness in the depths of her good eye as she recalls the last two conflicts, the bodies hitting the ground from the claws of someone other than her. anger churns in the pit of her belly, scratches barely healed sting along her body from the claws of riverclanners. the idiots continue to patrol this border with their younger cats, despite what happened last time. beside her, deacon shifts, eyes captured by a specific figure apparently famillier to them. they seem to blink away their trepidation almost as quickly as it arrived, so the dappled molly doesn't question it.

two cats peel off from the rest, trotting forward more rapidly as the rest of the patrol waits blindly to their fate. a smirk curls at the rogue's lips, her ears flattening aginst her head in preperation. don't they know that splitting up is the worst thing they could do? ah, well. clan cats aren't as smart as she thought they were.

deacon crows their battle cry and leaps for the older looking cat, the one in charge. thistle leaps with him, bowling into the younger calico, noting the remarkable similarity between her own fur and the clanner's. fangs go to her neck, should she manage to pin the molly down, snapping closed around the red leather coller. "what's a kittypet doing in riverclan?" she mocks, beginning to pull. as she does so, she digs in with thorn sharp claws, aiming to batter at robinheart's flanks. the coller tightens around the riverclanner's throat, beginning to choke her.

// attacking @robinheart ​
 
‘Be safe.’

The words are spoken with good will but they feel cursed the farther Lichentail and Robinheart venture from the group. As much as she wants to be safe the tortoiseshell can’t shake a feeling of unease at how quickly the rogue scent faded - of how quiet the world around them was so that she could have heard the deputy’s muffled words in the first place.

And then all at once chaos envelops the patrol. A caterwaul pierces the air and reeds burst forth with streaks of fur, fangs, and claws. Robinheart scarcely has time to witness and react to the attack before she is bowled over.

Sky and sand and patchwork pelt flash before her eyes as the breath is knocked from her lungs and muscles ache from the sudden blow. Ivory blades dip toward her neck and Robinheart is able to shift just enough that they find purchase in her collar rather than her jugular. But that is where her luck seems to run out as the rogue pulls. The crimson accessory tightens against her windpipe as needle sharp claws pierce her flank. Robinheart gasps and wheezes at the pain blossoming externally and internally. Her paws scramble to find a foothold against the ground. She has to move; she has to find a way to live!

‘What’s a kittypet doing in RiverClan?’

Kittypet.

The mockery in the other’s tone, the word itself like a brand upon Robinheart’s skin, the memory of Nettlepaw and others spitting the term at her because of her collar. Was it now to be the death of her? The very thing she tried so hard to shed or to hide or to possibly embrace as former methods yielded no results. No. Don’t give up! Don’t give in!

Claws find grip in the churned earth as black ebbs at the corners of her vision. Don’t give up! Despite the pain in her flesh and the screaming in her lungs. Don’t give up! Despite the other’s larger stature and prowess. Don’t give up! Despite the uneven odds.

Don’t let them take another from Brookstorm!

Robinheart uses her wavering strength to push against the ground and away from Thistle. Her collar is vice like against her throat but she feels it shift. She pushes harder still and turns her head, heart thundering as it tries to circulate what little oxygen remains in her body. Another shift in weathered leather. Almost… Almost! Robinheart ignores the rending of flesh as she heaves herself backwards once more with the remnants of strength in her limbs.

SNAP!

Greedily do her lungs fill with oxygen as Robinheart’s collar gives way, freed from her body after moons of shackling her with shame. She does not celebrate though, not while intertwined with the rogue still. “Wh-“ she wheezes, gulping in air and aiming to shake Thistle off and get to her paws should the rogue be thrown off balance due to the collar being broken away quite suddenly. “What’s a filthy rogue doing in RiverClan?” Robinheart rasps, wincing at the welling of blood on her flanks but remaining focused on her foe.

// farewell collar! battling @THISTLE.
 
