sensitive topics On Earth or below (WindClan)

The call to war is a brilliant one, but the voice that calls it isn't Sootstar. No, the Queen of the Moors wasn't present at this battle, it seems- a lucky coincidence, considering Hyacinth would go after her first. Nonetheless, her face pokes out of the medicine den warily, looking around to make sure nobody was coming before she turns to @BEESONG .

"I can't just stand and watch.. I'm going out to fight." Wounded or not, she could suffice with more scars if needed. Cats are already fighting, but she spots Smokethroat in a tussle with Weaselclaw; her blood runs cold. The man she once called a brother.. A fellow soldier, he was trying to kill her best friend now. Hyacinthbreath wants to run over and help, but he hasn't called for any yet- so instead, she sneaks along the outside of the fighting to find her own opponent- searching for those beady eyes that she couldn't stand.

But Juniperfrost is nowhere to be found. Part of her is thankful, her child was safe as long as Juniper wasn't around, but she knows Peri was most likely struggling with the news that his mother was a murderer. Aren't we all, though? She hopes he's hiding out for safety, hopes he isn't anywhere near the battle. She couldn't protect him anymore, not like this. Cindershade voices her support, Hyacinth's chest heaving with a held-back growl at the thought of her son being hurt or even worse, killed.

"And I'll do it again!" She yowled loud enough for the whole small makeshift camp to hear, fur along her spine rising in disgust. "Juniperfrost threatened the one thing he shouldn't have. I don't regret crushing that arrogant little head of his that day."

// currently pacing the outskirts of the battle away from the medicine den. open to attack. roll for results in my channel! - saeyoung ​
❝ there are wounds inside me, gaping holes of disconnect.
can you drown inside your own body? can you suffocate within this mind? ❞
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the mottled leader does not sleep easily. the moon is high, tendrils of cloud whisking lazily over the star-studded sky. he is half - lounging outside the medicine den, chin resting on sharp, ivory paws when the stench of dirt and hare floods his senses. its instinctive, the way his nose crinkles and wide fly wide. what in starclan’s name.. he backs up, attempts to blend into the shadows behind him until he can process the scene, cranes his ears forward and.. through the undergrowth of the beech copse they come. a patrol of reeking, rat - like windclanners. there is shrieking in mere seconds, bloodcurdling yowls of fury from both sides, something of juniperfrost. he wants to move forward, wants to scream, to force them out with his claws and anger alone — but he knows his limits. he knows his strengths, and full - frontal attack has never been one of them. he leans down, hopes the darkness shields him enough, though the moon upon his white mask illuminates him even from within the den, should one look hard enough.

a calico rounds the outskirts of his camp and he watches silently — she is focused on weaselclaw, engaging his lover, and brief panic overtakes him. it beats against his chest like a bird in a cage, pulses against his ribs, but slowly @SCORCHSTREAK rounds the fringes and his hind limbs adjust enough to send him flying from the shadows within the den while they’re focused on the fray. disgusting, vile moorland vermin — he can’t help a violent hiss from flying past his maw, “ get — “ should he succeed, he attempts to use the leverage gained from attacking from behind to sink long, arching claws into their shoulders and teeth into the side of her face, the force of his leap likely sending them toppling. he is large, looming, and windclan.. small. almost too small for the length of him — he is all limbs, teeth and claw, “ OUT, get OUT. moorland PIGS, i’ll flay you and bury your filthy bodies in the dirt place where they BELONG! ” angry. he’s angry, who the hell was juniperfrost? he could only assume it to be the one hyacinthbreath had killed, and the thought only ignites him more. he was going to kill her — he was going to KILL THEM.

/ rolled a five on stealth attack, coming from behind when they round the area in front of the den hes in! since i see you’re not rolling, i only ask the experience difference be taken into account! he fights very dirty.

− ♱ information out of character ⟐ visual reference translated ♱ −
  • ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
    m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.

    ᨒ gay, courting smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
    ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 40 moons, ages on the eighth.
    penned by antlers​

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  • none.

