MY SOLDIERS, MY SONS [WC Rogues]

[SOOTSTAR]

The queen descends from her hills, her kingdom, and the protection of her borders. Instead of striding forth silently, in her usual manner, she walks with heavy paws. Breaking twigs and kicking stones, she wants the rogues- the beastly cats of this forest to know of her presence. Their new ruler was here, and by the time she left the forest she will have them bowing down to her, whether they know it yet or not.

Sootstar feels their gazes from the shadows, their critical and judging eyes piercing through her. The blue smoke doesn't mind, critical, judging, and cruel were the exact type of cats she needed. They were perfect just as Duskfire and Weaselclaw had promised from their own expeditions.

The petite yet fierce she-cat scales up onto a large tree stump, it was not at impressive as her stone throne back home... but this would do. This would give her the leverage to rally them, to make these cats WindClanner's. From the corners of her eyes, she can see her own clan-mates spreading out beneath the stump, their support and bravery only feeds their leader's confidence.

A cool breeze settles through the forest, blowing at her cheek and chest fur as she opens her maw. "I am Sootstar, StarClan chosen founder and leader of WindClan, the bringer of dawn for the five clans." Sootstar and WindClan were the very first, even if only by seconds. The blue molly believed it was only fair to title herself the dawn of all that the forest now was. She cranes her head and straightens out her shoulders, high and proud she stands before the rogues of the forest. "My warriors- my deputy has informed me of you all. Told me about the lack of prey they've found in this forest, about the thick and vile stench of coyote. I see the fresh battle wounds on you all, I see bones jutting through your pelts. WindClan is here to save you, look at my warriors!" Her tail flicks in their direction, "Look at how well-fed and strong they are... And I can get you- all of you there too."

"The hills are flushed with prey, fat rabbits commonly dropped in our fresh-kill pile even long after the blessings of green-leaf have departed. We have a medicine cat- a cat trained in the arts of healing. All those red and puffy wounds will be no more under his guidance and care, WindClan will make you strong... and all you have to do is vow your loyalty to WindClan. To I, Sootstar." Sootstar believes she has them all right under her claws, surely they'd choose WindClan over remaining here to starve and get chewed up by coyotes? Yet she's learned much does not come easy being a leader, you have to fight for it. Her eyes dance, looking for any sign of a rogue itching to open their mouth.

// @Gin @Duskfire @WEASELCLAW (any other windclan warriors are welcome to this thread)
there is no posting order, you do not have to wait for anyone! This goes for all rogues/windclan cats ​

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Spoiler: TAGS ★ 10/19

( primary character / "speech" / ic opinions )​

╰ ★ ჻ 001 GENERAL INFORMATION ,
· SOOTSTAR, female — she / her
╰ ‣ 31 moons . pisces. ages on the first
╰ ‣ windclan leader . marsh-born . believes in starclan
╰ ‣ former soldier of the marsh group

╰ ★ ჻ 002 VISUALS & AESTHETICS ,
· DOMESTIC FELINE, smells like heather and wet dirt , status — 100%
╰ ‣ blue smoke . scarred chest, difficult to see through fur . green eyes

╰ ★ ჻ 003 MENTALITY & MANNERISMS ,
· ESTJ-A ❝ EXECTUTIVE ❞ , Slytherin, Lawful Evil
╰ ‣ Cunning, brash, fierce, confident, self-reliant, envious & selfish
╰ ‣ finds great difficulty in relating to others . can be cruel, usually shows mercy to those she can find sympathy with
╰ ‣ Appreciates titles such as "miss, m'am" etc

╰ ★ ჻ 004 INTERACTIONS & RELATIONSHIPS ,
· SOOT CLAW x PEBBLE BREEZE, sister to Pebblenose
╰ ‣ heterosexual. romantically interested in Weaselclaw
╰ ‣ mother to owlpaw & shrikepaw
╰ ‣ average fighter . skilled hunter .
╰ ‣ will start fights . unlikely to flee .
╰ ‣ attack in underline . penned by user @ava.

 

[Nathanos]

HELLO, MY NAME IS MR FEAR​

---

Oh, he can smell them. They weren't like the coyotes, or the stench of crow-food. They weren't the smell of festering wounds, either. WindClan was something else entirely. They were of heather and dry winds and perhaps a hint of something floral. It's not something the rogue's are used to, so the towering tom can't help but scrunch up his nose. The words of the woman upon the splintered old stump ring through the land, as she proclaims herself Sootstar. She promises blessings that seemed far too good to be true, and for what purpose? Why did she need a bunch of rogues? Nathanos supposed that didn't matter much, if she could really give what she claimed.