*+:｡.｡ Okay, disclaimer, Prickles had never actually hurt anyone before. Usually, they were getting chased out of territories and roughed up for even attempting to take shelter in claimed lands. This past moon has been the only taste of power Prickles has ever truly had. And boy, did they love it! Still, they weren't foolish enough to believe they'd earned it independently. Perhaps that was why they longed for the formation of their clan with the rest of the loners - for only in a community, surrounded by big, battle-hungry cats did Prickles stand any sort of chance at survival. At living a life free of fear and shame for their pathetic disposition. They didn't want to lose that. Somehow, they needed to convince the other rogues that they were someone worth sticking around with.

So the skittish cat would scratch and bite at their skin, their pelt prickling with more itchiness the longer they bathed in the poison ivy of anticipation. They tried hard to bite back the nervous laughter that bubbled behind their throat as they knew their pelt was far too uncanny among the greens and browns of the riverclan flora to risk further attention-grabbing, especially when Deacon looked like he was waiting for the exact right time to rush forth. The guy was cool, making Prickle's pelt itch something fierce with the need to impress him. Now or never -

But of course, Prickles balked when Deacon lunged forth, followed soon after by Thistle. Stressing and giggling like a hyena, Prickles's eyes flitted from cat to cat, claw to blood splatter, fight to exit. He'd learned some moves from Sasha, so while he didn't have the most experience, he wouldn't die...r-right? No! No time for panic just - ah ...

Creeping through the reeds, he did his best to ignore the fire under his fur as he set his gaze on Deacon and the woman he was currently grappling with. Impress him! Impress him! Wildly, he filtered out every thought besides that singular goal, and once he'd gotten into position behind the blue-pointed stranger, he was ready.
With a wild scream, the mangy rogue would leap from the shadows, aiming to land atop Lichentail's back, and - perhaps inspired by Deacon's comment - specifically aimed their point of impact for her neck, hoping to hit her with the full force of their body weight . The blow was a dangerous one if it landed true on the back of her neck, but if she turned just right - perhaps startled by his strangled cry - he might still cause some hefty damage to her throat.
*+:｡.｡ Updated 1/9/23

  • Attacking @lichentail alongside @DEACON


  • GENERAL:
    ✘ Prickles
    ✘ DMAB— He/They — Bisexual
    ✘ 12 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
    ✘ Member of the red water rogues

    COMBAT:
    ✘Physically medium | mentally medium
    ✘ Attack in bold #f35336
    injuries: None currently
​
 
Her heart panged watching former clanmates such as Claypaw and Perchberry. She held no love for Lichentail, not after what she had tried to kill Deacon. Her friend in this entire mess. While she didn't care much for Robinpaw, she wouldn't fight an apprentice. Despite what the other's thought of her, she had morals. She couldn't harm kits whatsoever and for apprentices unless attacked she would fight back. Killing was the last thing on her mind when it came to them. Warriors on the other hand were free game, as long as it isn't Kaede... Deacon was in charge of this ambush and she had only followed in order to keep him safe as well as Prickles. Prickles has become someone dear to her. To think, she'd gain a friend. He was younger than her, a tom that hadn't lived many moons. He was weak and yet he still came here with her and Deacon even though he had the option to stay back with the others.

The red tom had asked her to train him and that she did. Not because she wanted him to kill others, but to protect himself from being killed. The last thing she wanted was for the young tom who she had grown to care for was to die. Speaking as such she stood behind hidden in the reeds even after Deacon called for them to engage in battle. She watches as her brown furred friend attack Lichentail. Don't die Deacon. I know you're having fun, but fun means nothing when you're dead. As for Thistle, she's attacking Robinpaw. Sasha is just glad that she doesn't have to lay a claw on the Riverclan apprentice.

When she turns her head back a flash of red passes her and with amber eyes, Prickles can be seen attacking Lichentail. PRICKLES! A heavy sigh escapes her maw while she emerges from the reeds. Ugh, the both of you worry me. I don't want to drag any of your bodies back. The only ones not engaged in battle are Perchberry and Claypaw. She draws near Perchberry, claws sheathed. I will not fight you. While she not friends with the black and white tom, she knew him ever since he was born. They were about ten moons apart, after all. In the moons she had known him, he was quite the nervous tom. I can't imagine you laying a claw on anyone. You've always hated that. She trusts him that she approaches as if there wasn't an order for her death. That he was obligated to strike her down.