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It's a familiar scene that's placed before him. River versus Wind.

It's night, and their temporary home is shrouded in darkness. And Gillpaw - Gillpaw's settled into his nest, slowly drifting off to sleep; a slumber he won't get to have. The scent of moors fills his nose, wakes him with a jolt.

It... It couldn't be... Could it? WindClan invading? The apprentice must've been dreaming - sleep must have dug up memories of battling the moor-dwellers, of fresh wounds in place of healed scars. A nightmare, it must have been. Gillpaw shifts in his nest, lays his head back down. Only for...

A shout. A hiss. A yowl.

WindClan is here, raging war on the river and its inhabitants.

Heart beating fast, the boy leaps to his paws and races out of the apprentice den. He aims to assess the situation, to take action if he needs to - but just like the war, his own battle is brought to him in a force against his side. He stumbles, finds himself beneath blue and white fur with a shout in surprise.

Claws unsheathe as Gillpaw twists around to strike, swiping at the WindClanner in hopes of drawing blood and giving way to an escape from their grasp.

// attacking @Azaleapaw !​
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✵ ღ ☾ IT TOOK ME BY SURPRISE - The moment Lakemoon made contact, her world became nothing but the midnight enemy.
Her head rings but only for a moment, her composure quickly regained by the time Mintshade has found her steady footing. As the other hums along to her own cocky tune, Lakemoon keeps her crouched posture, thick pelt doing well to hide her tall stature while sapphire eyes set ablaze take her opponent in. Almost untouched, spare for a single muted scratch across the bridge of her nose, almost underwhelming compared to Lakemoons own, that told their own stories from head to toe. Either a fine opponent, or one to flee as soon as the fight turned, Lakemoon could only assume.
Narrow eyes flicker down just in time to see the heel of Mintshades forepaw turn ever so slightly, giving away that a counter move was finally on its way.
❝ Hm. ❞
She’s able to swiftly dodge any critical damage, but the claws do connect with the base of her ear with an agonizing wince as flesh tears through.
Through the burning red that blossoms at the newly torn hole, Lakemoon takes her split second of an opportunity while the mollys chest was open with her fleeting outstretched forepaw, to dart forward once more, jaws outstretched, and attempt to sink her teeth into the windclanners shoulder blade, pushing out her hindlegs in an attempt to overpower the wiry molly.

@Mintshade
❝ Speech. ❞
THE HATRED IN HER EYES​
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As soon as the first screeches sound, Mudpelt is on his paws and slipping out of the makeshift den he's found himself in. The sight he meets sends a shock through him. Through wide eyes, he watches as WindClanners assail his clanmates, just as their heads were about to hit their nests. Slack-jawed, he stands frozen for a minute, instinctively scanning the clearing for his mate and kits. He does not see any of them straight away, but the realization hits him that he must fight. He has to keep his clan and family safe. Letting out a battle cry, the hulking tom bounds into the throng of cats, teeth bared and claws unsheathing. The first WindClanners he sees, he approaches.

They are young, from the looks of it. Even still, they are the enemy and have the potential to do harm to RiverClanners all the same. He has no intention of fighting dirty with two young apprentices, but he will fight with all his might to drive them off. "Last chance!" He warns them, ears pinned against his head. The father in him does not want to square off with such new apprentices, but he has a clan to protect. "Go home!" It's snarled, and he hopes it's enough to scare them off. Unfortunately, he knows it's not likely.

// Attempting to warn off @sparkpaw. @SNAKEPAW
I don't usually roll, but I'm willing to roll with advantage considering skill and experience difference!​
 

There was something exciting about having an enemy struggle beneath your paws. The thrill of the hunt, the moment for which teeth meet the jugular of struggling prey drawing near. It was such a delight, but she couldn't end it this quickly, no. She came here to fight, not mercy kill.

Claws raked across her face, causing her to step off of Gillpaw. The sting only served to drive her forward, and with a furious screech she aimed to slam her claws down on him before he could get up.