This was the first time he had laid eyes upon her, and she upon him. She was smoky, small in build, with billowing fur. In comparison, Nathanos was towering upon a long legged frame, brutal scarring tearing across his features, from the gruesome X carved into his chest to the shredded features of one missing eye. Where her coat was dark and misty, his was of dust and mud, of earthen hues and jagged stripes.

The brute is in view now, stepping from biting shade to peer boldly up at the leader. He's quiet, thoughtful, and listening. What she offered was enticing, but Nathanos had always been uncertain of WindClan's offer. Many of the rogue's intended to join in the hopes of staging some sort of coup, but after the coyote attack, the survivors had been cruelly reminded that this land was barren of food or safety. It seemed Sootstar's offer was more enticing than ever. Would she be a better leader than Gin?

Nathanos had never considered himself treacherous. He was loyal to his core. He followed orders. He didn't argue about morals, or... other senseless foolery. He was a soldier, and he acted as such. Gin was his leader, but there were clearly some failings in his control. Cats were starving. The coyotes were killing them, picking the cats off one by one. Leaf-bare was nearly upon them all and there was nary a scrap to eat. Desperation made even the most loyal cats waver in their might, it seemed. But for now, the looming tom is silent, fiery eye intense upon Sootstar's form. He would wait and see how all of this played out before making any brash decisions.​

 

[Jasperglare]

Jasper watched as the smallest cat he's ever seen in his fucking life hopped up on the stump and started talking, his mouth agape. He wasn't stupid, she had the posture of a leader and he knew size didn't matter, but still.

If he sniffed her, she'd get stuck in his nose.

And the other Windclan cats too, they were small!

SMALL!!

A paw smacked him. Spiderlily narrowed her eyes at him with a judging frown. "You're being rude. Stop it."

"But SPIDERLILY. "

"Shut up."

Spiderlily watched Sootstar. She was offering something better than what she had, and it was only common sense to the molly that she go with her. She looked at her fellow rogues, all varying degrees of hungry and wounded.

They DID need care and food, and to be away from these damnable coyotes......

Yeah, she's made up her mind. She just wanted to gage reactions first.


Jasper was a little more hesitant though. He studied the Windclan cats more. He was wary, untrusting. There just had to be more to this deal.... It sounded too good to be true. He didn't say anything, but his wariness was clear.

​

 

[ODETTE]

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---

Odette had become a rather silent observer after the Windclan trio descended upon the half-assed, ragtag group of survivors (she dare not consider them a real group, there was nothing keeping them from tearing eachother apart to come out on top). While the toys talked and chattered about possibly destroying the clan from the inside out, taking their land and their resources, she gleefully pondered what must've transpired to bring the self-righteous clans to this new low.

And maybe, maybe now she would have her answer.

From up on high, as she was oft to do for her observations and games on balconies and roofs and sils, the smoke molly, accompanied by two of the warriors from before- 'The second and the uncomfortable,' she recalls- and many others, takes her focus this time. This one, Sootstar, she walked with the purpose of bones crunching into dust beneath her paws, this was the true mastermind. And Odette wanted to pick her brain.

"You come as a savior, descend from Eden to pull the wrathful from perdition, but what does that gain you? What has driven you to pull from the thorns and weeds, the poisonous and deceptive, instead of make more fruit in your paradise from those who already grow there?" She speaks as the royal of a fallen kingdom, one she brought down with her own claws. She did not need a throne to make cats dance like twoleg puppets until she declared their story done.

What had driven the self proclaimed and star studded Queen of the Moors to not bide her time? To not wait for children to be born into her doctrine and instead convert others?

"Loyalty is a high price, but it is also a hidden one." It came as part of a deal, it was never everything. She knew that well, she knew exactly how easily 'loyalty' could be made to stand in place of. ​

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[Gin]

A slow reverberating cackle rises from his throat as he wanders forward, the smell of the WindClanners alerted him long before the sound of them did, but he felt his uncertainty slough off him like water rippling over his pelt at the sight of the self-proclaimed leader, founder, dawn bringer-how laughable, was she making all of these up right now on the spot? The brown tabby moved forward and stopped just a little alongside and ahead of where Nathanos stood, pausing to glance back at the others present and Odette was already chirping her odd cryptic comments; useful that one, but an absolute ninny.

