sensitive topics On Earth or below (WindClan)

[Badgermoon]

Well, wasn't this familiar? And yet somehow strikingly different. Badgermoon stalked alongside his Clanmates, his broad body held low to the ground, yellow eyes flashing in the waning light. The scent of RiverClan hung heavily around the encroaching party, feeling to him like nothing so much as swirling clouds of evil. Maybe that was a little too dramatic... then again, they were here for revenge: vengeance against something which had felt truly evil. And he did feel there was something truly evil about the rank stench of fish-flesh, never mind the attitudes and actions of those who ate them.

"Remember, we're striking hard and fast. This is to teach them a lesson: if you hurt any of our Clanmates, you will feel our wrath." He mrowed in a quiet voice to the small but robust party of cats with whom he prowled forward, ever closer to their target - and ever closer to the onset of combat. Several moons had passed since the last time he had found himself in a true battle, under circumstances rather like these. Some part of him wondered if there was something dishonourable about striking at night, but the rest of him could not forget that there was also surely nothing honorable about dragging a brave, loyal warrior across an enemy border and killing him in cold blood. We're doing the right thing. thought the bicolor tom, and with that - as if it had been a necessary key to unlock his most deeply buried, tightly controlled urges - he felt the first wild surge of adrenaline, powering his pawsteps onward. He swore his very blood felt hotter as a dark enthusiasm grew within him, hungrier and hungrier.

The time is now. This had not been his own personal idea or first choice as to what their retribution against RiverClan would look like, but now that the time was at hand he could think of nothing but his thirst. Of the blood, and the tearing, the ripping of flesh and fur; and the howling, the cries of shock, and even of the pain that was soon to come. Badgermoon glanced back at his Clanmates and said, simply, ravenously: "For Juniperfrost."

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OOC: Please limit the number of RiverClanners to equal the number of WindClanners! In other words, no more than 7 warriors and 4 apprentices. This post will be updated with a tally as folks post! And if you don't get a chance to participate in this thread, don't worry - there might be something else going on, too...


@Mintshade @Azaleapaw @LAMBCURL. @SCORCHSTREAK @WEASELCLAW @sparkpaw. @SNAKEPAW @TIGERFROST @SNAILPAW @SCARABWING

RIVERCLANNERS SO FAR:
Smokethroat
Willowroot
Lakemoon
Cindershade
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[WEASELCLAW]

Under the cover of darkness, with the remnants of a faded red-violent sunset diminishing behind them, Weaselclaw follows his deputy with quick and determined steps. White paws bounce featherlight off of the Twoleg Bridge and into RiverClan territory. He's not wary -- adrenaline burns beneath his rippling tabby fur.

As some of their warriors had speculated, RiverClan has set up camp near their territory. They are flanked by the gorge, swollen with water. No water divides Weaselclaw from the goal of his first strike, however.

Badgermoon tells them simply, "For Juniperfrost." Weaselclaw's gaze burns into the darkness, waiting for movement, watching for a white-flecked black pelt and a single flame-colored eye. "For Juniperfrost," he snarls, his tail thrashing behind his lithe body.

When the two toms begin to square off, Weaselclaw will taunt him, "Stealing prey, stealing our warrior's lives. I think giving your worthless right eye in return is only fair." The tabby's yowl will resound through the night -- a warcry, shrill and pulsing with bloodlust.

He wants to maim. He wants to avenge.

// looking for @Smokethroat​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[SMOKESTAR]

The stench of the moors lit him up inside everytime it passed over him, carried by the wind to assail his senses in its wretchedness. It was composure breaking really, set his fur prickling and hackles raised, the whites of his teeth craving to be stained old wine and glistening in the faint shine of twilight. In their camp, in their miserable little temporary camp, in the dead of night, they had come and he felt an almost agonizing thrill rumble in his chest; frantic heartbeat trilling in excitement. He didn't wish war, it would be too much of an ordeal and the risk of his clanmates lives was not something he took lightly.
But oh, if he could fight every day he would. If he could solve every problem with his teeth and claws he would do so without hesitation.
He wanted blood and tabby fur shredded at his feet, he wants the rush of adrenaline that came from flinging himself down on a cat he hated and rending the very flesh from their body with vicious blow after vicious blow; the only thing that would sate him was the crunch of bone beneath his canines, the gush of life filling his mouth as he ripped the bastards throat out. One of these days, one of these days he was going to shred him to pieces and deliver him to his queen plastered across a leaf as a warning. The yowls of the WindClanners moving in to attack sweep over him, his body reacts before his mind processes what is happening. Of course, of course they would retaliate; they can never simply lose graciously, it is always a childish tantrum to prove their superiority and he longed to knock them down.