"Why are you here?" Is this bizarre? That Sasha is here? That she is not attacking him or Claypaw who is nearby? "I've known you since you were a kit, when we were both in the colony. I will not fight you. Get out of here, please." I don't want your blood on my paws.
〤 take a good look
  • speaking to @PERCHBERRY , open for attacks! Girlie is unaware Riverclan wants her dead
  • — sasha / rogue / feminine pronouns / 26 moons
    — pansexual / single / looking / open to flirting and crushes
    — may powerplay minor harm / can powerplay healing
    — biography / @ on discord for plots
​
 
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cheets_lichen_2_headshot.png

The notion to be safe is almost laughable... Claypaw says it from a place of anxiety and Lichentail knows that but.... Why wouldn't they be? Wasn't the whole reason they were here to gain information, an advantage even? Safe.... What more could they want than to not feel hunted in their own reeds, amongst the rivers' quiet bubbling....

She flicks a broken tail in silent acknowledgement, a thank you, even if the whispered request is fruitless. It wouldn't be her that determines success or failure, not really... not when Silverpelt loomed above them like a mocking sentinel. We watch, they seem to say, tauntingly, But we won't help.

The world falls silent... and even with Robinheart at her side, it feels staggeringly lonely to sit in that emptiness. It draws on for what feels like eons before a caterwaul from the brush reveals what their noses couldn't have picked up on- another well-placed trap. The scents had disappeared because they'd stopped here... waited.... muted the trail in order to make it seem stale. Forlornly, she looks to the tortoiseshell girl beside her, aware of the price they may just pay.

It is intimately familiar by this point, with Lightningstone and Oxboxpaw freshly buried in the dirt.

The flash of brown that lunges towards her with gleeful cries of fake concern and her vision runs red. "My neck will be fine- I'll take yours though, just in case!" His paws move quickly to score through the scar-stained skin of her shoulder, a frustrating but minimally damaging success to begin this dance. She sees the other scout tumble, sees crimson gripped like a rope around her neck- Her priority needs to be Robinheart- the others aren't that far behind, they can get help, they can send someone back to camp for reinforcements maybe, she takes a step as if to move past Deacon entirely (though she loathes the missed chance to crush his stupid face into the muck)-

Where the hell did that screech come from? Just how many rogues were sitting here, lying in wait?

By the time she registers to turn, to reassess the numbers, the battlefield, to adjust, a weight lands at her shoulders first, sending the deputy reeling muzzle-first into the mud- "That's-" Whatever retort for the honor-less tactic of outnumbering one cat dies in her chest when the rest of that weight slams onto the back of her neck, crushing her windpipe into the mire.

Reflexively, she gasps for a breath that eludes her, vision shaken and blurred by the stunning strike. Deacon stands in multiples somewhere to her left- Robinheart tears herself to freedom (she hopes that's the sound of leather shredding and not skin)- gracelessly a set of claws dig into the ground to try to shove herself up but strength is lost to a tar pit of struggling lungs.

Who jumped me from behind? How'd they get there so quickly? How many are there? A hundred questions run in rampant circles in her head- Had Deacon really recruited an entire, small army of his own to enact revenge? And what the hell kind of revenge was this? Murder to vindicate his bloody paws? She'd hardly been able to get a claw on him with Sasha's legs wrapped around her- hadn't been able to even enact a fraction of justice for his insane retaliation.

We said 'leave in peace.'

Why did you hear 'slaughter every last one of us?'


// stunned & pinned by @PRICKLES
CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS
FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY​
​
​
 
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Like a dog, the warrior followed the deputy's command with ease. He simply fell into line, even after his outburst. The brown tabby's nature was subservient to those in power, normally rarely making a scene. As of late, thoughts of anger and sadness plagued his mind - making it increasingly difficult to ignore the thoughts that he could once suppress. He followed along on this patrol and began his task with the others. His mismatched eyes glance around, dancing along the horizon to see if he could see anything.