"I'm Gin, leader here, no fun little titles I'm afraid, but I certainly don't need to..." Green eyes glance at her paws and sweep upward, his lips curl back into a smirk, "..compensate for anything." She was hardly threatening. A gray little furball with a big mouth, he had seen her deputy on the previous visit and pondered what sort of cat would give such a brute orders and yet she was not even remotely what he envisioned in his head. Was she even old enough to have lost her kitten fluff because he couldn't tell with how dark her pelt was. Ridiculous to expect them to bow to this.
No matter, all his inhibations fled him at the sight of her, he'd made his decision. "We will not be joining your little clan and we will not be bowing to likes of you. I'm going to give you a moment to gather your dignity and leave before I kill you myself."
Let the others complain, he hardly cared, but he'd made his decision the moment she appeared before them acting like some beacon of hope. They didn't need hope, they needed food and he'd assemble a group to investigate this WindClan when she'd left to get a gauge on that situation.
Attack from within? No. They'd be slaughtering all of them from the outside like a pack of coyotes themselves.
​

 

[GHOSTSTRIKE]

---

Loyalty wasn't easily won from a cat like Ghost. He'd been deserted and betrayed too many times in the past to go blindly throwing his trust in others, and the worst part was that half of those times hadn't even been something he could blame his comrades for. Their lifestyle had been a dangerous one, one that none of them had even had a choice in. They'd been born to fight and die, fully expected to be torn apart by dogs at some point in their careers before being replaced by the next wave of cats from the breeding program, and quite frankly not every cat was cut out for the work. Staring down a pack of dogs that wanted to make a meal out of you was enough to send any sane cat running, and definitely enough to make them take precedence over their own life before their squads.

Impulsive abandonment and selfish tactics to preserve ones life weren't the only forms of betrayal he was privy too, though. Sometimes, the cats you trusted the most were the ones to stab you in the back, and he had no interest in finding himself in that position again. It was a difficult line to walk, because at heart Ghost didn't want to think the worst of others. He'd met pleanty of damn good people in his life, cats he would kill and die for, but he was far choosier with who he let close these days and that probably wouldn't change any time soon.

The towering brute would stepforward to join the rest of the rogues as things began to kick off. Ghost and the rest of the cats here had been anticipating Windclans return, but in truth he hadn't yet decided what he was going to do. After escaping from the Coalition with Nineteen he'd wanted them to keep to themselves and just enjoy what they had left of their lives, but his brother just couldn't shake that need for a purpose. Ghost had been willing to tolerate joining the rogues for him, but Windclan?

The grey and white tom had done his homework of course, tracking the patrol back to the moors after they'd shown up the first time. A quick scouting mission to see just what they were dealing with. Some of the rogues had the impression that the Windclanners needed them, that they were weak and in need of protecting- that simply wasn't true. Their land was large and predator-free, the prey stillrunning and the cats there well fed and in numbers to rival the rogues. Aside from their numbers, there was nothing Windclan would gain from the rogues joining them.

And so for Ghost, whose loyalty at this point was only to Nineteen, it didn't really matter how this all ended. Either way he'd still be subject to following the orders of another cat in a clan he hadn't wanted to be a part of in the first place, the only difference between the two was that one territory was infested with mutts while the other wasn't, but would the p[rospect of easy hunting and safe passage be enough for the rogues to swap one unhinged leader for an entirely new one.
​

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rogue - male - 25 months - single - a very tall, muscular tabby with dark gray fur and white markings. heavily scarred with dark amber eyes

 

[WEASELCLAW]

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮​

Weaselclaw strides behind Sootstar and Duskfire, head bowed and ears flat against his skull. He wishes he could mimic her confidence -- though a fraction of her bodyguards' height, she walks with her chin high, her tail lifted, and her emerald eyes gleaming with premature triumph.

He leans down to whisper to @ASPENPAW. "This will be a good experience for you. Keep your head high and stay quiet. Do not act out of line. Follow orders, always." His mouth is set in a grim line. Like Sootstar, he feels the pinpricks of their eyes raking through their pelts like claws.

The one-eyed tom shows his scarred face first, and although Weaselclaw can tell he's listening to Sootstar's rally, he does not emote and he does not speak. Weaselclaw reminds himself that this tom is not in charge, that he must be waiting for the leader to reveal themselves. Two others seem surprised at Sootstar's stature, and Weaselclaw himself thinks, As though StarClan cares how tall a cat is! He rolls his eyes, forgetting these cats are godless entirely.

One of those strange-looking she-cats pads from the shadows next, speaking strangely, formally. Weaselclaw doesn't understand what she says, and he doesn't reply -- it's not his place. He flicks his tail in response to her rambling, impatience hot in his blue eyes. How long until their leader shows his sorry face?

Not long at all. That grizzled brown tom shoulders his way to the front of the stragglers, and his insults are harsh and immediate. More comments about Sootstar's height, which only cause Weaselclaw to snort to himself. But his final words cause his neck fur to bristle. "I'm going to give you a moment to gather your dignity and leave before I kill you myself."