He stalks forward, pulled from his nest and orange eye ablaze like a will-o-wisp in the night; a wayward spirit calling any fool who followed it to damnation.
The striped tom framed in the wires of the trees yowls out a challenge and he answers without hesitance, without repentance with a scream of fury of his own, "Come and TAKE IT THEN, RAT!" Smokethroat was already bending into a crouch upon catching sight of the other and the second he called out he was lunging from the tangle of old nesting and bracken laid around the perimeter to throw himself upon the other with claws sinking into whatever hold he could manage.

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[Ooc]
-Attacking @WEASELCLAW
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[TIGERFROST]

Tags and Information

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As the shroud of night fell, fire lit the hearts and minds of those who prowled beneath it's shadowy darkness. Tigerfrost strides alongside his clan-mates with his chin held high. Like his deputy, he believes that this is right, that this is justice. RiverClan would pay for what they have done. The fish-scent is overwhelming, and he curls his lip in disgust. The battle-cry is simple enough, it seems. A resounding demand for retribution.

"For Juniperfrost." He snarls, fanged maw flashing with rows of lethal incisors. Briefly, the Lead Warrior turns his head to peer upon his apprentice, @SNAILPAW . "Try and stay close to me, if you can." Tigerfrost demands coolly. After all, if Snailpaw decided to have one of their naps in the middle of the fight, he didn't want to risk some RiverClanner dragging them away for another gruesome killing. For now, Tigerfrost turns back to surge into RiverClan's temporary camp alongside the rest of his patrol, claws glinting meneacingly in the starlight.

[ open to attack. if opponent wishes to roll with dice in discord, please let me know. ]​

 

[SNAKEHISS]

❪ TAGS ❫ — The tension is thick and heavy in the air like summer humidity, almost suffocatingly so. The mental trauma stemming from Juniperfrost's sudden murder is treading on every WindClanner's mind right now, especially those currently prowling toward RiverClan territory. Snakepaw feels honored to have been chosen to attend this very important raid patrol; although his mentor was the one leading it, he supposes that Badgermoon could have told him to stay home if he really wanted to. So, the black and white tom gets some extra points in his book for not doing so.

Doubt buzzes around his brain like an incessant fly; he swats at it left and right, though it doesn't seem to go away. What if he makes a fool of himself? What if he got an injury that set his training back? In fact, what if he was killed just like Juniperfrost? RiverClan wouldn't kill an apprentice... would they?

No, overthinking is what got one killed. Snakepaw was doing a great service for WindClan and for Juniperfrost's memory. His parents were already proud, and he'd make Badgermoon and Sootstar proud too. Snakepaw would come out of this raid a reputable and celebrated apprentice. He was the best one here, was he not? Azaleapaw was a kittypet, Sparkpaw was the child of a traitor, and Snailpaw was... Snailpaw. This was his chance to prove himself once and for all!

Egotistical and prideful, the night-pelted apprentice grits his teeth and prowls forth, sharp emerald hues scanning the area for a suitable opponent. "Fight me, fish faces!" Snakepaw demands, giving a lash of his tail.

// open for 1 opponent, will be dice-rolling in discord for attack success, easy-medium difficulty, no major injury/kill​

 

[Azaleafrost]

Azaleapaw crept through Riverclan territory with a muted sense of adventure. This land was new to her, she had never seen willows before, or well....Most kinds of trees, actually. She had only ever seen oaks and pines. The ground was different here, it wasn't..... Moory. She didnt know how to describe it. It didnt matter though, because soon it would be soaked in blood. This was her first time in actual, real combat. Real danger. She didn't count that rogue as real combat. This was going to be against trained warriors, and she would be stupid to underestimate the river cats.

More importantly, this was the time to show her fellow Windclanners that she wasn't the pathetic scrap they thought she was. She was here to send blood splattering, to turn the river red. She knew she was getting ahead of herself, she was only an apprentice with still much to learn, but it's not like she could do anything about that right now. She had been chosen to go on this war party.

She will not squander it.

She poured into the Riverclan camp with the others and began searching for a target. Who would she attempt to kill tonight, or who would attempt to kill her tonight? Who would succeed?

