border NOMAD [ riverclan patrol ]

( ) sunlight filters through delicate green leaves that cast dappled patterns across the backs of the patrol as they move carefully towards the border. the air is filled with the scent of damp earth and the sweet smell of heather that drifts towards riverclan territory on a small breeze. slender paws pad across ground carpeted by moss and ferns, paw-pads sliding into the divots in the trail formed by hundreds of pawsteps before. the riverbank, draped in the cascading shadows of willow trees, creates a welcoming scene, waters tranquil as they rush past, headed towards the deep gorge. willowroot guides her patrol away from the stoney death trap, taking care to pad beside echopaw. this is one of her apprentice's first forays towards the windclan border - she cannot, will not, let anything bad happen.

beyond the river, the open moor stretches endlessly under a vast, late afternoon sky, its heathers and tall grasses softly waving in the wind. the haunting call of a distant bird of prey tenses willowroot's muscles, but she relaxes them as she watches the creature disappear into the horizon. "echopaw," she'll address her apprentice, green eyes fixed on the blind girl's steps. "can you tell me what makes windclan so well adapted to live on the moors?" as she awaits the smoke's answer, she'll allow her gaze to flit to the surrounding nature.

as the patrol begins their border marking, a sour scent reaches willowroot's nose, and she freezes, tail kinking up over her back. "badger," she'll call to her patrol, finding the verdant hued eyes of carawaysong, the blue and black pelts of blackwater and ravendusk. whirling her head around, the feline notes the rustling of the undergrowth a few fox lengths down the border, on riverclan's side. her heart pounds briefly, wondering how she will manage to protect echopaw and lead her patrol into battle should it come to it. "into the water, quickly," she instructs, guiding her apprentice towards the riffling stream. the water here is not super deep, reaching willowroot's shoulders, but she is tall. on shorter cat, it'd coat their back, and she keeps this in mind, instructing echopaw to step up on a rock to hold her higher out of the stream. the badger appears, a lumbering thing, striped nose scarred as if it's seen battle before.

"they don't like water, so stay in the river until it goes, okay?" finding the gazes of her patrol, the former lead warrior's gaze hardens. "should windclan come, be courteous and calm." stars, she cannot deal with a border skirmish and a badger in the same day. her patrol are level headed, or so she prays.


  • // "#91A26C" feel free to reply before @Blackwater, @RAVENDUSK, @carawaysong, @Echopaw~
    a badger lurks about, and the patrol avoids it by remaining in the river
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  • WILLOWROOT ☾ SHE / THEY, WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN. 46 MOONS. MENTORING ECHOPAW. PENNED BY LAVS
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    a long-haired black smoke oriental with sage-green eyes. smoky long fur coats the length of willowroot's lithe body, cut through with dark ghost stripes. friendly sage green eyes that narrow in an almond shape, and her muzzle and limbs are thin and long due to her oriental heritage.
 


Out of all clans to patrol windclan surely had earned thier way of being the most unpleasant clan to visit. Ruled by a cruel tyrant, forsaken by the stars themselves who had voiced their opinion through lightning. Despite all of that, equal worthy of the deserved title of being the most disliked clan out of the five, it was none of these reason to why Ravendusk out of all cats had grown a such immutable contempt for them all. And the reason was nothing but justified. It was all for one simple act, a decision that had condemned them to be the sole clan to never deserve redemption no matter how much they plead and begged for it.

Kitnappning. Sinking so low to kidnap two innocent kits from thier homes and bring them to that star-forsaken moors, taken and stolen from thier very mother, a family who surely had loved them dearly. Unforgivable. They deserved nothing less but to burn up in flames for such a horrible act. It was a shame, a true shame that the moors had not got burned down along with that despicable clan back, to burn alive and die a such painful fitting death for tyrans like them who deserved to burn for thier sins. Starclan had done a poorly job of finishing that clan of.

In the dept of thier bitterhearted thoughts, Willowroot's alarming words had the power to pull them back out to face the reality at hand. A badger were lurking close by which meant danger had now become a potential threat upon this peaceful patrol. Ravendusk attention shifted to the source of the threat, before his attention shifted to the river that was the closest way to escape from the unprovoked threat.

Ravendusk made thier quick escape there but before leaping into the water he stopt at the shore to cast a glance back to see who had made it there. Willowroot was already in the river alongside Echopaw who was the top priority to protect in a situation like this. Carawaysong and Blackwater however...especially Blackwater was worthy if not all of thier attention right now knowing a certain kit back at home had a strong attachment to them so he had to make sure they made it back to them all safe and sound.

It was only after he was sure the other two had made it into the water safely that Ravendusk would join them as well into the freezing unwelcomed water, but only after Blackwater had first...

