wc rebels rolling like thunder [gathering talk]

[SCORCHSTREAK]

The moon is full in the sky, shining down over the barn and all its inhabitants. Usually around this time of month, she thinks they would all be gathered at Fourtrees; Sunstride’s followers clearly have no place there. They are WindClanners, true as can be, but they are not WindClan any longer. None amongst them is blessed by the stars as Sootstar is. Besides, a trek to the gathering would put them at risk for another battle with Sootstar’s loyal warriors. They can’t afford another fight right now—and the thought makes Scorchstreak’s head hurt. Rumblerain, the kit she’d named after one of her closest companions, had chosen to stay behind. They’d chosen Sootstar. She doesn’t know what she’d do if she were to meet them in battle. She cannot repeat what she’d done to Dappledsun. The thought nearly makes her sick. She squints up at the moon, as though it will tell her anything she doesn’t already know.

Tucked into the barn as they are, it’s difficult to find privacy, and so the calico has made her way out to a secluded space away from the others. She isn’t certain what she had originally planned to do, but she finds herself drawing a black paw up to her chest, setting claws against the scar that’s etched into pale fur. It would be so easy to drag four lines across it, to see it ruined in one quick swipe. She’s seen the fresh line that bisects the older one across Sunstride’s chest. She’s seen the mess that Bluepool had made of her own flesh in order to disrupt hers. Each of them has severed their physical ties to Sootstar, it seems.

The moorland queen’s closest, the three of them had once been—though Scorchstreak can understand why the others had followed Sootstar for so long. Sunstride had come from Gin’s group, and had risen to the rank of deputy despite it. Bluepool was bound to the smoky-furred she-cat in blood. They’d both had Sootstar’s claws dug into them from the moment they set foot upon WindClan’s territory—what excuse does she have? She had willingly believed everything the leader had said, had been ready to tear innocent cats apart for her—she had killed her own son for Sootstar’s sake. A wretched feeling coils in her stomach, and the calico can recognize it immediately. Guilt. Golden eyes flick to the claws that hover over her chest. She could end this quickly. She could cover the marking that ties her permanently to Sootstar. She could be free, at last, of every last reminder of her time spent as nothing more than the queen’s loyal hound.

With a ragged exhale, she draws her paw away from her chest, settling it firmly back onto the ground. Claws sink into soil, ripping at it in the same way she’d wanted to rip into her own skin. Her jaw clenches so hard that she’s halfway certain she’ll crack a tooth. No, she thinks. She can’t do it. She doesn’t deserve to remove all traces of Sootstar’s influence—she was not just a victim, she was complicit.

The tunneler turns and heads back toward the building, slinking inside silently. Her face is flat, a stoic mask as usual. Her clanmates, her fellow exiles, are settled into their nests for the most part, but few seem to be sleeping already. Scorchstreak can feel eyes on her as she strides over to her own nest. In a practiced, smooth movement she settles down, gently kneading at the wool that lines it. Then, to no one in particular she muses, "The moon looks full. The gathering should be coming up soon, maybe even tonight. What do you think Sootstar will tell the other clans?" How will she explain the absence of her deputy, her lead warriors, and half of her clan? How will she explain fresh wounds upon those who she takes along with her?​

[ BE A FIRE, BURN THIS DOWN ]​

​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── Wolfsong wonders, at times, what the other medicine cats must think of him. Do they despise him for being a WindClanner? Has Sootstar's claim over the Moonstone convinced them that he must have agreed to such madness, or do they think Wolfsong was unable to counsel her? He doubts they have such troubles reaching their own leaders, none of whom seem to have gone astray from StarClan. If they have, they do not seek to actively spite it as Sootstar does, and as he lifts his gaze to the field of stars obscured by the barn, he hopes they understand that he has not spurned them. Surely they would send him a dream of disapproval if they suspect he has turned his face from them?

He parts from Rivepaw reluctantly, if only to check on their clanmates' well-being. Wolfsong has neglected them these past days, fixed to his daughter's side.

His single eye finds Scorchstreak when she speaks. It is indeed the time of the Gathering, and while they can do nothing but speculate, it passes the time. "She may not tell them anything," Wolfsong says as he sits. "She has not always been forthcoming at Gatheringsm" And then he smiles, bitter and wry. "Or she will claim the former rogues in her ranks have attempted to overtake the clan, as the other rogues did."
​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 41 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
  — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
  — ★★★☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart and his own pregnancy, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

​

 

[HOUNDTHISTLE]