There was something different about this battle than the fights she had been in before. Before, it was only her and Reedstrike. Only her and that rogue. But now? Battle cries and shrieks rang out all around her. At any moment she could be attacked by another Riverclanner. It was a frenzy, each side screaming for blood, fueled by hatred.

And hatred was something she had plenty of. She would bring it all to beat on this battlefield, even if Riverclan wasn't the subject of her ire. She had to let it out somehow, and this was the perfect opportunity.

Besides, these cats would probably look down on her too. Her and her accursed kittypet blood. Well, tonight she would show these wild born cats the consequences of their prejudice.

@GILLPAW
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❪ TAGS ❫ — Snakepaw doesn't take too kindly to the idea of sharing the glory, not when he could hog the spotlight himself. He treats battle as if it's some sort of competition to see who could defeat the toughest opponent, some sort of kitten game. Teaming up with another apprentice had never really occurred to the arrogant youth, especially not with the son of a traitor to the clan. "I can fight my own battles." He harumphs in response to Sparkpaw.

A vaguely familiar yowl slices through the air, prompting Snakepaw to prick his ears and swivel to attention — Hyacinthbreath. There she is... the murderer herself! Standing alone as well, from the looks of it. He nearly grows giddy with anticipation at the very thought of lunging for her throat and tearing, being the hero of the raid, claiming victory in Juniperfrost's name. Could he alone pull it off?

However, it isn't long before a burly RiverClanner interrupts his scheming and stands right before Sparkpaw and Snakepaw. He folds his ears as the brown-hued warrior issues them both a warning snarl. There they are again, those incessant thoughts swarming his brain. This warrior was far larger than he was; does he challenge him or retreat like a soft kittypet? Raw fear buzzes in his heart like a wasp's nest, his skin prickling like touching tiny shards of ice, his teeth gritting together as the two toms stare down the beast.

Uncharacteristically for him, he would glance at Sparkpaw and give a nod of his head, "Together, just this once." If they worked together on this... well, maybe they wouldn't totally get their asses handed to them. Maybe.

Snakepaw quickly jumps to action, swiftly beginning to circle toward Mudpelt's backside like an adder slithering through the grasses. Whether that served as an ample distraction for Sparkpaw's sake or not, Snakepaw would propel off of his strong moor cat legs and attempt to latch himself onto Mudpelt's back using his claws.

// interacting with @sparkpaw. and attacking @MUDPELT ​
 
Tags and Information
Fury ignites within his belly like hot coals as she slithers out of the way of his crushing attack. His teeth snap together with a dangerous click, a hiss, vicious and serpentine, tore from his throat. Her words are akin to bile dripping into his ears, and as she lunges outward once more with extended claws, he jolts backwards, nails passing a half-whisker from his nose. The RiverClan Lead Warrior's words mean nothing to the prideful brute's ears, as the momentum of his backwards motion propels him upward to balance upon his back paws. Like a viper, he lashes forward with both front limbs, aiming to slam them, one right after the other, down atop Cindershade's skull, claws stretched to rake across as much flesh as they could reach.

The skirmish had erupted now, into furious shrieks, growls, and hisses. He thinks he catches brief sight of Cicadastar erupting onto the field, his words bold and furious. Hyacinthbreath's own vocals slice through the blood-spray, and Tigerfrost can only curl his lip with rage and he spits toward his own opponent, "Did she tell the truth about the murder, or did she drip lies into your ears?" The WindClanner snarls toward Cindershade. "I bet you lapped them up as quickly as you would a fish, hmm? Her lies? Or perhaps she told you what actually happened. Perhaps she told you the truth, and you fight to defend her anyways!" His growling is of rage, and a tingling sensation of bloodthirst that ripples just beneath his skin like a poison. "Killers and thieves, the lot of you." And it seems that he dueled his opponent not simply with tooth and nail, but with tongue as well, his taunts and insults like fire from his jaws.