 
RiverClan. Buckfire, strangely, feels a sense of excitement brim within when he spots a group standing up to their bellies in the waters, presumably fishing or doing whatever RiverClanners did. It's interesting to get a glimpse into the daily lives of clans aside from WindClan. Border patrols were a lot more engaging that way ( and less tedious ).

The brown tabby, before jumping right into marking along WindClan's side, calls out to the river-dwellers, "How's the water?" Buckfire offers a jovial grin, perhaps unlike his clanmates who often tended to be neutral and aloof toward any cats other than their own. He was a wanderer at heart, always game for meeting new faces; it was not like him to be unfriendly toward strangers.

His molten gaze traveled from feline to feline, lingering on the rather eye-catching smoke molly in particular for a moment. Their pelts were so shiny, as if the sun itself had lowered down and kissed them. Buckfire's attention was soon grabbed by a pungent odor that drifted on the breeze. Yeesh, they stink. Maybe they're trying to wash off. He scrunched his nose and turned toward his patrolmates with knitted brows, as if to communicate do y'all smell that, too?

  • @SCORCHSTORM mentor tag
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    a new warrior of windclan, buckfire is thirty-two moons. he is shadowing scorchstorm. he is a ruggedly handsome tom, sporting lean muscle and a slightly taller-than-average stature. there is a nick in his left ear as well as a small scratch on his right lip. he smells of cotton grass and gorse. 
 
What should have been a routine border patrol was suddenly thrown to the wind via the unexpected warning call of Willowroot. "Badger, into the water- quickly." The instruction was clear and taught with urgency, the kind that provoked immediate muscular tension and the tightening of lungs as adrenaline began to pulsate through every inch of one's once weary body. With a swift glance at his clanmates to ensure they were all headed in the same direction, he would soon follow suit at a pace that was admittedly a bit too leisurely given the dire situation. His body ached this day, however he would never be one to dismiss himself to the warm embrace of a nest if clan duties called to him, and call to him they did.

The water sloshed and bubbled as the patrol waded into its briny depths which provided a blanket of safety against the lumbering beast that lingered loudly nearby, the way it showed little regard for things such as subtly or caution a testament to it's strength in itself, for a predator does not need to slink warily along in the protection of shadow. It was not often Blackwater would see such creatures out in the wild, typically staying closer to the river's edge where it was much more common for otters and foxes to lurk, but it was no surprise that he knew of them. He couldn't imagine living in a place that harbored such an abundance of them, the size of it alone enough to make the fur along his spine prickle uncomfortably.

His nose wrinkled as the acrid tang of whatever scent it carried upon its fur washed over his nose and filled his scent glands to an overwhelming degree, it almost made him gag from the sheer intensity. Unpleasant was too docile a word to describe it, and it was clear his clanmates fared no better as their expressions plastered similar reactions the closer it came. However, the scent was suddenly broken down by the accompaniment of another much more mild one, though it was still not one of complete familiarity.

"How's the water?"

The voice of a rather zealous WindClan cat echoed across the landscape, Blackwater's deep aquamarine gaze piercing as his orbs settled with that stoic intensity onto russet patterned pelt. He was shocked that he seemed so aloof to the clear threat still meandering so closely nearby, to be unable to detect such permeating rot was almost unfathomable, but to be in such good spirits, addressing those across from you with almost zero perception to your surroundings- it was foolish.

"...Feels much better than the raking of claws against flesh, to be sure." A warning in the form of a rather casual response, Blackwater's voice carrying little to no emotion as was typical of him. However, his eyes had grown dark and narrow, the concern in them clearer than the purest of streams.
 ° . ☠︎︎ . ° 
  • ooc:
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    BLACKWATER — HE/HIM ・ 25 MOONS ・ RIVERCLAN WARRIOR ・ PENNED BY SLOANE
    SH blue tabby/blue chimera with low white. born to riverclan and eternally devoted to their ranks, he often prioritizes the wellbeing of others over himself and is prone to doing much more than he is physically capable of as a means to prove not only to others that he is deserving of his position, but also to himself. although not something he displays externally, he is imbittered and melancholic regarding his physical ailments and incapability. despite this repressed mental unrest, he is quite laid-back and gentle towards those around him, often content to converse and connect to any who may desire it- although admittedly, he is not the most observant or quick-witted when it comes to recognizing social cues.
 
꙳•❅* The RiverClan border is one visited often by Frostwind. His mother seems to avoid it as though it’s the very source of yellowcough, but there’s a tunnel leading straight to the bridge, so why shouldn’t they utilize it? The tom shakes dirt from his spiked pelt as he approaches the border, already spotting the forms of Scorchstorm and Buckfire not too far off. A slow, loping gait carries him over to them, where he can overlook the river and the land beyond.