That is when he heard yowls coming from another cat in the direction which Lichentail and Robinheart headed. He didn't even wait for the others and ran towards the direction they headed. Unsheathing his claws in one swift motion, the tom was not going to wait to check if the two were safe. Thankfully, he didn't. He let out a soft, barely audible hiss as he saw Deacon and several rogues. "Shit." The normally lazy, docile feline rushed towards Deacon. Crashingtide lunged towards the brown tabby with claws unsheathed, aiming square for the tom's chest to pin. It was a risky move, but one that Crashingtide knew would be difficult to escape once pinned.

@DEACON
​

RIVERCLAN ✦ WARRIOR ✦ 26 MOONS ✦ BROWN TABBY​
​
 
. ✧ ⚜ ✧ .​

The river cats toddle along, oblivious to the danger, and Kingbird kneads the ground with a sharp grin marring their scarred face. Pale yellow eyes look each cat over, wondering which one they might take for their own, whose face they might tear to shreds. It would need to be a good one — not too small, but not too big either. Oh, they do love a good fight… but they love to win more. And after all they’ve done to the other free cats around these parts, they deserve to shed some blood for their crimes.

Deacon doesn’t give them a signal so much as he throws himself at the clan cats, yowling like a cat possessed. Kingbird follows along with a pounce like a kitten in play, bouncing in the wake of the larger tom. There: fiery pelt, fiery-er eyes, large but young-looking, surely ill at ease in growing paws. Their lips stretch into a grin of sincere delight, equal part joy and bloodthirst, and they throw a bright, ”Here, fishie fishie!” as sole warning before attempting to bowl the teenager over, claws scrabbling over her ribs and teeth reaching for her chest and throat in the hope of sinking into the warmth of her jugular. They learned that one from Ven; it always seems to work for her.
​
ooc info‎
  • attacking @claypaw !​
  • ♕ KINGBIRD they/them, red water rogue, 23 moons
    ⭃ a small, mostly white cat with splashes of golden-red fur. Petty, petulant, childish, playful, violently insecure. Very physical in their affection and hostility alike. ⭃ ref
    ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ mildly-challenging adversary, will start fights, will not run, will not show mercy
    ⭃ penned by Kangoo on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
    ​
 
The patrol went wrong, and fast. As the two of them stepped away for a moment, and mere heartbeats later a yowl went up in the air. Claypaw’s fur stood on end, vision swinging towards the source of the noise. Perchyberry was nearby, so Claypaw took a shifted step- vision snapped towards Asphodelpaw for a moment. Could she turn her back, trust it to someone who clearly already hated her so? Her teeth grit as Sasha stepped from the reeds, far calmer then the rabble surrounding Lichentail and Robinheart.

Claypaw was faintly aware of Crashingtide starting after the rogues upon Lichentail and Robinheart, eyes narrowing sharply towards Sasha. She spoke sharply, tone ever-cool but full of prickles and doubt. Who knows how many heads were lurking in the reeds, ready to snap down? "Leave? Leave the clanmates who feed us and house us for what, starvation?" Claypaw spoke over Perchberry, taking a challenging step forward.

She had hardly been kin to the colony before the flood. A scrap of a kit, one with more fighting spirit than meat upon her bones, barely healed wounds upon her face. She tried her best to keep to herself, away from the other cats. She did not want friends. She just wanted survival.

Kingbird didn’t seem to care how old Claypaw was- no, it was probably a simple decision to pick somecat ‘weaker’ then the rest. The warning came swift enough that the rogue-born cat who had ample moons to learn how not to get hit stepped to the side. Claws snagged at her ribs while she avoided, a snarl leaving her at the white-hot pain that burned into her side. Claypaw’s chin tucked further down, a stray claw hooking over her muzzle above her nose.

When the dust settled, Claypaw was away from Kingbird. "Does yelling out your attack normally work for you?" She taunted. Claypaw had been good at that, too. Taunting. It made the enemy messy, angry- unthinking. Teeth bared as Claypaw leapt back into the fray, claws arcing down to rip directly between the eyes of the rogue. If successful, she’d leap forward, attempting to slam her body into Kingbird to knock them backwards roughly.