"I'd like to see you try," he snarls, losing his guard-like stance and unsheathing his claws. He does not break the line, knows better, but he does not want this flea-ridden dirtbag to think he could toss insults at his mate and leader. "We've come to you with a generous offer, but don't think we won't finish the job the coyotes started."

Weaselclaw attempts to force his fur to lie flat, but rage simmers in his belly and chest now, hot enough to boil his guts. He'll die fighting these plague-ridden crowfood cats if he has to.

- ,,​

​

 

[SLATESNARL]

If Slate had it his way, he wouldn't even be here. He would be in his home city, back in the colony where he was born. Then again, was being chased out such a bad thing? How different would things have been had he been allowed to stay behind?

Now was no time to dwell on the past, however. Slate felt backed into a corner due to the coyote invasion, grouped together with these ragtag cats of varying shapes and sizes and personalities. He was a solitary creature, one who didn't need a group to protect him... But, then again, what if the rogues did successfully launch a coup against WindClan? They would lay claim to an abundant territory free of the stench and noise of nearby two-leggeds. If swearing false loyalty to the WindClan leader meant that the rogues would have a chance at overthrowing her, then it was worth the risk. If all else failed, he could slip away amidst the chaos and run off somewhere else. After all, what did he have to lose?

Slate notices a patrol of unfamiliar cats moving in on the area and does not say or make any movement until the nature of their presence is clear. It is not until the petite she-cat climbs atop a stump and starts spewing promises of plentiful prey and tended wounds that Slate confirms that this was the cat that the rogues had been anticipating. That was WindClan's leader? He could have sworn that was a kit upon first glance. No wonder she felt that she needed the backup of a rogue army in order to feel powerful.

The black tom had been entertaining the idea of weaseling his way into the ranks of a clan and scheming internal sabotage, truthfully, but Sootstar's haughty and holier-than-thou attitude only turned him off from the idea. If Slate was adamant about anything in life, it was that no one had true control over him. No one would take advantage of him ever again. This obnoxious she-cat could stick her spiel where the sun doesn't shine.

Truthfully, he didn't particularly like Gin, either. Slate was only hanging around because the rogues were safer in numbers. Why did they need a leader, first of all, and why had Gin appointed himself? Because he was old as hell? Give him a break.

"We've come to you with a generous offer, but don't think we won't finish the job the coyotes started."

Amber eyes lock onto the brown tabby tom, sizing him up. He's a skinny fellow, with legs so skinny that Slate could nearly visualize wrapping his own jaws around them and snapping them like twigs. Hm, Slate wondered if this cat was just all bark and no bite. Maybe he'd find out today. "Didn't your clan seek us out? Careful about making threats towards the rogues that you're so desperate to recruit." The rogue snorts in Weaselclaw's direction. It was an empty threat, Slate reckoned. These rogues were too valuable to Sootstar for them to be slaughtered like pigs.​

 

[SOOTSTAR]

One speaks in poetry, with grace rarely heard especially from a rogue. Sootstar places her gaze upon her, "Because I need cats like you. You bunch know what you are, beastly and ferocious, I want the power you cats hold. That is what I will gain." And just have kits? Wasn't that easy when the queens of WindClan have thus far been weak, coming from suspicious backgrounds or families, who knew if they children they nursed would actually remain loyal to her. But these dogs? Soot could make them loyal. "WindClan hasn't had much for luck with romance..." Is how she responds to that inquiry, almost in a humorous way.

Then their leader, Gin he calls himself... She raises a brow at his words, unimpressed. He declines her invitation to join, none of the rogues seem to make much for moves after he makes the declaration. Then he tells her to leave with her clan or be killed. Sootstar smirks and leaps down from her stump and slithers right up to slither, foolishly reckless many could argue. She looks up at him, meets him in his eyes.

"Then I'm no longer asking... your rogues will join me. So lets see what type of fight you put up, kill me if you can!" And without a second thought, her claws unsheathe, and she aims to cut Gin's flesh anywhere she can hit. ​

---

Spoiler: TAGS ★ 10/19

( primary character / "speech" / ic opinions )​

╰ ★ ჻ 001 GENERAL INFORMATION ,
· SOOTSTAR, female — she / her
╰ ‣ 32 moons . pisces. ages on the first
╰ ‣ windclan leader . marsh-born . believes in starclan
╰ ‣ former soldier of the marsh group

╰ ★ ჻ 002 VISUALS & AESTHETICS ,
· DOMESTIC FELINE, smells like heather and wet dirt , status — 100%
╰ ‣ blue smoke . scarred chest, difficult to see through fur . green eyes

