border IT'S GONNA CAUSE A SCENE || THUNDERCLAN PATROL

[ROARINGSUN]

〔✦〕He wonders how many scratches and bite marks he has scattered thorough his body by now, how many will scar. Roaringsun growls and hisses as ivory claws tear into his flesh, but the burning of wounds is barely felt over the adrenaline pumping through his veins. His muscles begin to ache and scream at him to stop even if for a moment — he refuses defiantly, and pushes down with his paws harder. Not until the battle is won.

Any semblance of empathy he might've felt for the starving ShadowClanners disappears at the mention of Skyclaw. How dare she bring him up at a time like this? Worse, how dare she imply he's just like Howlingstar's grandson, who murdered her? "Don't - say his name!" Vulturesong was intent on making ThunderClan out to be the bad guys here, when ShadowClan had been the ones to cowardly ambush them in the first place. "Like ShadowClan has no bad apples of their own," He rasps, though he is unable to name any in particular. "Has your Clan. . . dealt with them? Like we dealt with Skyclaw?" Once again, he doesn't know. He knows not of Granitepelt or Ghostmask, or any other warrior Vulturesong might think of; he's taunting her while she's down, simple as that.

I wouldn't be surprised if you're a code breaker like Gentlestorm. He's. . . not. Not fully. The Code has nothing against friendships in other Clans. I am loyal to ThunderClan. . . Hawkspine doesn't change that. He refuses to give Vulturesong any satisfaction by replying, but something akin to guilt flashes in his eyes briefly. A-at least. I k-know what I am,

Her kicking makes him stagger to the side. Blood-stained white fur rises and falls just as quickly, the ShadowClanner staring at him sharply despite her predicament. To face him and refuse to tear her gaze away was a feat of strength that was admirable if nothing else. But he will not kill her, not today. The act of sparring her may be seen as weakness, but he has no reason to end her here and now; she's beaten, bleeding out - let her Clan deal with her. The tom stands above her form, and sighs. Lowering his head so he's close to her ears, he speaks: "Roaringsun, of ThunderClan." The last part is more to himself that it is to her. The warrior will then bite down and grab her by the scruff, not with the intent of harming her further, but instead to drag her away from all the fightning. Stars, why is he going through all this trouble?

I took a little journey to the unknown ( Ive come back changed, I can feel it in my bones ) //

• ooc. @VULTURESONG
• ROARINGSUN —— warrior of thunderclan , mentor to berrypaw . npc x npc . littermate to npcs ✦ penned by nocthymia
  ✦ male / he/him / 16 moons & ages every 14ᵗʰ
  ✦ single / orientation & poly or mono / open/closed to romance
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— combat details here / battle notes
  
  ✦ "speech", 'thoughts', all opinions are in character
  ✦ tags — msg on discord (hypmic) for plots — toyhouse
  
• reference image here
  

  a longhaired flame sepia with low white and amber-brown eyes.

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

Claws score against the other deputy's side ( the proper deputy's, the only real deputy's. ) It's... shallow, but it's something. Leafhusk's claws still ripple white along her shoulder. Would it be Stormywing's or Roeflame's that would go from red to white? Maybe both, the two of them pressing with ThunderClan's insistence, if not its size. Roeflame's returning jab is easier on him than the wild beating of his own heart. His nip at silvery fur would not be satisfying so much as it would be necessary. To keep a hold on one of them, maybe then, she'd have any chance at all of keeping track of them both—

It's little more than a dream, though. Stormywing slams into him— not for the first time— a moment after her teeth can clamp down. Sharpshadow careens forward forward. A keening hiss is clenched between his fangs. Frenzied eyes bulge wide. Like a dog clinging to its bone, his teeth aim for a furious, stubborn grip on his opponent; but Stormywing hadn't given him the chance at a good hold to begin with. Teeth are grasping at little more than loose scraps of fur, in the end. He doesn't yearn for the taste of blood; doesn't revel in it, no, but loose clumps of fur on his tongue only manage to disappoint.