Briefly distracted as she stepped backwards, shoulders heaving and gold optics flaring as her words, sharp like talons, were loud enough for both Deacon and Sasha to hear. "Is this your idea of vengeance or something? A murder you caused, but your pitiful excuse of trying to talk Perchberry into running? Letting these yellowbellied excuses of cats attack us?" Claypaw’s head snapped towards Sasha now, blood dripping down the front of her muzzle and down her side.

The pain did not blind her. It fueled her. It fueled the rage in her body, the itch to tear the rogues limb from limb for ambushing her. Perhaps that did make her her mother’s daughter.

// attacking @Kingbird and talking to @SASHA mainly, and @DEACON at length!

✧　°　.　♦　.　°　✧​
ooc Information
  • ooc: —
    "yuh"

  • a large, lh chocolate torbie towering, nine moons old, she/her. well-build and muscled. a drypaw. former river colony cat.
​
 

It didn't take long for chaos to break out. Left to right rogues charged out from the reeds to attack his clanmates in all directions (or so it felt like). In that moment he felt paralyzed, unable to move as he watched the chaos unfold itself with wide fearful eyes. It was like a nightmare that had become reality. Perchberry had no idea how to react to this chaos. He was scared, terrified and in his fear were frozen in place not even noticing Claypaw beside him.

Sasha appearing out from the reeds was what brought him back into the present. It had felt like forever since Perchberry last had seen her even if it just had been a couple of weeks at most. He had so many questions to them but nothing came out.Cedarblaze had been a warrior he had secretly been admiring and her bedrayal to the clan had come as an shook. What had brought her to a such decision?. " Why..why wo-wouldn't I be?" his soft answer easily got overthrown by Claypaw's enraged voice. He find it a hard time to understand why Cedarblaze had picked this path for herself after everything they had gone through?, together. Now she was becoming just like the rogues who had hurt them.

Their conversation got interupted as another rogue jumped through the reeds in an ambush against Claypaw. "Clay - !" he was about to call out to them, to warn them but the apprentice had done a splendid job on defending herself. Oh. Right. He had done a poor job to be much of any help there but he was glad to find Claypaw to be fine despite the blood that run down her face. It could have been worse for sure. She could have got killed all while he allowed himself to get distracted. Perchberry did not want her blood on his paws. He had to do his part as a warrior!. He had to make sure Claypaw and him get out of this alive!...or at least her.

" Claypaw do-don't let your eyes of the enemy..i will keep your back protected!." Perchberry would say lowly to them as he put himself into position as he backed up so his back would meet hers. His heart were racing like crazy, his fear overflooding inside of him as he swollowed nervousely. Claws slided out to dig deep into the dirt, his legs trembling while he tried to keep himself steady, focused and ready for any attacks that might come their way.

Finally, his attention went back to Sasha. " I -i will not run!. Ca-can't you see that you're be-becoming like them." the rogues who had hurt them back then, who had killed his very father!. Jawstrike had died protecting this land so how could she?. How could she hurt them just like they had when knowing very well how it felt to get hurt like that?. Tears blurred this dark blue eyes that was devastated over this whole situation. He didn't want to fight them but it didn't look like he had no other choice. To think this would be his first real fight. He was absolutely terrified.

// talking to @SASHA and @claypaw but passive to attacking for now !!
he is open to getting his ass kicked by the way >:) as long you don't kill or maim <33




​
 

✧ . Though he’s not too… fond… of having to work with others or the others he has to work with, Urchin has to admit it— the band of rogues he’s stuck with have been doing a damn good job at wreaking havoc upon the lowly clan. He’s heard tales from the others, heard of their bloodshed, their kills. If they keep this up, then stars, oh lovely stars, RiverClan may be no more. And this home of his, of theirs, will be free for them to walk upon again.

He is among the group of rogues this time when chaos descends on a party of clan cats, shadowed fur bursting out from the cover of reeds, unsheathed claws searching for River-flesh to tear into. Amidst the fray, Urchin finds difficulty finding an opponent — everyone seems paired up, though upon closure inspection…

Night-shaded limbs move swiftly toward brown fur, toward black and white. Only one is familiar to him, and the duo doesn’t exchange strikes, but words — a third speaking among them too. Conspiring, perhaps, turning his group mate against the rogues, he wonders.