╰ ★ ჻ 003 MENTALITY & MANNERISMS ,
· ESTJ-A ❝ EXECTUTIVE ❞ , Slytherin, Lawful Evil
╰ ‣ Cunning, brash, fierce, confident, self-reliant, envious & selfish
╰ ‣ finds great difficulty in relating to others . can be cruel, usually shows mercy to those she can find sympathy with
╰ ‣ Appreciates titles such as "miss, m'am" etc

╰ ★ ჻ 004 INTERACTIONS & RELATIONSHIPS ,
· SOOT CLAW x PEBBLE BREEZE, sister to Pebblenose
╰ ‣ heterosexual. romantically interested in Weaselclaw
╰ ‣ mother to windpaw & sootpaw
╰ ‣ mentor to sootpaw & coyotepaw
╰ ‣ average fighter . skilled hunter .
╰ ‣ will start fights . unlikely to flee .
╰ ‣ attack in underline . penned by user @ava.

 

[ODETTE]

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---

Odette is deigned worthy of a response, and my my, what a response it is. It splits her maw wide with interest, because while Sootstar responds to her, the leader does not answer everything. No, she keeps some of her cards close to her chest. There's no mention of why this power, this force, is necessary for the leader so soon, and that makes Windclan and its forces all the more curious of a show to join in. Its unnusual to her, to consider being an actor instead of a director, but perhaps that is all the more of a testament to how much Sootstar has intrigued her.

She goes silent when Gin arrives, going from siren song to a snake's charm, watching through half lidded eyes as he voices his answer. 'He really does believe himself the allmighty, the blood forged and iron clad. So does she.' As the battle makes its move to begin, the opening notes of a tango coming from a discontented symphony, Odette makes no move to shield, block, or intercept the blow heading Gin's way. She is simply content to watch. He is no leader to her, and never was in the first place. All he had been was an employer, and protecting him in the light instead of from the shadows, putting her life on the line outside of a chessboard of her own design?

Well that's just not in her contract. ​

---

---

 

[Nathanos]

HELLO, MY NAME IS MR FEAR​

---

Like Nathanos, other rogues seem uncertain. Some have made a decision already, but most still look upon the offer with suspicion. Gin's words leave no room for negotiation, for choice. No, the rogue leader had made himself clear, and now it seemed one of the WindClan toms was all too eager to meet the threat with a challenge of his own. As tension electrifies the surrounding atmosphere, Nathanos remains calm, wintry like the bitter bite of leaf-bare, and patient as an ancient stone.

A part of him harbors distaste for how quick Gin is to dismiss the WindClanners. The rogues themselves had already agreed that, at the very least, they'd like to worm their way into WindClan's ranks for a coup. Gin had never appeared thrilled by the suggestion, but here and now, he so blatantly asserted himself with no regard for what his group wanted, or needed.

Sootstar makes her response. All claws and fangs, she attacks, lashes at the rogue leader with blazing eyes. A soldier whom was certain in his loyalty would have interfered, would have protected his leader. In such a scenario, the two patrols would undoubtedly break out into gruesome warfare. But... Nathanos doesn't move. Doesn't bristle his fur or unsheathe his claws. No, he watches, observes with one frigid eye, and with an expression that seemed so very callous.

Gin appeared to have no concern for the lives of his subjects, so why should Gin's subjects have any concern for his? If Sootstar proved herself the stronger, then so be it. Sootstar wanted power, and that was what she would gain if Gin could not defend his right as their leader. It seemed that many in the group were not quick to accept the rogue leader's decision, and now they stood upon the precipice of fate itself.​

 

[Gin]

"You're threats are as empty as your head, moorland moron." He echoes Slate's displeasure at the threat, that a refusal was met with such childish complaints. If they truly desired their strength and numbers they would be easy to take over in the next coming moon. The second these idiots left they would formulate a plan to dispose of them proper.

He expects they will leave disappointed and without understanding they have opened the door to future conquest. What he does not expect is this bold attack directly against him without a hint of hesitation. He leans back sharply, body arching away from the claws but a moment too slow to remove him from her reach entirely-he feelts them score his face and drag down his muzzle, feels a single claw hook and tear at his nose as he rips himself away from her.
The immediate bloodspill sends his own boiling inside him in righteous fury, he shows his teeth and in a rare display of contempt lunges back with violent intent. Gin rarely bothered fighting his own battles in the past, there was always someone else he could push into the fray in his stead and spare him the tedium of dealing with conflict but he is more than eager to stake his claim now in this feet.