15 of 20 HP / rolled a 4 for defense and a 5 for attack
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@Cindershade
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This was the cost of WindClan's war against the world. Their legs had been shaking like little leaves the entire journey to the river, their face void of the very emotions their body seemed all too willing to share. Not too long ago, they'd befriended a RiverClan apprentice. Now, there was a very high possibility that they would meet that creature in battle and see the hurt in their eyes and the tabby couldn't even blame them. They didn't want to be here but apprenticed to a Lead Warrior and on their last chance within their home, it was this or be forced to do more than just re-education. It didn't take long for RiverClanners to find them and for the battle to commence, a sea of blood and fur marring the campgrounds. Don't look... don't look... But it was everywhere, contorting in the corners of his visions like manipulated shadows. Tigerfrost told them to stay close but they didn't acknowledge it before he too was locked in combat. In the eye of the storm, there was a brief calm in spite of their restless heart. No one was attacking them.

They could be a hero.

Their eyes settled upon the den the injured Hyacinthbreath emerged from, wide with a mixture of fear and acknowledgment. Fuck hurting anyone, they decided then, slipping through the fighting crowd like the very fish RiverClan liked to hunt. They looked like the quintessential RiverClanner, they offered a silent prayer to StarClan that saved them from the ire of RiverClanners going to kill their clanmates. Icebreath had earned so much through toying with another clan's herbs, all Snailpaw could think of at that moment was doing the same to rid themselves of the stain of traitor. It was just a little further until they'd reached the nest, their belly low to the ground and their ears flattened to protect against the awful noises behind them.

// open to attack - only doing dice rolls!
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Were they not in the midst of battle, Sparkpaw might go so far as to roll his eyes at Snakepaw. I can fight my own battles, he'd mimic with a high-pitched voice. They've no time for that now, and no such luck. If the battle goes well he might take to it later, teasing the older apprentice as they bask in the sunshine and laugh off their wounds. If, if, if.

The RiverClanner that approaches them does not make that seem possible. He is strong the way that moor cats are not, stockier than he is lean, though still tall enough to cast a shadow. It is clear that the tom had seen plenty of battles before. Had he fought at Fourtrees? Did he know what it was like to kill another, or to lose someone he cared for? The world slows down as he processes Mudpelt's warning, his mind a haze of information it cannot process. As soon as Snakepaw begins moving, however, it all comes zipping back with a heaping of nausea alongside it. Electric blue eyes dart after the other apprentice as he slinks around the RiverClanner– he reacts immediately, trying to keep Mudpelt facing him with quick swipes at his muzzle and chest. His reach is not as long as a fully grown warrior's, drawing him closer than he would like to the dark brown pelt, but Sparkpaw can only hope that he would be fast enough to dodge if he needed to.
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˗ˏˋ  †〚  OOC REFERENCE INFORMATION 〛
  • ooc: attacking @MUDPELT alongside @SNAKEPAW
  • scarlet_ledger2.png
  • 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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The calico is surveying the tussling cats, hackles raised and anticipating an attack, searching for a target. They are expecting a RiverClan rat to spring from the midst of the battle, but in a momentary lapse of focus they don’t take notice of RiverClan’s own stork-legged leader until it is too late. There’s a small noise, enough to alert them, but it doesn’t make a difference.

The force of another body slamming into theirs sends them stumbling, rolled onto their side in the dirt, stinging pain rolling through their shoulders. It isn’t an unfamiliar position to be in, dirt coating coarse fur and a larger enemy bearing down upon her. Teeth sink into her cheek, and she jerks her head to the side—blazing eyes catch on her attacker’s features.

Cicadastar. This is not just any maggot-bellied river cat, this is their leader. He is spitting mad, practically frothing like some diseased vermin, but his words slide past her ears without effect. She does not care for words—she cares for the pulse hammering in her ears, the thrum of adrenaline in her veins. She does not need words to kill this man.

But first, she must not let this vile man kill her. Within her tunnels, she would have him beaten swiftly—here, she does not have the protection of her tunnels, and he has her in a vulnerable position. But she bares her teeth, hisses and spits at the tom above her. Even without the cover of tunnels, there is still dirt around her, an aid to her.