If she did well, would Mintshade be proud of her? Would anyone be? Or had they simply brought her along as fodder, to use as a meatshield when someone couldn't handle their opponent?

She tried to tell herself that wouldn't happen, but it certainly felt like a possibility.

But the time for thoughts were over. The battle had begun, and she wasn't going to be caught slacking. With teeth bared and claws unsheathed, She leapt for the first cat she saw.
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[willowroot]

( ☾ )it is nothing but coincidence that the dark molly linger outside her makeshift den. the stars are half clouded tonight but something in her pulls, a desire to gaze into the void and discern anything. there is a haze in her eyes that is so often found there nowadays, one of faraway memories as she copes with the transition from mother to warrior again. perched beside the warriors den, tail tucked tight around slender paws, the lead warrior hums to themself, a quiet comfort in the blackness of the night. outside their temporary camp, an owl hoots, low and long, breaking the semi silence of the sleeping clan. tufted ears prick, swiveling as bracken crackles along the bank of the river. something is moving out there in the shade beyond, most likely a creature returning to whatever den or hollow it calls home. still, willowroot flexes their claws, on edge for reasons beyond her.

the scent of tall grass and feathers interrupts their uneasy lingering, and the femme snaps to attention as smokethroat growls. the tom stalks towards the entrance to camp just as a snarl rings from the shadows. “for juniperfrost.” immediately paws thunder against the earth as slender, wind toughened warriors burst into the temporary sanctuary. willowroot scrambles to her paws, anger flooding her chest for what feels like the tenth time this day. weaselclaw- pelt of thorns and thunder breaks first, screaming for smokethroat who crashes towards the challenge. muscles rippling under thick dark fur, willowroot leaps after him, charging towards the attacker at the head.

badgermoon is a hefty tom, bucolored fur gleaming in partial starlight, but the warrior barely notices anything about him, too focused on the anger pulsing in her paws. "invaders!" she cries, claws out as she crashes into the deputy. she attempts to use her skinnier body to stay low, aiming for the man's paws to knock him from his feet. claws score down his front flanks as she attempts this, teeth biting to reach his chest. "fucking cowardly wind cats, attacking at night like the rats you are!"
// attacking @Badgermoon rolling for attack in discord! p.s. if u saw me post on main no u didnt ​

( THE LIGHT YOU GAVE ME )

 

[Mintshade]

The dark molly loved a good fight, perhaps not as much as Weaselclaw did given he was already running in to find himself an opponent, but she enjoyed the excitement of it all the same and getting to kill a RiverClanner would bring her endless delight. The last time she killed a cat had been in the Great Battle, some tortie molly from the Pine Colony who thought herself a grand hero for throwing herself into Mintshade's claws; what a sad and pathetic little death, she'd hardly been much of a challenge in the end but that's what happened when you let kittypets out into the forest. Perhaps the river cats, once Marshlanders themselves, would be able to keep up with her better.
"Eh heh heh! Keep yourself alert, Azaleapaw and GET IN THERE!"
Bring her the head of something, anything, she'd even take a kit really if the other was feeling particularly malicious. Badgermoon had not set many guidelines for them so the spiky black she-cat moved along forward into the temporary camp to throw her paws on the little slapdash structures they had built up for themselves, proceeding to trash the place to the best of her abilities, even if it wasn't a lot a few holes here and there would be quite the pain to deal with for any cat left alive. If they were spared that much. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could find where they kept their medicine cat den stuff and give the entire stock of it a nice shredding. She had no idea what any of it did so stealing it didn't even cross her mind, Vulturemask hadn't complained about anything being low anyways to her knowledge.

---

[Ooc]
- Talking to @Azaleapaw
-Open to attack, currently breaking some temporary dens for the fun of it.
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[WEASELCLAW]

Smokethroat returns his taunt with an invitation: "Come and TAKE IT THEN, RAT!" Weaselclaw braces himself for the one-eyed warrior's onslaught, his full weight crashing onto the tabby and bowling him over, onto his flank. Smokethroat's claws find purchase in his shoulder area -- the flesh tears, and the scent of his blood perfumes the night.

The breath is knocked out of him -- he hadn't been expecting the brutality of the attack, and that's his own fault. He'd forgotten what it's like to face a worthy opponent. Weaselclaw's lungs burn, and both of his forelegs are pinned due to the angle he lays at. Weaselclaw can only attempt to use the full force of his body to eject Smokethroat. He will need several heartbeats to catch his breath before readying another attack, leaving him open to attack. Blood streams from his left shoulder wound.