A badger putters around nearby, but it’s across the river, so it’s not WindClan’s problem right now. If it crosses the water—which it won’t do—then he’ll likely be forced to fight it off, but until then the tom is content to take note of its presence and move on, as he spots the RiverClanners lurking close by as well. The mousebrain his sister has been training seems friendly in the face of the river-dwellers, almost overly so. Frosty blue eyes narrow to slits, scrutinous of the other tom, but he lets it go after a moment. A roll of his eyes, and Buckfire’s existence is disregarded once again. Scorchstorm will keep him in line and loyal, hopefully.

His ears twitch at the sound of “raking of claws against flesh” and… what? Is the cat in the water threatening violence, already? A familiar mask, the shroud of haughtiness overtakes him, clawing its way up his throat and into a careful clearing of his throat. Icy eyes are directed solely to the fish-brain who’s spoken up, though he keeps the other RiverClanners in his periphery. "Ah, I hope I’m right to assume that you," a tight smile, expression otherwise slack and unimpressed—a gift from his mother, a likeness impossible to deny, "aren’t threatening us. You’ve got bigger problems." He jerks his chin to the badger that roams the shoreline, just in case the group had somehow failed to notice it. Knowing how waterlogged RiverClanners’ heads tend to be, it’s a possibility for sure.

  • ooc:
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  • FROSTWIND ❯❯ he/him, tunneler of windclan
    scruffy black and white tom with icy eyes. casual and friendly, yet ruthless in battle.
    son of scorchstreak and badgermoon ; brother to scorchstorm, luckypaw, rumblerain
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
    penned by foxlore
 

The small patrol they've taken gets even smaller when Buckfire breaks from the crowd. He doesn't go far, at least—Sedgepounce finds him at the murky clearing of the riverside, but does not make it fully past the curtain of tall grass to reach him before he freezes. "Badger," Sedgepounce hisses at Buck. He cants his body sidelong, guiding Bunnypaw with a shoulder to stay behind him. The wild heather and wheatgrass provide a protective wall to further obscure her.

The RiverClanners take their chances in the water, and for now the badger seems to pay them no mind. Its scarred nose snuffles at something on the marshy shore some fox-lengths away; a distance he's sure it could cross within one lazy eyeblink.

Then there's—the threatening, the arguing. Sedgepounce cannot help the annoyed sigh which bursts from him, already tired of the insatiable urge to make snarky comments that everyone seems to have. Frostwind crests over a nearby hill in defense of Buckfire, but his presence does little to help. They have bigger problems. All of them.

"Be quiet," Sedgepounce advises, tone low. His pelt briefly rankles with anxiety—he hopes Scorchstorm won't bark in defense of her brother, or her hatred of RiverClan, and ruin this attempt at peacekeeping. Her fiery pelt burns in his periphery. "Get down, Buck. If we're all still—and quiet—it'll pass us by." He thinks. He hopes. RiverClan may take the brunt of an attack, but for the life of him Sedgepounce can't remember if badgers know how to swim or not. His stomach twists at the realization. He should know—for Bunnypaw's sake at least. Why doesn't he know?

// apprentice tag @bunnypaw
 
-ˋˏ ༻✧༺ ˎˊ- something acrid disturbs the prairie sweet scent, carawaysong's nose wrinkles just as willowroot turns to alert them all. she hadn't been able to pinpoint the creature, not as effortlessly as her mother had. the thought has her ears twitching in annoyance as she follows her clanmates into the water, dipping her head below for just a moment as if that would cleanse her growing frustration.

by the time she resurfaces, the warrior hears blackwater's thinly veiled warning, a windclanner's stifled response. after willowroot's clear direction to be courteous. a pleasant smile pulls her lips, appeasing and apologetic, as her gaze shifts from the badger to the group of windclanners on land. if the fur along her spine weren't weighed down by water it may have prickled from unease. "a joke, i'm sure." a breezy hum escapes her throat, displaying a lightheartedness only betrayed by shifting eyes. she was sure what blackwater had said was far from that, but they had enough tension for a single patrol.

carawaysong silently hopes that frostwind will listen to the spotted warrior telling them all to stay quiet, that blackwater wouldn't double down on his poorly timed threat. she glances to willowroot, who is mostly concerned with echopaw, for reassurance. with any luck, the patrol lead would let them move along away from the windclanners.
  • OOC ↛
  • CARAWAYSONG SHE/HER, WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN, 14 ☾'s
    a tall and slender longhaired silver tabby with olive green eyes.
    willowroot x poppysplash / / currently mentoring none.
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ see battle info here
    penned by vayle@vayl3 on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

    " ALL THE STONES AND KINGS OF OLD ⚔︎
    WILL HEAR US SCREAMING AT THE COLD "