"BECAUSE COWBOY DAN'S A MAJOR PLAYER IN THE COWBOY SCENE"​

---

Houndthistle laid closer to the entrance on the edge of the rest of the nest, his large flank rising and falling with each breath but sleep could not claim him. He kept his ears perked, knowing that Sootstar likely knew where they were, where they were gathering strength. As calm as he felt this little rag tag group was without the strain of Sootstar's influence, that strain of paranoia that kept him glancing over his shoulder every time he left their makeshift camp, that caused him to count heads like compulsion twisted his gut. He rarely was the type to worry himself over others, having told his son to trust few, but he'd grown fond of many of the cats who he had rebelled with. Scorchstreak and her family, Wolfsong, Sunstride, their kits, Gravelsnap... even Periwinklebreeze had earned his protective gaze where before he looked upon Hyacinthbreath's kit with distrust. And, with bonds, came those thoughts of hypothetical vengeance. For, if he lost any of those who rested around him, he'd have nothing once more. Nothing to lose, so little more to gain. The only thing that would stop those hypothetical thoughts was the knowledge somewhere, he had blood who never knew him. How old were those kits now? Were they old enough to go to the gatherings? If Sootstar hadn't lost her mind, would he have been able to meet them this gathering?

"That's if she even went," He added gruffly, rolling over onto his stomach to gaze up at the rafters above, blocking the sight of the stars, "She's crazier then a bat wit' feathers fer brains, but she ain' stupid. If Shadowclan decided t' out what she did, those cats would rip 'er to shreds. She ain' protected under Starclan, afterall." He lifted his chin, gazing at Wolfsong and Scorchstreak upside down, lips pulled back by gravity into an almost humorous sneer.

---

"speech"

---

OOC CURRENT STATS INTERACTION RULES

• text
• Physical Health
  
  100%
  ⤷ left eye is blinded
  Mental Health
  
  98%
• 
  Single | Bicurious | Not actively looking | Interested in Wolfsong, Scorchstreak, Sootspritespark
  
  Houndthistle is both an easy one to gain the trust of and impossible to gain the trust of. He'll rarely reveal personal information or be vulnerable-if he's even capable of such things-but he will show trust in his willingness to lay his life down. To gain it, he needs evidence that you're loyal and strong, same as him, otherwise he understands he may one day have to come head to head with you.
  
  — will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy
  — excels at Fighting, Tracking, Following Orders, Intimidation
  — poor at climbing, swimming, stealth, talking, strategy, politics
  — sounds like: deep, gravelled and thick with a sort of country accent / Arthur Morgan
  — smells of iron, leather, and wood
  — speech is #435E75

​

 

[slateheart]

-ˋˏ ༻☽༺ ˎˊ- Though reclusive as he's always been, Slatetooth found himself gravitating towards the other exiles more and more since they moved to the barn. Oddly enough, he felt safe here, amongst like-minded individuals, knowing that there was no threat of Sootstar and her dogs within the bounds of the group. At least, he had hoped.

With the full moon shining brightly over head, a sense of sorrow fell over Slatetooth, despite all his personal victories. Though he had successfully severed the ties that held him under such wretched authority, from both his father and Sootstar, WindClan was.. still, his home. Even if he hadn't been born there; even if he had been wrongfully stolen away from his late mother to become a WindClanner. He was young then - the moors were now all he knew. He missed the Clans, though he'd rarely interacted with the others, and wondered if he would live to see another gathering. It was all he could do to hope.

It seems that the gathering was on the others' minds as well. He listened in closely, nestled close enough nearby the others to partake in the conversation. "Would Sootstar even go to the gathering? I mean, she didn't go to the last," he mumbled, recalling how Sunstride was sent in her place. Would her new deputy, whoever it was, take over this moon as well? "Would it be.. wise to go, with such diminished numbers? What would the other Clans think?" Sootstar was crazy, but not dumb. She was calculating in what she did, taking every possibility into account. Well, sometimes. Her kitnapping didn't work as planned, after all.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── WHEN YOU'RE YOUNG ⋅❁⋅ YOU'RE A LOADED GUN ──┐‎

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• 

• 
  SLATETOOTH ✩ he/him, moor-runner of windclan, 17 moons.
  ⭃ a reclusive short-haired black tom with low white and green eyes.
  ⭃ mate to no one. son of lynxtooth x adelaide. brother to gravelsnap and ashpaw.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by ixora ↛ @.ixora on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

Wolfsong responds first, appearing displeased with the idea of Sootstar’s potential actions even as he mentions them. He’s right, of course; Sootstar has never been especially open to sharing information with the other clans at gatherings. Perhaps she will concoct some kind of story, as Scorchstreak suspects she may have done with Badgermoon and Curlewnose. The blue-eyed tom’s next comment gives her pause, and she shifts within her nest. Wolfsong and Sunstride had each come into WindClan from a rogue group outside of the clan—it would make sense for Sootstar to lay blame upon them, after the rogues the clan had faced during the calico’s absence.