// engaging @Smokethroat ​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[LAKEMOON]

✵ ღ ☾ IT TOOK ME BY SURPRISE - Lakemoon couldn’t say she had been in a true battle since she was still Azalea, springing at Onceler at the heel of Briar.
She is idle, comfortably pressed against her Lilybloom in the makeshift den.
The new leaf breeze blows the stale scent of the moors through the entrance, and eye lids are quick to open, she had barely gotten to her paws before the distantly familiar sounds of battle cries filled the air. Something crashes nearby, and Lakemoon bursts out of her den.
❝ Motherfucking moorland rats! ❞ She snarls in the direction of Mintshade as the other brought the little shelter her clan could build tumbling bit by bit, the woven twines splintering with a crack!
Before the silver warrior would let the ebony Windclanner come near where Lilybloom and her had been resting just heart beats before, Lakemoon darts forward in a flash of dusky blue towards the other, bowing her head forward she’d aim to ram into Mintshades softer part of her flank, hoping to bowl the other over and put a halt on her destruction.

// attacking @Mintshade by attempting to ram into her , open for only one other opponent.

❝ Speech. ❞

THE HATRED IN HER EYES​

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[SCORCHSTREAK]

Her mind, blissfully quiet beneath the promise of blood and bite. Her broad paws, hardly lagging behind the steps of her taller clanmates. Her raven-black pelt, streaking across the bridge and crossing over into enemy lands without a glance back. This horrible territory, crossed with rivers like scars upon the land, and one of WindClan’s most loathed resides here. She slows only when they approach the enemy’s camp, taking up a position behind the rest of the group—they will not be cut off, blocked in, surrounded on her watch.

"For Juniperfrost," she echoes Badgermoon’s words, but it is a hollow sentiment. That silver-furred loudmouth means nothing to her. He died for his clan, at least, but she did not know him in any meaningful way. She is only here for the hope of a slaughter. A WindClan success, redemption for their poorly executed raid on SkyClan.

Sharp eyes, twin sunspots in the darkness, glare across the camp—searching for a target. She understands that Badgermoon’s orders mean that she should be barreling forth like the brown-striped brute who charges straight for a random night-black cat, but she doesn’t exactly have the advantage of stature on her side. No, she will wait for a better target to come into view; an apprentice, perhaps, a pain that will be easy to execute and difficult to recover from.

She stalks the fringes of the battle, considers aiding Weaselclaw in his fight. He can handle himself, they think. So the calico continues their slinking, ears flicking this way and that to catch each noise around them. The moment a fish-smelling stranger approaches them, they will rush to strike first.


// open to any attacks; she will lunge as soon as she is approached! i’m not rolling for hits
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[ MONSTROUS WOMAN ]​

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[SMOKESTAR]

He sees nothing else, lone orange eye honed in on his opponent, his beloathed, his sworn enemy, the one cat who he craved the death of with ever fiber of his very being; whose end he would rejoice in only if it was at his own paws and not other-he wanted to rend him into pieces and spit on what was left.
He batters the tabby down, knocks him off his paws without much struggle; had he forgotten who his opponent was or was he slacking in his own training? Smokethroat didn't know, nor did he care and he leaned back to avoid the push of limbs straining to displace him, dancing back on light steps to avoid being thrown to the ground himself and when he swung his paw forward to swipe at the other's face he felt himself miss by a hair-fur cut slightly from the sharp claw but otherwise no flesh torn in his wild slash. The uneven footing of this area and the mess RiverClan had made of it in their attempts to make it hospitable had left him with difficult terrain to navigate. With neither blow on both their parts landing as they broke from they rolling tumble, Smokethroat braces himself and waits for the other to make a move, muscles tensed like coils to spring at any given moment.

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[Ooc]
- Attacking @WEASELCLAW
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[sparkspirit]

As the moment crashes down upon him, all of the words from before flood out his ears. The chaos of battle reigns, and Sparkpaw finds that there is no room within his chest for anything but his racing heart. Electric eyes flit about RiverClan's camp, trying to pick out any face, good or bad. But as fur begins to fly around them and blood mixes into their scents, he finds that when they are like this, there is little distinguishing them as RiverClanner or WindClanner. They are all just cats in the midst of war, and there would be something poetic about that if he knew what it was. Heart echoing in his ribs, in his lungs, but this time it's not fear– there's no identifying it, in truth. Excitement? Courage? Horror?