It hadn't been like this, in the mountains. That squabble had been petty, little more than a cuffed ear, some ruffled fur... And however wrong she had been then— however wrong Sharppaw had been, it embedded the jagged stones of ThunderClans arrogance into her for life. Fox-heart she was, for trying to survive; for fighting to feed the few clanmates she had while ThunderClan teemed with warriors to spare.

He stumbles the way Stormywing has been searching for; how ThunderClan always intends, shouldering their way through anyone's business, looking disgusted upon the very people they've forced into the mud. Sharpshadow is scrambling to right herself, her fur sharpened to daggers where it wasn't purpled with blood, claws curled into the earth as if it were her enemy, teeth bared in a scowl— this is how they always saw her, wasn't it? It was how they always would. This forest should have been the marsh's. It had been, once upon a time...

Sharpshadow's head spins. He doesn't mean it, really, how hate bleeds from his gaze more freely than his wounds do. It's not Roeflame he hates, even if she happened to be the one before his eyes. It wasn't who she was. Maybe it wasn't even ThunderClan.

It's this time— the umpteenth, with fangs buried in her shoulder, that she cries out, a guttural yowl that has spit slicking her lips. Again, he tries to shake ThunderClan claws off of him, but it's weaker than before. Too-slowly, he twists, and the clumsy lash of his claws toward Roeflame has his limbs burning.

His eyes squeeze open and shut. Past the frenzy of whirling claws and fur, past the animalistic slashing of his claws, wild in a way that fought for his life more than it did the mere sliver of territory ThunderClan was grasping for, he sees his clan. He sees Batchaser, pulled back from the cliff edge of death not long ago with two ThunderClanners at his ankles. He sees Raccoonstripe and Nightbird both leering toward Swansong. He sees Vulturesong... still.

It wasn't Roeflame. It wasn't Stormywing. It wasn't ThunderClan that made him hate. It was this world that continued to beat down cats that did not deserve it. Cat's that deserved more than they have ever seen in their lifetimes. Sharpshadow didn't care if he died here, but those who remained, the few ShadowClanners they had left... They deserved more than this.

" Sh-ShadowClan... " Blood welling from her back, the meat from her shoulders scrapped three times over, Sharpshadow collapses, at last. " ShadowClan, retreat! " Ternstar could punish her later, if she likes.

OOC: engaging @STORMYWING and @ROEFLAME ., CALLING FOR SHADOWCLAN'S RETREAT!

 

[Ternstar.]

TELL YOU YOU'RE THE GREATEST
BUT ONCE YOU TURN, THEY HATE US ​

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Ternstar ♛ 25 Moons ♛ Female ♛ She/Her ♛ Leader of Shadowclan

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​

★★★★★★★★★

—— Flamestar shifts, and with her goes Ternstars weight.

She cannot help the growl the bubbles up in her throat - a raw, feral thing, as sharp-edged as the molly herself. Tail whips furiously, and the other leaders words almost feel mocking. They are at a stalemate here, neither of them landing more then a glancing blow, even as she hears - sees - bodies falling around them, the stench of blood thickening in the air. The sound of screams - shouts - pleas fill her sensitive ears, and she spares the briefest of moments to contemplate. The dead are, at least, not those fighting on her side. Yet.

'Shadowclan won't win' she says - as though it even matters.

She never wanted this fight - never wanted this territory. She'd wanted nothing more to give up this pitiful scrap in quiet surrender - but Thunderclan left her no choice, with their taunts at the gathering of all places. Already she could hear her clanmates cutting words had she done anything else, can hear Amberhaze's fantic breaths and Swansongs mocking whispers ring loudly in her ears. 'We need this territory, or we'll starve.' They'd say - 'Needledrift had given her life - and for what? For them to give up without a fight?' They'd surely have mocked.