“ Making a friend, are we? “ he sneers at the black and white clan cat before surging forward to strike him down, claws aiming to sink into the cat’s chest and pin him down. Cold gaze stares down at his chosen opponent, foolish in striking conversation on the battlefield. Weak, just as the other clan cats. “ Now’s not the time for that. “​
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✦ ABOUT
  • // attacking @PERCHBERRY !
  • URCHIN ✦ AMAB. He / Him. Red Water Rogue.
    ✧ . A black and white tom with cold, blue-green eyes.
    ✧ . NPC x NPC
    ✧ . Mentored by himself.
    ✧ . Peaceful and healing powerplay permitted!
    ✧ . Penned by Abri ‣ @_abri_ on discord, feel free to dm for plots!
    ✧ . " Speech " ; Attack
​
 
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A third rogue joined and now him and Claypaw were completely outnumberd!.Oh dear stars, how many were they?. How were they suppose to win gainst this?, with all odds against them. Perchberry head swung around to meet the rogue who charged towards them. He had all the intention to dodge away from the attack but then much to his horror realized Claypaw was standing right behind him. If he moved away she might become this rogue target instead. That wasn't something he could allow to happen. Perchberry decided to face the attack straight on as he went up on his back legs and attempted to grap a hold of the rogue shoulders with his claws before he would get send down to the ground, hitting his back with a painful 'thump'. Gasping for the air that had briefly left his lungs the warrior stared up at his attacker through half closed eyes, teeth clenched together as the pain sink through his chest by the claws that kept him in place.

This was bad, this was so bad!. Was this it. Was this how he was going to die? just like Clayfur and Lightningstone had?.

Perchberry felt helpless in that moment and all he could think about was how disappointed his father would be at him for dying the same death they had. He could already hear them scolding them, calling them weak and worthless. Weak like a fish on land. For a split second he could even have sworn that he had seen the phantom of his fathe's ghost standing right behind the rogue to glare down at them with disgust. All he could think himself doing was to apologize that he had failed to become the warrior his father had wanted them to be. He should never have been made into a warrior!. Tears started to burn inside his eyes and he was about to give up to accept his fate but...suddenly he saw Shinningsun face in front of him. That glow of a light beaming through the darkness that had wrapped itself around him. That warm well traced smile shines through giving him a sense of warmth and hope.

That was right he couldn't give up like this. If he did he would never get to see them again.

With a spark of something new awkening inside of him, Perchberry used his forepaw as he attempted to slash the rogue cheek with it to force it to the side right after that in hope to have stunned them the black and white warrior attempted to use his back legs to kick the rogue underbelly in hope to get them off them.

He had to fight, he had to live.

// attacking @URCHIN

​
 
*+:｡.｡ They were just supposed to find clues!

Asphodelpaw practically presses his nose to the ground, sniffing at the earth for signs of fresh rogue appearances. It still bothers him to no end how convenient it is that they were suddenly being harassed by loners after Sasha and Deacon had been exiled. I mean, there was no way there were secretly Ripple Colony cats just waiting for their chance to strike...could there be? Or had Sasha and Deacon's exile somehow infuriated the clanless population enough to come together and strike out against Riverclan? He had so many questions, and he found his gaze drifting to Claypaw and Perchberry as he sniffed for clues. Had they...

Lichentail and Robinheart take their leave but Asp doesn't pause in his sniffing. His ear twitches at Claypaw's request for their deputy to stay safe, and again he mulls over the truth of her loyalty while warring with the potential that the sincerity in her voice ought to be enough to prove her loyalty. He pushes his nose into some bushes, frowning when he notices the remains of a half-eaten mouse, something a true warrior would never have left behind. The smell of blood, though old now, is so palpable he might -

And then chaos breaks out.

Asphodelpaw races into the fray with one thought in mind - keep his deputy safe. No matter his misgivings with her orders and forgiving nature, nor the doubts his clanmates have with him about his ability to work with others, Asphodelpaw is a riverclanner through and through and will happily lay his life for his clan. But by the time he races into the fray, the fight has already reached it's climax. He knows this, because Lichentail is already pinned by the back of her neck into the murk.