In the end of it, he does not lunge into battle. His mentor's conflict is his own for now. Instead, Sparkpaw presses his flank to Snakepaw. "Fight with me?" he asks, barely louder than the screeched insults and battle cry.

˗ˏˋ  †〚  OOC REFERENCE INFORMATION 〛

• ooc: buddying up with @SNAKEPAW ! willing to do rolls as well
• 
• sparkpaw, sparky. dmab male, he - him - his.
  ──── apprentice of windclan. loyal to windclan and his family.
  ──── 04 moons old. born on 12.15.22, and ages in real time.
  ──── echolight x elmbreeze, adopted by yewberry. brightfam.
• "speech"

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[WEASELCLAW]

Smokethroat is not dislodged, but the ebony warrior leaps back himself, steps feathery and nimble. Weaselclaw is quick to heave himself back to four paws, and the tabby jerks himself back as a black forepaw flies at his face. Had the hit landed, it could have been disastrous -- but it just barely swooshes the air before his eyes. The terrain is uneven, poorly filled-in gaps throwing unseen potholes in every fighter's movements.

Weaselclaw can see Smokethroat brace himself, and despite the stinging pain in his shoulder, the tabby moves quickly. He will attempt to dart to Smokethroat's right side and aim to swing his claws back towards the dark warrior's flank.

// attacking @Smokethroat ​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[LAMBCURL.]

He's eager to serve, truly, he is.

Both his clan, and the very stars they lived under. He believes himself to be here for little more than his eagerness alone– participant in the movement that is their wrath. To have such a personal view, no– to be part of it, so plainly, Lambcurl can only beam to do so. Happy, bright. He would fight for what is rightfully deemed important, or die trying. He tries to sink himself fully into the rage that imbued the rest of them.

"Yes..." Slightest of shivers, he'd whisper his acknowledgement to their deputy. Ghostly words, touched by absolute veneration. It is no trouble for him to tread quietly, and as the dry grass becomes sodden earth, he may allow that wave of anticipation to pass. "For Juniperfrost..." He is much quieter, but if you leaned close, you would hear him among them. His eyes never seem to remain in one place... flicking, flickering. He blinks the tears away. Oh, if he's lucky he could find what Mintshade was looking for...

[ open to an opponent !! visibly would seem like easy pickings as a tiny watery-eyed cat but he will put up a fight <3 ; contact on discord if you'd like to roll dice rehehehe ]​

 

[Cindershade]

Unable to rest, she had been settled outside of the makeshift warriors den, listening to the sweet sounds of the gorge in the background. The brisk air of the night air kissed her shaded pelt, bringing a certain drowsiness to the back of her eyes as they began to close.

Until the sickly stench of moorland grass and heather permeates her nose.

Upon her feet within a second, glossy fur now disheveled and bristling she hears paw steps thundering upon the ground before them. WindClan! They were attacking? Planning on raiding RiverClanin the dead of night? Cindershade's black lips curl back tightly as screeches and yowls succumb over her. Bodies clash around her with gnashing teeth and spits. She knew WindClan would have retaliated over Juniperfrost's death, but not like this. They had found their temporary camp, raiding their home and breaking down dens. Invaders! Moorland rats! "WindClan!" The molly hisses, fury blooming within her chest. She snakes through the bodies, avoiding claws and flailing limbs of Smokethroat and Willowroot. Chartreuse eyes narrowed to pinpoint slits as she settles among a lengthy tom speaking to his apprentice before stalking amongst the thrall of battle, readying to attack. She'd recognized him from previous Gatherings before, but did not remember the name bestowed upon the tabby tom. Quickly, she slides among the shadows to blend in, muscular limbs pulled taut as she prowled around towards his flank. You'll come to regret ever stepping foot here.
Quickly, without a sound she aims to launch her muscular frame upon the tom. Razor edged claws slid from their sheaths, itching to drive into skin and feel the tearing sensation beneath her force. She aims to hook claws into his shoulder and pull at the muscle, wanting to see crimson pool around her dark paws. She's smaller, but no stranger to a devilish skirmish. Her eyes ran cold, green ice as they flashed to meet his own fiery gaze. "May darkness consume you." The woman whispers, a small smile playing upon her lips.