" It is you choices that have led us here, " she snarls softly, bright eyes narrowed as she leans closer. A reminder - this was Mirestars mistake, and yet now Ternstar is forced to rectify it. " I care nothing for Thunderclans meager scraps - and yet, you would rather us starve, while your numbers grow. Thrive even, " she says, her words spoken so softly that she's not even sure they reach the ears they are meant for. If they do, she doubts flamestar cares - hypocrites, all of them, lauding themselves above shadowclan with false pledges of honor.

Teeth grit, clenching so hard she tastes the warm flood of salt and bile. 'If we give in so easily now... what will stop Windclan from demanding the same?'

No, Shadowclan could've survived without this stretch of land, no matter what the worry-worts say - they have no queens succumbing to hunger, no kits yet lost to that familiar gnawing ache. They have survived far worse. But they cannot step aside so easily - bow their heads and cower away with such a challenge leveled before them so publicly. Laid out before all five clans. She holds such fragile loyalty, even her own deputy waiting with bated breath for her fall, for the day she inevitably fails.

'...We should place bets on how long this leader lasts. '

For Ternstar, there had never been a chance of winning from the start.

Paws twitch, eager to return to her attack - to return to violence and bloodshed, but instead she stands there coiled taught, like a serpent about to strike - listens to Sharpshadow's call of judgement ring out, in a moment of fragile stillness. And she does not argue - merely flicking her head in a faint motion of agreement for any who bother to double-check his words against her own, her paws carrying her large frame in retreat.

This was never a battle they were going to win.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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E V E R Y B O D Y - W A N T S - T O - B E - M Y - E N E M Y

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[HOPEPAW]

⊱⊰ The younger apprentice's jaws unlock from around her limb, and Hopepaw releases a hiss of relief as the pressure on her leg abates. She isn't made for this, for actually fighting in battles rather than lurking around the edges—but if she's going to be close enough to heal if needed, then she needs to be able to defend herself against whatever enemy launches themself at her. She manages to catch the smaller apprentice off guard with the slam of a paw down onto her skull, dislodging the other and causing her to let out a sharp cry of pain. Her shoulder bashes into the tabby's, shoving her to the ground, and she seems stunned as she quickly climbs back to her paws.

Now facing down an opponent who has their feet under them, Hopepaw lunges forward once again, attempting to swipe sharp claws across the younger cat's ear. Her focus is on driving the ShadowClanner backward, out of range to bite at her again—trying to convince Bouncepaw to leave before Hopepaw is forced to lay more injuries on her pelt. "Go home and keep your life, kit," she snarls at last, eyes narrowed as she stares down at the shorter feline. ShadowClan's deputy calls for a retreat, sending relief cracking through the girl's frame. This battle is over—it is won. ThunderClan has taken their territory back, and without having to slaughter every ShadowClanner who stands in their way. Perhaps they can also retake Sunningrocks without a terrible amount of bloodshed, as well.

an ancient spirit’s song 【❖】 will heal our wounds

• ooc: attempting to disengage with @BOUNCEPAW
• 
• 
  HOPEPAW ❯❯ she/her, thunderclan medicine cat apprentice
  
  ⊱ skinny, thick-furred lilac molly with deep copper eyes. soft-spoken and a bit of a grouch.
  ⊱ daughter of batwing and leopardtongue ; adopted by roeflame
  ⊱ mentored by gentlestorm
  ⊱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted ; does not typically like physical contact from anyone besides her family
  ⊱ penned by foxlore

​

​

 

[Wormwatcher]

Blood sings in his ears, everything is deafened but the sound of his own rapid breathing and pounding heart. His icy gaze flashes with satisfaction when Gentlestorm is unable to dodge away from his outstretched claws, he smirks as crimson stains his fur. Wormwatcher leaps back after the attack and glances at the medicine cat's threadbare ears, the chimera's parting gift to the tom before he retreated the first time. "Guess not," he hisses, tail lashing wildly in response to Gentlestorm's snarl. His eyes narrow when he notices the slightest change in the scruffy tom's stance and wretches his head back just in time to avoid the worst of his claws. Blood immediately begins to drip from his muzzle. Lips pull back to reveal pearly teeth, the chimera is spurred forward once more in a bout of rage.

