private right and wrong ╱ battle, mud

[HOUNDSTRIDE.]

in character   out of character   character tags   reference

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  † ( ᴛᴀɢs. )  ❝  The battle's roaring around him like the rushing of the tide, like the river he'd grown so fond of hiding away in. Perhaps if he kept far from this place he'd've avoided this battle the way he avoided the tension. Keeping away from it all did some sort'f good– if I don't see it, it's not happening. But Briar'd called for war, and Hound, for all his reluctance to die and kill for this swampy ground, was as loyal as a beast could be. He'd thrown himself into it with as much gusto as he could manage, darting between opponents as others came to their defense, or another'f his own colony needed help. Blood drips to his eye from a cut just below his ear– he's lucky it wasn't shredded, or his eye wasn't blinded. As if anything about this was lucky at all. It was still a war he's no interest in fighting.
  
  Not for the reasons they'd hoped, in any case. And still he fought for it. What'd that say about him?
  
  "Still haven't gotten it, have you?" Hound grouses as he finds himself matched to a new opponent. A familiar one, from the riverbank. Hound lunges for him in a guileless opening, striking directly for Mud's chest. "Should just leave well enough alone," he grunts.​
  
  

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• n/a​
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• ──── complete information can be found here.
  ──── hound. trans male, he/him pronouns only.
  ──── approximately 30 moons old, or 2.5 years.
  ──── bisexual with firm male preference; single.
  
  ──── a chocolate tabby with ( stylized ) low white and intense lime eyes.
  ──── lean and lanky,  with whiplike musculature and a long, quick stride.
  ──── hound's notable features include his impressive height (fifteen inches at the shoulder), the long scar across the left side of his face from nose to jaw, his very deep, dense fur, and the confident manner with which he conducts himself.​
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[MUDPELT]

Mud hadn't wanted a fight, but by the stars he'd help end the one that the marsh cats had begun. His daughter and mate lived in these woods, and he'd do everything in his power to keep them safe, so he was there, fighting and swiping and hissing and biting with the rest of them. A new tom stood before him now, grumbling about should-haves and what-ifs. Mud found himself snarling back, fangs bared as he danced backwards to narrowly avoid the paw that may as well have snipped his fur. Close call.

"You rat-hearts started this!" He rounded back, ears pinned against his head as he made his move now. Lurching forward, he reared up on his hind legs and attempted to come down on the other tom, using every bit of his strength in an effort to bring him to the ground. If it was dodged, he'd be wide open for retaliation while he recovered.
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"speech"​