Rolled a 5; attacking @TIGERFROST
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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​

 

[TIGERFROST]

Tags and Information

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From the darkness of the starlit night, a shadow moves unseen and unheard, until the weight crashes down upon Tigerfrost's back. He snarls at the burning sensation of razor-tipped claws burrowing into his flesh, the RiverClanner's foul scent washing over his nose as she whispers venom into his ears. Tigerfrost snorts, curling his lip, "Fool. Your clan deserves to be called nothing more than worm food for what you have done!" He jerks in place, slams his own body to the ground as he rolls and attempts to crush Cindershade against the earth beneath him. He's wounded, but nonetheless ferocious in a fight. And... he knew something that she didn't know, something that filled his heart with a roaring glee. By the time she and her rat-hearted friends figured it out, it'd be too late.

"Sheltering a murderer. StarClan will not welcome you kindly after I send you to their borders!" A threat that flies with spittle past his fanged maw. Had it not been for his racing adrenaline, he'd surely feel the crippling fire of his own torn and bloodied flesh. In that moment though, he roars his challenge without an ounce of fear.

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15 of 20 HP / rolled a 3 for defense and a 3 for attack
███████████████▒▒▒▒▒
@Cindershade ​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

The bridge is but a distance, hazy memory, he recalls victory despite his near death. A rabbit won and a pack of mongrels chased away. Though he'd lost an eye he earned much more and that was the respect of his clan who could see him as a cat who would die to defend them, who would do what it took to keep them fed; he could ask for nothing more and wanted nothing more. Simple acceptance and acknowledgement was enough. His memory burns at the recollection of a cinnamon maw calling him disloyal and it invigorates him with more fire.
They were more evenly matched than he remembered, perhaps a proper battle without the bastard calling for his clanmates to aid him made it more clear; but in the end it didn't matter how often they darted in to strike the other and dance back, eventually one would falter and Weaselclaw did. A swing, claws in his flank for only a moment before he twists away before they can sink in further and get any kind of traction against him. Smokethroat is not a cat for speed, he is meant to overpower, his time in two-leg place had left him without much care for darting about and dodging when he could simply wear the scars of his battles on his pelt as a future warning to any who might try to face him.
When he moves in to strike the other once more it is with no weaving or attempts to feint but a frontal lunge to try and once again throw him back where he could get his teeth into the flesh of his neck and sink them in.

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[Ooc]
- @WEASELCLAW
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[Mintshade]

The lanky silver molly suddenly darting towards her is met with a hiss, the slam to her side only briefly staggering her before she is turned to brace herself and raising her head to full height. What a posh little princess RiverClan had sent against her, a little speck of light battering against the shadows of the moorland she-cats dark coat. It was laughable and she did laugh, voice a high cackling hyena song in face of the tiny tabby standing against her. Did she not know who she was? Did she not know her name? Had she not been present for the Great Battle and witnessed her righteous fury as she picked kittypets more hardy than her apart and used their broken claws to pick her teeth.
"Aren't you a cute little thing? Come to be the hero? Going to put this mean old WindClanner down? I'd like to see you try, Gyeh heheheheheh!"
The knock to her shoulder had been nothing, hadn't even made her lose her balance (entirely) and she whirled around like a whip cracking to sling her claws toward that pale muzzle, to maw that perfect face.

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[Ooc]
- Attacking @Lakemoon .
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[Cindershade]

Success. She's caught him by surprise as her claws dig in, tearing at skin and muscle. Cindershade balances on top of the larger tom like a parasite, his roaring grating her ears as he spews his decree like some withering fool. The so-called knight had entered the dragon's hold and she was going to make him pay for doing so. Suddenly he jerks upwards, and now he's throwing himself on the ground. Just like any other fish-brsined fool who had fought against her, trying to use their weight in an advantage of a fight. Tigerfrost slams his weight down to rid of her, to squish her beneath his mass. "Be a little more creative." The lead warrior sneers as she maneuvers to his other side just as he hits the clearing, pushing off to land on front of him with grace.
"We are worm food? Whilst your warrior screams deathly threats upon her son who's done nothing? I wish I was there to help her kill the bastard!" Her poisonous words drip from an open maw, incisors glinting in the veil of the moon as she spit at the tom's direction. He threatens her with her own death and her eyes flashed with a certain darkness, unnerving. Cindershade would never feel fear from dying. Perhaps finally then, she'd grt some peace. But not yet. "Where I'll be sending you, there will be no stars. Only utter darkness and the smell of soil." And with that, a paw aims to lash out towards his muzzle. Crimson stained claws itch to feel his fur underneath their grasp once more, to swipe his voice from raging vocal chords and silence him forever.

//rolled a 6 for defense; and a 2 for attack @TIGERFROST

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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​