Teeth score past pale gray fur, the force of his foreward rush tipping her back just enough to expose the throat that he swiftly takes of advantage of with a well-placed bite. His jaws stretch around the sudden influx of fur and flesh and adjusts to dig his teeth in; rewarding him in an instant surge of copper taste filling his mouth and spilling forth from both clamped jaws and onto his own white chin and chest. The WindClan queen stiffens, goes limp, he drops her unceremoniously onto the ground and inwardly chuckles at how short a drop it must have been but his green gaze hones in on the WindClanner's still standing there; obviously stupefied by their leader's foolishness as well.
A single paw raises to step upon the moorland she-cat's ashen form, "You will leave now with less cats than you even came with, let alone any additional to your numbers."

Ooc: This powerplay made with permission!
​

 

[speckleclaw.]

Sam pointedly avoided politics. The nuances and the jargon of what authority figures barked back and forth soared right over his ears, leaving nothing but his own confusion in its wake. All he knew in this situation was that he was getting real sick of coyotes biting his ass and rotten trash as the only meal for the day. That was partially the reason he awaited the clan cat's returns, not only to see what would happen but to see if the offer was legitimate. He held no loyalty to Gin. No loyalty to anyone, in fact. He was his own cat, chained to his own needs. And his needs right now said that if someone promised rabbit dinners and free healing, then he'd be a fool to refuse it for the sake of pride. He had done a lot worse to keep himself from starving. Kissing up to a clan would be the least offending item on that list, considering it was no different than hanging around the trailer park gang. If anything went south, who would stop him from simply turning around and leaving? Of course, he would never admit that aloud.

He remained silent as other cats gave long-winded spiels, debating over... well, he wasn't entirely sure. His thoughts strayed as Odette spoke, only focusing on her appearance over anything else. By the time he returned his attention to everything else, tensions started to rise. His own hackles bristled on instinct, white paws backing himself away from the imminent fight. He exhaled sharply through his nose, releasing a breath he didn't want to hold. His thoughts unknowingly echoed the sentiments of everyone else — Gin was a shitty leader to deny his followers any chance of survival. Any idiot could see that death waited with outstretched claws for those who stayed behind, while this Sootstar described the moorlands as a practical paradise. He might've been desperate enough to be gullible, but Sam only flinched as the smaller molly lashed out at Gin, receiving a clawful of his nose in the process. The scent of blood filled the air; the bulkier rogue pounced on her, but he couldn't see much else over the crowd of cats. And in the next moment, it was over, with Sootstar dead on the ground. Little emotion crossed his features at the sight, though an odd sense of shock gripped his chest. Uncertainty in his eyes, Sam glanced between his fellow loners, anticipating an all-out war to break any moment. He hoped it didn't. The barely-closed wound on his hip still ached something awful.​

 

[CRIMSONVEIL]

She comes, herself, with her lackeys in tow. Sangria’s ear flicks in slight nervousness and indecisiveness, she knows what shes here to do.she calls herself the bringer of dawn and Sangria can’t help as a smile cracks her stoic expression. It’s silly, the way she calls herself that, for she may have strength in numbers but- well, the nine lives thing truly had to be a hoax. Shes speaking more but Sangria doesn’t listen as she mulls the offer over. The little leaders plaything, it seems, talks in a snarl and Sangria had realized that its better to keep your mouth shut than let it run and get you killed.

Unfortunately, the soot furred leader of almighty Windclan did exactly that. She lay dead at her fathers paws in an instant. Her paws take a few steps forwards, instinctively, to help because Stars he just struck down the Windclan leader (oh my god the nine lives was a hoax he just ruined everything) and he’s gonna start a fight and more rogues will die than live because Windclan has them outnumbered-

Then it hits her. Her father doesn’t care. All her life seeking approval was for nothing, he was selfish. He was selfish and he would spill blood if it meant he was in control. But… He was her father. She was all she had left besides Redrum and Whisky. Her heart aches with the conflicting emotions, eyes flicking back and forth between the body and the Windclanners and-

“I’ll go.” a meek voice as she shrinks away. She does not want her fathers stare on her. He will not approve just like he hasn’t in every other aspect of her life. She doesn’t have friends here, but its all shes known, and she’ll be stepping away but instead of the heavy grief one would feel, she feels light and giddy. She’ll leave this damned place. She’ll be able to restart, though with the habits so deeply ingrained in her theres a voice of doubt that screams.

Anythings better than this personal hellhole. She missed her mom. Even if Soot was dead surely she had a second in command.