With a paw, she aims to fling dirt, sand, whatever she can reach, into the face of @CICADASTAR. If successful, she will kick out with a hind leg, aiming for whatever part of his underside that she can reach.
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[ MONSTROUS WOMAN ]​
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Claws barely able to graze the WindClan warrior, Cindershade is only able to grasp at the air from where he had been. She grunts in annoyance as Tigerfrost continues to rage about Hyacinthbreath and Juniperfrost. What was he talking about? What lies was the silver tabby supposedly dripping into their ears? Juniperfrost was on their side of the border when she found the former exile bashing his skull into the stone. She had said that he crossed the bridge, or else how would he have gotten there? "You expect me to believe she made him cross the bridge? Does it matter anyways? You vermin are a threat to the clans as a whole. You're leeches, the lot of you! Don't speak to me about thieving when you stole herbs from SkyClan!" Her rasped voice booms back, maneuvering to knock into him.
Within seconds, Tigerfrost's heavy paws came down hard upon her head, grasping and tearing at the back of her cranium whilst one claw gets hooked in her left ear. Her jaws clench hard, accidentally piercing the inside of her lip at the momentum of the blow. Adrenaline pumps into overdrive within her veins, her heart hammering wildly in her chest and threatening to burst from it's ivory cage. Her own blood permeates the air, a mixture of Tigerfrost's own ichor. She wriggles beneath his grasp, blackened lips pulled back to bare teeth in determination. She finally whips her head upwards, tearing his claws out of her ear and leaving it torn open. Lacerations covered the back of her skull, dark crinson dripping down her forehead and the side of her neck where her ear was split. The warrior would surge upwards now with brute upper body strength, attempting to tear at more flesh; more muscle and took aim to his exposed chest to hook into him and tear him open. By StarClan she'd show him, she'd show all of WindClan she wasn't to be trifled with.

HP - 15 OUT OF 20
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//rolled a 2 for defense and 3 for offense @TIGERFROST

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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​
 
Tags and Information
She spins lies from her tongue like a spider spins silk. Tigerfrost snarls, lip curled and teeth bared as the sensation of flesh ripping beneath his razor-tipped claws surges a prideful heat through his spirit. Metallic blood-scent taints the air as droplets of scarlet paint damp earth. So much for their temporary little home, for the gore and scars of war will have splattered every den, memories for RiverClan to remember them by. Perhaps they'd think twice before murdering a loyal warrior in cold blood again! But Cindershade retaliates viciously, her upper body jolting upward to meet his as talons arched through the skin and flesh of his own chest. Breath explodes from his maw as he spits, hisses his pained fury in the midst of their violent struggle.

"Gah." The growl rips from his throat as he twists to the side, away from her lashing talons. He aims a clumsy swipe at the side of her head once he's regained footing on all four paws, now snarling harshly toward the RiverClanner he faced without fear, despite the weight of tiredness creeping into his bloodied limbs.

"We asked first. SkyClan refused to help our dying. We did what we had to. At least we didn't murder a SkyClanner in cold blood. At least we didn't drag them over the border so we could have an excuse." But he heard her words, loud and clear. It didn't matter to Cindershade if Hyacinthbreath had done just that, because she viewed WindClan as no better than leeches. Pests to be killed. "Your clan brings dishonor to this forest. You know no limits to your own evil!" And they all deserved to burn, to drown in their own precious river. Tigerfrost hated them. Hated them more than he had hated before, more than Dawnglare and those filthy kittypets. He hated Cindershade, he hated Hyacinthbreath, he hated their leader too. But the stars were watching on this night, high above their heads.

The very thought emboldens the tom to press on, despite his injuries.
12 of 20 HP / rolled a 2 for defense and a 1 for attack
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@Cindershade
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White paws are splashed with crimson over a successful hit to the apprentice's face. It is enough to cause the WindClanner to shift off of Gillpaw in the slightest, the black and white apprentice making his attempt to escape. To find Clearsight, to get help.

But his plan fails before it can even begin, hardly a step taken forward before he's back on the ground, ears ringing from a shilling screech above. The warm sensation of stinging pain stabs into his shoulders, sunflower eyes widening with panic as he tries to escape once more - back paws attempting to kick the moor-dweller off of him so that he can stand and give way to a proper fight.