The warrior intends to throw himself into Gentlestorm with the intention to sink his teeth through thick fur into his warm throat— he has never killed before... how would the guilt consume him if he killed Thunderclan's experienced healer? All these moons he has stuck hard and fast to his morals, the most important being: Do not kill. There is something about the brutish tom which sends him into a frenzy for the second time, he blacks out from uninhibited fury; could it be he is jealous for the respect that the healer holds or does he intend to prove himself in some way by taking his life? His teeth brush against silvery fur but hesitation overcomes him, even so he is not quick enough to launch a different attack, he feels Gentlestorm shift and Wormwatcher tries to slide away but he is suddenly unable to; teeth sink into his shoulder, frighteningly close to his neck. A silent shriek bubbles from his maw as Gentlestorm wretches his head to the side, pulling the chimera off balance. "...fool..." He's not sure if he refers to himself or his opponent. His eyes screw shut as throbbing pain radiates from where Gentlestorm has grasped him... for a split second he considers succumbing to his jaws, death would surely be less painful than shame.

As if by some instincts his eyes snap open and his attention whips to just over the other's broad shoulder and there, within the fray, he sees Puddlepaw— There she is.... safe....— tear her claws through a young molly's throat. Disappointment ignites a fire in him, he needs to console Puddlepaw... he needs to lecture her now... but he can't, not if he dies in this beast's grasp. Wormwatcher decides he will not continue to be flung about by the the sepia tom. He begins to thrash, attempting to pull out of his grasp to no avail. He is contorted into an uncomfortable angel in the way Gentlestorm has grabbed him, but in a final effort his paw jerks upwards and he secures his claws just above the tom's eye, and strains to rake them down his eye. If it was enough to stun the brute into loosening his grip Wormwatcher collapses and then scrambles up, heaving himself away from Gentlestorm as quickly as he can with blood splattering from his wound. "Puddlepaw... are you hurt?" he croaks, weakly weaving toward her and when he stumbles closer his pupils widen and then narrow as he assesses his apprentice's array of emotions previously unseen; he can't do anything but press into her, steering her away from the corpse of the cat she killed. He uses her as support as he heeds Sharpshadow's call to retreat, sagging against her round frame as they shuffle into the shadows of their territory.

​

something lost and never seen ⋆⁺₊.𖥔 ݁☾⋆⁺𖥔₊.⋆ ──.✦ SOMETHING TAKES A PART OF ME

• 
  
•  
• 
  
  ☾ A tall, slender 50% oriental shorthair black/blue chimera with low white with pale blue eyes
  ☾ Introspective and observant. Wormwatcher will often keep his opinions entirely to himself unless instigated to express them. He is not a gossip but he is known to eavesdrop and watch his clanmates from the edges of camp. He keeps everyone but his found family at a distance and presents a front of indifference to anyone else. Wormwatcher can be hard to interact with because of coldness but beneath it is someone who cares for each and every clanmate. Occasionally he can have major mood swings, resulting in harmful remarks and unseemly behavior.
  ☾ shadowclan warrior | mentoring Puddlepaw
  ☾ he/him ⋆ homosexual (closeted)
  ☾ 33 moons ⋆ ages every 10th

​

 

[BOUNCEPAW]

Bouncepaw feels claws barely miss her ears as she stumbles back, falling onto her rear in the process. The yowl to retreat sounds from ShadowClan's deputy and Bouncepaw's heart sunk, "we lost?" How could that be? This was ShadowClan land, they had to take it back!

From the corners of her vision she sees the shadows of her Clanmates disengaging with their opponents, some taking final swipes for good measure before fleeing. 'Go home and keep your life, kit.' The cat she had fought hissed. Bouncepaw feels the tips of her ears grow warm with anger, "I'm not a kit!" She defends herself as she stands onto paws once more, her paws trembling with adrenaline. "Don't--Don't think we won't be back!" ShadowClan would have to reclaim this land someday. This couldn't be defeat, not for long, right?