Houndthistle speaks up next, bringing up a good point, and Slatetooth agrees with him. Sootstar may not even deign to grace the gathering with her presence. Her eyes shift to where the hulking tom lies, a flicker of amusement at his position lighting in gold irises. Slatetooth questions the wisdom of Sootstar going to the gathering, anyway, and Scorchstreak finds herself agreeing with the young tom. "Part of me hopes that she does go, just so Chilledstar will confront her." Perhaps Smogmaw would take a shot at the smoky-furred leader; if that is the case, Scorchstreak only wishes that she could be there to see it.

She shakes her head. "Trying to understand what she’s thinking is enough to give me a headache," she finally says, ear flicking in irritation. It is a shame, truly. Once, she had thought she knew Sootstar well—at least, well enough to call the leader a friend. Now, she cannot imagine the snarling beast back in WindClan’s camp as any sort of ally. Sootstar is no more than a dog, leader of nothing but pack of hounds the same as those dogs who’d chased them on their way back from the mountains. Only this time, there is no running away from them. There are no cats from other clans to aid them. There is only Sunstride and what he decides is the best course of action for them all. Still, she can hope that the other clans will catch on, somehow, to their plight. RiverClan may be just as scummy as their algae-ridden waters, but extra claws in the fight could help. She’d even thank them, at this point.​

[ BE A FIRE, BURN THIS DOWN ]​

​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

Though Rattleheart had never fallen apart over not getting picked to go to a gathering, he found himself wishing now more than ever that he could attend one. He was staring through the tiny gaps in the ceiling wood of the twoleg barn from where he was laying, the soft dazzling shine of the moon above drawing his pale gaze toward it. Even throughout everything that Sootstar had done - every condemnation of the stars that she had announced - the tunneler had never lost his faith in Starclan. Though the cats sleeping in the stars had not been something that he had grown up with, he had taken to the concept quickly. It was a comfort to his anxious mind, knowing that there was a clan of truly good cats in the sky watching over them all. Cats that wanted to guide Windclan and every other clan with their wisdom - wisdom that had told them to gather peacefully each moon. The thought of Sootstar defying Starclan again and again and again made his ears pin back, though he found he couldn't be truly upset at the thought of her not attending this particular gathering.

Perhaps the other clans would sense that something was wrong, and decide that it was time for them to step in more directly. An idea that previously would have made all of those present recoil in disdain, but now actually seemed like a blessing. Though he doubted it, considering everything that had happened. What reason did any of them have to help Windclan, when Sootstar had enacted violence upon all of them? After she had stolen kits from a clan that had helped them?

Just thinking about all of it drew a heavy sigh from him, his chin resting against the edge of his newly-made nest as he listened to the chatter of his fellow exiled clanmates around him. Part of him was tempted to just turn around and block out the world, offer none of his own thoughts and block out all of the worry crawling up his spine. He didn't though, his long tail twitching and lashing near his side as he tore the moss of the nest beneath him to shreds with his claws. "I hope that she went just so that Starclan could confront her." Chilledstar and Shadowclan were a threat, yes, but they didn't have the sheer power that Starclan could command. "It's not like they haven't tried to destroy her once. Maybe they'd succeed this time if they struck her down when she took her place alongside the other leaders." It seemed so obvious looking back, hearing about the bolt that had nearly reduced Sootstar to nothingness in hushed whispers after the March gathering. He felt ashamed over how she had wiggled her way out of that one, silently cursing the mistakes of the past. They should've known then she would lead them to nothing but ruin - if not any earlier.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

The moon is full, and Scorchpaw wishes more than anything she were at the gathering.

She wants to cry out against her leader; wants to make right the wrongs she has stood by since kithood. Though she couldn't have known better before (she was only a girl), the journey had been the first crack in the facade. Now it has shattered around her completely. The stolen kits, the breaking of the code, even the exile of her father — Scorchpaw has always had her suspicions about Badgermoon's traitorous flight, but now more than ever she doubts the tale of his attacking Sootstar. She resents that she has hated him for it for moons now (her own mentor!), but even still the wound has not closed completely, and trying to forgive him despite knowing what she does now is still an arduous task. She wants to cry out for him, for the WindClanners they have lost to Sootstar's influence, for the kittens she had played with that now rest rightfully in their father's paws.

But she wants something else, too. Sugar-sweet, apple-red and plum-black and cream, eyes like the moon, wings fluttering behind the ear (does she still wear them?). Every now and again Scorchpaw swears she can smell SkyClan on the breeze, though she knows the pines are too far for it to be anything more than her imagination. She wants to see Cherrypaw. It's been two moons now since she'd returned from the journey, and though she hasn't seen the other calico molly since, her affection for her still lingers. Sometimes, she still dreams about the plush tail draping over her wiry, cropped pelt, shivering into each other in the depths of the cave system that had trapped them — a lick of comfort in a nightmare. And though Cherrypaw is the cat she would like to see again most, she also thinks of Figfeather, and Iciclefang, and then of Hailstorm and Sharpshadow and Batwing, and all of the other cats she had befriended but now may only see on a battlefield.