If he couldn't get help, then he'll fight this one himself.

Gillpaw's first fight had gone easier than this. Though he'd been terrified, he'd fought his hardest against the honey-furred apprentice. Like a warrior, he was told afterwards. Meeting the apprentice in combat had been quite the feat, for he was no easy match. The apprentice he fights now, however, is different. More aggressive. Swift. Perhaps ready to kill, if Gillpaw were to slip up.

He'll have to fight like a warrior again. Harder than that, Gillpaw thinks he'll have to fight as if he has the power of StarClan in his paws, to rid of the WindClanners that invade his home.

Another attempt is made before he knows the success of the first one, head craning to the side with gnashing teeth, an attempt to bite the apprentice's forepaws, if he manages to reach them. If successful in his escape from beneath the apprentice, he'll rise to his paws, twisting around to strike the moor-dweller.

// attacking @Azaleapaw !​
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Weaselclaw does not get a significant wound from his strike at Smokethroat's flank, but when he pulls his claws away, their tips are red with blood. The briefest surge of satisfaction keeps his paws moving, back as the dark lead warrior lunges for the soft flesh and fur of his neck. The fangs graze him, dangerously close to what could have been his death. It is only Weaselclaw's speed that saves him, his feint backward keeping him uninjured.

Unlike Smokethroat, Weaselclaw is not built for strength. His shoulders are narrow, his body lanky and lean. He's made to race through the moors, sprinting after his prey and feeling the wind in his fur. The other's blows are undoubtedly less merciful, but Weaselclaw does not let that deter him. The tabby feints to the left, toward Smokethroat's blind side, before flashing his claws toward the dark tom's chest area. He aims to claw him somewhere between his chest and throat.

// attacking @Smokethroat​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​
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Smokethroat isn't stupid, his opponent is just faster than him enough to avoid being hit with his quick slashes and he was just observant enough to avoid letting the moorland cat get a good hit in; his time training to compensate for his missing eye making him even more focused than he was before. They were getting nowhere, he had only the faintest sheen of red upon his claws, the most minimal tang of copper scent in the air. Around him his clanmates yowled and screamed in righteous indignation to the attack, fought for their lives to defend this hole of a camp. They may not be pleased being stuck here, but they were not going to just allow this injustice to ride. The dark tom's tail lashed, irritation evident in his movements as he stalked to the side and lowered raised his head up with a confident tilt; the scar from their last battle just visible on this throat from parted fur.
Always keep them guessing, he showed his teeth in a snide smile; murderous intent dancing across his single orange eye that burned fire and brimstone.
He was done with this game. Tired of it, he wanted blood across the pebbled earth beneath his paws now and he was done waiting for an opening. He'd make one. Leaving himself open for attack he went charging forward to try and slam into the brown tabby and send them both rolling; spitting and hissing across the ground.
[Ooc]
- @WEASELCLAW
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Weaselclaw shares his opponent's frustration, and he makes a subconscious decision to end this fruitless song and dance. Safety is no longer a concern of his -- he wants his claws to run red with Smokethroat's blood, he wants Juniperfrost's death to have been for something, he wants to bring this heathen's pelt home for his children to chew on. The tabby snarls as Smokethoat flings himself in his direction with all of his power -- the two of them collide in a spectacular whirl of brown and black fur, showering the other with enraged spittle.
Weaselclaw can feel Smokethroat's claws sinking into his shoulders, can feel wetness wealing where he's gripped him. The brown tabby parts his jaws and attempts to sink them into the soft skin of Smokethroat's namesake, hoping to force the other to let go of him or at the very least drown him in blood.

// @Smokethroat ​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​
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The battle erupts, and yet Lambcurl is left standing. Weaselclaw crashes into a cat the likes of which he's never seen; like the sky itself, midnight black and smattered with stars. Cuts across that face and absence of the eye gives the sense of something formidable, power he may shudder at, and oh– Something clicks. Long-standing disagreement. They were meant to meet again, weren't they?