 

[Umberfang]

Whiskey — We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time
Windclan had come; and it was uncertain if it was a good or bad thing. This Sootstar was rather- aggressive and demanding for someone so small and his father, Gin, moved over to her with a quickness. Just as she stood, that dark smokey cat laid limp on the ground like every other cat he'd ever seen at the paws of his father. Like his mother before her, like many nameless cats that dared speak up against him. Whiskey watched with a blank expression across his face though then a meek voice from nearby made chocolate colored ears perk up; Sangria.

She was leaving? She couldn't leave! What about Redrum? Their family? What about him? The tortie cat stood up onto his paws and a confused look crossed his face for a moment at his sister; his best friend. She was just going to go willingly? Their leader was dead! Gin killed her! Who would take over after her? More of those brain-dead Windclanners?

Yet he found himself trailing after his sister, a paw waving to slow her down for a moment, before he lifted his head defiantly, "If Sangria goes, then I'll go too," He stated firmly with a lash of a bushy chocolate tail. He would never leave his sister bebhind, and he searched the group for his other sibling, Redrum. Surely they would come too? "speech"

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[WEASELCLAW]

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮​

Weaselclaw's shoulders remain tense as some smoke-pelted rogue responds to his threat: "Didn't your Clan seek us out? Careful about making threads towards the rogues that you're so desperate to recruit." He prepares to spit something else, something about how WindClan doesn't need these mange-pelted fools, but Sootstar begins to speak instead, in answer to the poetic rogue and to Gin.

She's unimpressed with him, with his gall and his threats. He's proud of her, but his fur begins to rise as she stalks toward the rogue tomcat and slashes at his face. Crimson erupts from the white blaze on his nose, scatters into sanguine droplets across the earth. He's quick to retaliate, and the battle is over before Weaselclaw can launch himself across the field.

Gin pins Sootstar to the earth and bites viciously at her delicate throat. He watches with eyes stretched wide across his face, horror writ across every feature. "No! You foxhearted idiot!" For the second time in his life, he watches the she-cat he loves convulse, small and helpless in the jaws of death. For the second time, he is helpless as she goes to meet StarClan, left behind to face the danger that had taken her from him.

He unsheathes his claws; there is no forethought in his blue eyes as he yowls for Gin's blood. "I'll make you wish the coyotes had gotten to you first!" He prepares to launch himself at Gin, but a Clanmate's body propels itself stiffly in front of him before he can.

// if you want it can be your WindClanner; if not we can just say it's an NPC <3

- ,,​

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[Jasperglare]

Jasper watched Gin challenge Sootstar with anticipation. He had to know. Were they really blessed by the stars? Gin could squish her easily. All Jasper had to do was wait.

And he didn't have to wait long for Gin to bite into her either. He paused, for a moment, watching the Windclan cats. He watched Weaselclaw squirm, then his gaze drifted back to Sootstar.

Ever the tactful tom, he practically skittered over to her body and placed an ear by her nose. No, she wasn't breathing. She was dead as shit. Now was the moment. So.

He just sat there, green gaze boring into her, unblinking, as he awaited her to possibly return. Insensitive? Probably. Weird? Absolutely.


Spiderlily thought so, at least. She had been watching until her gaze snapped to Jasper when he started skittering.

"What are you doing?" She hissed.

"I'm WAITING."

"For?"

"I WANT TO SEE IF THE RUMOR IS TRUE."

Spiderlily sighed. Why was this man so obnoxious. Why did she get stuck with him. Why was fate so cruel.
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[Nathanos]

HELLO, MY NAME IS MR FEAR​

---

That... had happened fast. A blink of an eye, but Gin had seized an advantage in the flash of a single moment, and now Sootstar laid dead at his feet. Nathanos' expression is unchanged, as callous as it had been before, even as his one fiery eye lingers upon the blue smoke's lifeless frame. Well, that settles that. Weaselclaw seems prepared for war, but WindClan should have thought of this outcome before they had arrived. There had never been a guarantee of their safety, or that of their leader's. He does find it peculiar when another WindClanner holds the raging tom back, though. It seemed that Nathanos was not the only one who had no desire for further bloodshed, though just like Weaselclaw, he would fight for his life if he had to.

A few of the rogues speak up, announcing that they would be joining WindClan. Nathanos only stares at them with a molten eye of magma. Did they really think WindClan would accept them into their ranks, after Gin had killed their leader? Such nonsense. And now that they had spoken up, Gin would likely not have them back. They would be abandoned by both sides of this unfortunate gathering. Well, as much as the towering brute might pity them, he would not speak up for them on their behalf. They had made their choice, and Nathanos could hardly blame them for apparent desperation. He's not too fond of the idea of going back to that shed to starve or get eaten by the coyotes himself.