She settles down somewhere near her mother and uncle. The conversation ebbs and flows, in and out of her consciousness; she wears an expression as distant as the peaks they'd once traveled through. Absently, she finds herself wondering where Luckypaw was — and immediately following the thought, feels guilty for not wondering the same of Rumblerain. Maybe if she'd asked about them more, they would be here now; maybe if she had stayed behind with them, Sootstar wouldn't have dug her claws into them so much. Scorchpaw sniffs. "I wonder if Rumblerain went," she murmurs, ears lying morosely against her skull.

𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐈 𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐆𝐄 ✧ 𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙇𝙊𝙊𝘿

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• 
  
  — scorchkit . scorchpaw
  — she/they ; apprentice of windclan
  — short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — signature by dreamydoggo, template art by ska-i
  — penned by meghan

​

 

[PINKSHINE]

Pinkpaw usually doesn't care to hang out around a bunch of older cats, but she's kinda bored. And maybe she's kinda not the happiest cat in the world right now... And maybe, she's a really tough and responsible guard that wanted to make sure evil cats didn't leap from the shadows to try and hurt Scorchstreak again. Pinkpaw has taken to stomping around the perimeter of weird twoleg walls and sticking her nose into any nooks and crannies. If Bluefrost was lurking there, she'd scare her right out of her fur! If Sootspot was there, she'd smack him real hard. If Sootstar was there, she... she'd be the fastest cat in all the land so she can run and tell Scorchstreak and Brightshine and Everyone...

But none of them are there, and she's sleepy... Scorchstreak might be um... a dirty tunneler... but she's not so bad, and sometimes she had interesting things to say... When Pinkpaw hears her mumbling, she comes over to join the rest of the cats and sits beside Scorchstreak, all proper - like...

They're all talking about what Sootstar would do... Pinkpaw wants to think about what she would do. She shoulda gone to this gathering... " What's the gathering like? When Sootstar is nice? "

staring at the mirror gotta smile, smile 🌸🌷🦄🦩 don't be late, we got plans!

• 

• NOTE: SHE IS A FEVER COAT BABY!!
  

  

• ( IT'S TIME TO START A FUCKING RIOT, RIOT! ) PINKPAW APPRENTICE OF WINDCLAN. DAUGHTER TO BRIGHTSHINE & HEAVY SNOW. SISTER TO HEATHPAW, DOWNYPAW, & FINCHPAW.
  —— SHE / HER; UNOPPOSED TO THE USE OF OTHERS
  —— CURRENTLY 5 MOONS OLD. AGES EVERY 16TH
  
  A tiny, longhaired calico she - kit with suburst eyes ringed blue around her pupils (central heterochromia). While you can clearly see her flame markings on her face, the rest of her body is currently covered by a grey fever - coating. Though the whites of her are still very much visible. Pinkpaw bounces around WindClan without a care in the world! Her emotions are big, and she makes little effort to regulate them, resulting in both her usually cheerful disposition, as well as making her prone to sudden bouts of extreme anger or sadness. Rarely seen without a smile!
  

  HEAVY IC OPINIONS! Pinkpaw is a very irrational and childish character!​

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[REDHEART]

Having spent most of his morning fretting over his friend and the afternoon learning to hunt, the paw' was flat out exhausted. Eyelids heavy and back sore from the constant crouching, he idly rested against the strange walls of the barn. His head throbbed with the traumas of the past few days, and his heart felt heavy with absence. Do they even care about us anymore? The thought struck like lightning, burning him inside and out. A pained grimace marred his cream muzzle, and Scorchstreak's solemn musings pulled Redpaw back to the present.

Blinking at the she-cat, his head hung even lower at the thought. Sootstar had never cared for his hide since early kithood, but he never thought she would stoop so disgustingly low. Sniffing quietly to himself, Redpaw listened as the older cats lamented back and forth. If that soulless she-cat has any sense then she'll avoid the gathering like the plague. Pressing his head to the tree-scented frame and casting their green gaze to the floor as tears threatened to well. I hate it here. I hate that you betrayed me. Damn you. Many cat's names buzzed at their lips from the curses alone, but one feline in particular flashed in his thoughts.

Had he been more in his own head, the ruddy apprentice might have missed the hushed question. His back tensed at Scorchpaw's voice and it took everything in Redpaw not to sob. The mention of their name alone made his stomach twist with sickened grief. Breathing in shakily, the long-furred tom uprooted from their hunched position and stepped away from the crowd. Slipping past Pinkpaw's distraction and Scorchpaw's saddened pose the youth forces his face into cold stoicism. Just need some air. Nosing through the entrance and stepping out into the chilly night.

// in and out!​