A thick-smoked feline launches their way to poor Badgermoon, a silver warrior makes for Sootstar's kin, a black-shaded feline makes for Tigerfrost, and oh, for all that he'd like to offer; there are simply too few of him to accomplish what he wants– to run to them all. Lambcurl is only still, as he watches it all unfurl. Alone, left to burn... And he catches a glimpse of studded silver.

Isn't it something? Isn't it her? The object of their desires– dead or alive, he would think. She lurks on the edges of their camp, and towards her, Lambcurl drifts. You can spot her through the bodies if you look hard enough, and unconsciously, he gets closer It's like a game. Though, it's not so hard anymore when she screams.

And it's sad, what she does. His lips press into a thin line. And he's in front of her now. And his eyes are wide, and he sees straight through her. "Why kill for no reason?" He'd been mangled too. Nothing was right. "How much did you like it? You didn't have to..." A step closer, a glance to her paws. "You don't have to keep going..." Wouldn't everyone be that much happier?

[ harassing @hyacinthbreath !! ]​
 


Paws pushed her off her target and she growled. Azaleapaw couldn't let herself be bested. Not here, this was her best chance to show these Windclan cats she wasn't worthless... and yet teeth sank into her forepaw, and she felt the heat of frustration burn in her heart.

She needed to show him who the better apprentice was.

Now the other was on his feet....

Fine then. Struggle.

She strafed around her opponent and sized him up... He didn't seem as battle hungry as she was. His loss, she would use this against him. She bore her teeth again into a nasty snarl. She could scare him.

With a feral screech, she darted for him and swung with her left paw in a feint attack aimed at his eyes while her right paw aimed to slam down on his head with as much force as she could muster.



@GILLPAW
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A devilish grin crinkled glowing green eyes, crimson blood blotting her adorned features as they find purchase in Tigerfrost's chest. Skin splits from the force and he spits from the pain, his breath leaving his lungs from her brute force. The thrill of the battle invigorates from within her, frigid gooseflesh chilling down her spine with excitement. It had been so long—too long, since she had battled someone like this. Tigerfrost was an experienced warrior, that she could see and that just made their entanglement all the better. Someone challenging of tooth and claw, able to keep toe-to-toe with her. It was a shame he was apart of WindClan, or she might hold a smidgen of respect for the lengthy lead warrior.
But he was WindClan. He was apart of the rotting corpses of the moors, taking seige upon their temporary home and wanting revenge over a fallen clanmate. He throws a heavy paw towards her face, though it was evident her blow had him reeling and a bit disoriented. This attack wasn't as precise, more so an instinctual retaliation. The rosetted warrior weaves clear of his swipe, squatting herself low while his foreleg rushes just past her bloodied ear. All she felt was the wind that whisked past her canals, stepping backwards for a brief moment to survey him.
Tigerfrost continues to speak about the situation with Hyacinthbreath, even amidst the situation with SkyClan. Is that what the patrol had told them back home? That Hyacinthbreath dragged a warrior larger than she, across the border and then killed him? Cindershade couldn't help but bark out a laugh to the earthen tom, hollow and cruel in his presence. "Is that right? If your patrol saw this, then why not stop it? They could've killed her easily then, killed her and saved your 'precious clanmate'. But they didn't. I was there. I pulled her away from him and they said nothing! Because the lot of you are no better than the rats in carrion place. All you do is claim you're so righteous when you're nothing but monsters! That wretched leader of yours will send you all into into darkness!" And with her last boisterous message, her voice kept level and firm while moving to clash with the warrior once more. She launches herself towards him, bared fangs exposed and talons extended to find purchase upon each shoulder and anchor herself in. She wanted to dig into his fresh wound, to use her own momentum in efforts to throw him down upon the earth and stand over him with the stars and moon at her back. StarClan would smile down upon RiverClan on this night, for defending their home until they could no longer pull breath from their lungs.

// rolled a 6 for defense and 4 for attack @TIGERFROST
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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​
 
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