Jasper's actions are as odd as ever, but they do draw Nathanos' attention back to the still body of Sootstar. He was waiting to see if the rumors were true. What rumors?

And then it all floods back to him, about the spirits in the night sky, and the many lives of those who lorded over the clans. More nonsense. The huge chocolate tabby snorts, though he says nothing. He would await Gin's reaction and then they could all go back home, unhappier than ever before.​

 

[SOOTSTAR]

//tw for wound and blood descriptions

It happened so fast, she had been so confident she could take Gin. Perhaps she should've felt more scared than she had. Ivory spikes pierce her throat, crushing her windpipe, the force is so strong she cannot even manage a gasp. The sense of touch escapes her paws first, then in seconds it traveled up her body. Against her control her vision turned to black.

There is no twinkle of stars in the night sky behind her skull.
It feels like she had sat in limbo for an eternity, yet back in reality it was only a couple of minutes. She wakes hearing the hisses and roars of her clan, the murmurs of rogues, loudest of all to her was her mate, Weaselclaw. His fury only flames her own, and when she realizes that heavy force against her body was from the rogue king... standing on her, the queen of the moors! She loses it.

Every ounce of strength goes into a kick she creates with her hind legs. Sharp and unforgiving claws pierce into the belly of the large tom-cat hovering over her, and after the full motion of her kick his belly tears. She feels his flesh rip open against her claws, and soon enough she feels his warm, sticky blood pool onto her body. Even Sootstar is taken aback by the gruesome wound, for once Gin's grip lessens she squirms out from under him and stands.

In turn, Gin collapses, the blood still seeping from the large gash in his stomach. The coppery stench is foul, the leader feels nauseous and for a moment she completely forgets where she is and the cats around her. It was just her and Gin, the light in his eyes slowly fading away. Despite the healing thanks to her life, she feels the pain in her neck where the giant cats' teeth once sat.

...I showed him. Is all her inner voice can muster before she dizzily turns around, facing the rogues once more, many who have already seemed to make up their minds, even before she rose from the dead. They wanted to be WindClan, they wanted the strength she could promise them... and she wanted they strength them could promise her. Once they left this forest, Sootstar was certain WindClan would be the strongest clan in the land.

As Gin draws one of his last breaths she lays claim over his band of rogues, "I am Sootstar, leader of WindClan, your new queen!" ​

---

Spoiler: TAGS ★ 10/19

( primary character / "speech" / ic opinions )​

╰ ★ ჻ 001 GENERAL INFORMATION ,
· SOOTSTAR, female — she / her
╰ ‣ 32 moons . pisces. ages on the first
╰ ‣ windclan leader . marsh-born . believes in starclan
╰ ‣ former soldier of the marsh group

╰ ★ ჻ 002 VISUALS & AESTHETICS ,
· DOMESTIC FELINE, smells like heather and wet dirt , status — 100%
╰ ‣ blue smoke . scarred chest, difficult to see through fur . green eyes

╰ ★ ჻ 003 MENTALITY & MANNERISMS ,
· ESTJ-A ❝ EXECTUTIVE ❞ , Slytherin, Lawful Evil
╰ ‣ Cunning, brash, fierce, confident, self-reliant, envious & selfish
╰ ‣ finds great difficulty in relating to others . can be cruel, usually shows mercy to those she can find sympathy with
╰ ‣ Appreciates titles such as "miss, m'am" etc

╰ ★ ჻ 004 INTERACTIONS & RELATIONSHIPS ,
· SOOT CLAW x PEBBLE BREEZE, sister to Pebblenose
╰ ‣ heterosexual. romantically interested in Weaselclaw
╰ ‣ mother to windpaw & sootpaw
╰ ‣ mentor to sootpaw & coyotepaw
╰ ‣ average fighter . skilled hunter .
╰ ‣ will start fights . unlikely to flee .
╰ ‣ attack in underline . penned by user @ava.

 

[GHOSTWAIL]

Resurrection. There is blood upon the ground where the moorland queen had fallen, crimson, fatal, meaningless, as she rises again - a phoenix from the ashes, from the soot. If she had wondered briefly why this tiny scrap of fur could be called dawn-bringer a moment ago, the thought was now only a fading memory. The phantom rogue slips from Nathanos' side, her burning eyes now trained solely as the prophesied queen. A champion of death, a ruler worth her fealty, Sootstar towers over Gin's limp, useless body despite her diminutive stature. She wielded her own death like a cudgel and the death of their leader like a whip.

Banshee hums at the thought. Yes, this would do nicely. She would do nicely. Long live the queen.​

- you call for peace when it suits you​