She obeys the word of Sharpshadow and rushes after her retreating Clanmates back into the depths of ShadowClan land.

OOC: Disengaging from Hopepaw and retreating​

ღ

BOUNCEPAW . BIOGRAPHY / TOYHOU.SE
✦ female (she / her) / heterosexual, single
✦ 6 moons old / ages realistically, every 1st of the month
✦ apprentice of ShadowClanc
✦ Myrtlefoot x Bristletooth / littermate to Juniperkit
✦ mentored by Batchaser
✦ penned by ava / message av.a on discord for plots!

Bouncepaw is a warm, brown she-cat with black tabby markings caging her fur. She has a broad muzzle and big, cream colored paws. White fur cascades from her chin and flows all the way down to pool at her underbelly. She has big, owlish, hazel eyes.

 

[RIBBITLEAP]

✦ㅤ─ㅤ His order is met with defiance in the form of a swift strike toward his face. It doesn't have much weight to it, but still dances over his skin and leaves a stinging trace across the side of his muzzle. Ribbitleap hisses and flinches backwards. A wavering attempt to stand his ground falters even further as his chest is dealt with a matching sting, a procession of strikes harsher than the one against his maw.

" I said, stand down! " With claws scrambling to grab hold of tortoiseshell fur, the ShadowClanner growls at his failing efforts to not lose his grip of the ThunderClanner.

She slips out from under him, and distance grows — Ribbitleap feels the cycle of their battle is about to repeat, and that he's going to have to give chase again. His limbs hurt, and the wound on the back of his leg begs for him to not spring forward after her, but he must. ShadowClan can't lose this. They —

" ShadowClan, retreat! "

Sharpshadow's croaking call fills the air and the battlefield stills. Sides heaving, Ribbitleap looks to his opponent with narrowed eyes. " Don't think you've won — " the tom warns her, claws stretching once more before sheathing as he turns away to join his retreating clanmates. If it weren't for the deputy's call, he would've won this.

[ RIBBITLEAP ]ㅤ

BIOGRAPHYㅤ⋅ㅤTOYHOUSE

✦

The surviving twin, Ribbitleap has grown with the clans without his brother at his side — an inseparable duo divided by tragedy in the face of the Great Battle. Once undistinguishable from his littermate, it is perhaps likely for his scrawny, brown tabby form to garner a sense of familiarity to neighboring oak-dwellers.

⋅ He / Him ⋅ Single
⋅ Warrior of ShadowClan
⋅ Geckoscreech † x Toad's Prowl †
⋅ Brother to Leaping Toad †; Cousin to Toadhop, Ragwortpaw †
⋅ Mentoring no one ⋅ Mentored by Rustleap †
⋅ Penned by Abri ⋅ Message _abri_ on discord for plots!

 

[STORMYWING]

She can feel Sharpshadow's body give beneath her weight, her teeth sinking deep into his shoulder as her claws anchor into the ground for leverage. The blood in her mouth is hot and bitter, the iron tang stinging her tongue. But she doesn't let go yet, not when he's still fighting, still clawing, still-

And suddenly, she's not.

Stormywing hears it before she fully registers what's happening. The desperate, guttural cry that tears from Sharpshadow's throat: 'ShadowClan, retreat!' The words pierce through the haze of battle like a claw through flesh. The smaller tabby feels the ShadowClan deputy collapse beneath her, her body giving out, the fight drained from her. It's over. Her jaws loosen. She stumbles back, breathing hard while her limbs tremble from exertion and pain. Her golden eyes are wide and trained on the crumpled form of her mountaintop ally, still breathing but horribly wounded. There's no pride in this victory, no triumph in watching him fall. Only a sickening, empty feeling in her gut.

Her ears flick toward the battlefield. The marsh-dwellers are scattering, their remaining warriors and apprentices pulling back, limping and bloodied, disappearing into the shadows after which they were named. The tide has turned. ThunderClan has won. Swallowing hard and with her injured leg tucked to her chest, she lifts her chin, "They're retreating!" There's no more reason to fight them. It's done.
​