Horror lances through the apprentice like an icicle stabbing him through his back. He's tempted immediately to lunge forth, but he knows he won't make it in time - instead, he sees an alternative -

Asphodelpaw lunges at @DEACON , aiming to bite him in the shoulder and hopefully help hold him down or at least distract him long enough for "Crashingtide! Help Lichentail!" it's not so much an order as it's a plead. He longed to do it himself, but Crashingtide is bigger, more experienced, and will hopefully see that the tide is not on their side, and once he frees Lichentail help drag her away to safety!

*+:｡.｡ Updated 11/22/23
  • Attacking Deacon, interacting with @CRASHINGTIDE

    //apologies for interrupting the fight sobbb I just felt like a cheater if I had Asp push Prickles off Lichen lmao



  • GENERAL:
    ☆ Asphodelpaw
    ☆ DMAB— He/Him — Unsure
    ☆ 8 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
    ☆ Mentored by Crashingtide
    ☆ Riverclan — Apprentice




    COMBAT:
    ☆ Physically easy | mentally medium
    ☆ Attack in bold #9fc3fc
    injuries: None currently
​
 
. ✧ ⚜ ✧ .​

The little clancat has fire in her — Kingbird cackles as claws trace a burning line between their eyes, too shallow to be blinding but still enough that blood trickles in their eyes. The exhilaration of a good fight quickly dissipates into annoyance when she slams into them; quick on their paws, they jump back and keep their footing but their bones still smart from the rough shove. And she dares chat with other cats while facing Kingbird! Rude! These clan cats truly respect nothing — trying to distract Sasha while the other cat is having a conversation with someone already and the two of them are fighting...

”And does ignoring your opponent normally work for you?” They spit, baring their teeth. Their voice turns whiny as they go on, ”You’re fighting me, fishfood, come on! Look at me!” Taking advantage of her focus on Deacon and Sasha, Kingbird darts forward again, claws arching towards her ear in an attempt at a distraction while they bend their head low, trying to close their jaws around one of her paws.
​
ooc info‎
  • fighting @claypaw and not watching their back at all​
  • ♕ KINGBIRD they/them, red water rogue, 23 moons
    ⭃ a small, mostly white cat with splashes of golden-red fur. Petty, petulant, childish, playful, violently insecure. Very physical in their affection and hostility alike. ⭃ ref
    ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ mildly-challenging adversary, will start fights, will not run, will not show mercy
    ⭃ penned by Kangoo on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
    ​
 
She was aware of Perchyberry moving to defend her flank- shouting at her to keep her eyes forward. She knew that. Her breathing became harder, sharper- her vision switched towards the reeds that suddenly parted with a new attack, mismatched golden eyes settling on Urchin as Perchberrry was attacked. Claypaw didn't have a chance as Kingbird yowled at her. Vision snapped towards the smaller, and a snarl left her mouth. Now, Claypaw wasn't one to believe in the ancient clan shit that the elders spouted about, but damn, did she feel like a lion.

Kingbird did indeed snag at Claypaw's ear, tearing just below the scar that already existed. The attack, however, had her moving backwards with her head down, paw safe from the snap. "You claw like a fly bites. Annoyance." That's all that Kingbird was to Claypaw, despite the blood that dripped from her. Visions of Hazel flashed in her mind as she leapt forward, aiming to pounce on top of Kingbird and rip her claws into the shoulders of the rogue.

This would separate her from her clanmates but- Claypaw leapt over Kingbird, baring her teeth. Briefly she caught vision of Asphodelpaw leaping into the fray, and while most of her hated every hair in the body of that cat, at least he was being useful to the issue at hand. Eyes flicked back towards Kingbird as she spoke again, fangs on full dispaly. "Well? You should leave. Clearly you can't beat me." Leave. Leave, damnit, so I can go help them!
✧　°　.　♦　.　°　✧​
ooc Information
  • ooc: —
    "yuh"

  • a large, lh chocolate torbie towering, nine moons old, she/her. well-build and muscled. a drypaw. former river colony cat.
​
 
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