Show me the way, brother [open, WindClanners]

What was he even doing here?

It does not feel right for Slate to be present, involved in the business of a clan he had stumbled upon only days ago. He pulled his weight by hunting and participating in patrols, albeit he felt like some sort of imposter while doing so. Slate was only here for his brother's sake, not because he had wanted a taste of clan life. Life here was different — not necessarily bad, but different. It was something that the tom was still unsure of; would he return to the slums and live off of sewage-soaked rats or would he remain here with Duskmane, a warrior of the forest?

The blustery, chilly winds hit Slate's features and attacked him with tiny ice particles that clung to his nose, whiskers, and facial hairs. Having been raised on the streets without a proper shelter to call home, Slate found himself slightly more accustomed to the cold than, say, a kittypet would. His long, thick coat was suited for this weather as well, though he was still freezing his ass off and hoped that this patrol would wrap up sooner than later.

Coming to a halt with the rest of the SkyClan patrol, Slate casts his gaze upward to sweep over that of the entire WindClan group. So, this is "WindClan", another group whose name has been thrown around in one of the "clan basics" lectures. They were not on friendly terms, from what Slate could remember, so he figured he'd just stand his ground and let the others handle this one.

His gaze dances around, assessing the strange cats, before landing directly on the scarred, red-ticked tabby tom among them. A moment passes by as his brain combs through memories and moments, trying to place a name to the face. Alas, he's encountered so many different individuals over the course of his lifetime, he cannot bring himself to remember everything. Slate knows for a fact that he's seen that tom before in the twolegplace; another rogue gone clan cat, eh? Had the streets grown too rough and tumble to live on?

His ears prick, half-listening to everything as he stares Speckleclaw down. Something about herbs, something about WindClanners being sick, something about SkyClan refusing to hand them over. Slate really did not have a grasp on the politics of these clans yet; as a rogue, it was all too much, too complicated. However, the dark-furred tom is quick to pick up on the energy building between the two patrols and felt tension well up in his shoulders. That was an awfully large patrol of cats; were their intentions to take what they wanted by force?

Slate stands, slowly assuming a battle-ready stance over the course of the exchange, the hairs along his spine prickling with anticipation. What the WindClanners commented and spat toward them did not particularly bother him, as he held no loyalty to any clan, though the young she-cat's mention of kittypets and rolling over for the likes of twolegs struck a certain nerve within Slate. It was as if he snapped out of a trance, his amber gaze now focusing on the dark tabby apprentice, pupils narrowing into black daggers. "Don't assume we're all pampered twoleg pets. That will be your downfall, kit." Icily states the scarred rogue in Firepaw's direction. She is young, rash, and naive with a lot to learn. SkyClan obviously has some sort of reputation as a kittypet haven, much to Slate's distaste, but not everyone was a kittypet or even a kittypet-supporter by default.

And, with that, Blazestar finally speaks his much-anticipated input on the matter. The "Kittypet King", they called him, and yet he did not cower in fear or back down from a challenge. A band of battle-hungry cats awaited him, foaming at the mouth like a pack of wolves lusting for a kill, and yet he spat back in the WindClan patrol leader's face without hesitation. Blazestar, even from the moment Slate had first met him, did not necessarily scream power or intimidation but admittedly... that was quite a bold move from the older male. Despite being a former kittypet, Blazestar possessed the grit of a wild cat and obviously stood his ground for the clan he led.

His flame-colored stare rested on the ragdoll tom, brow ever so slightly cocking. It was not easy to impress the intense, surly Slate, but today Blazestar had beat the odds.​

— * ✰. ooc information recent events * ✰. —
  • edit: slate is open for attacks (multiple opponents and interventions)! just note his size and skill level before engaging ^^

  • ✰ SLATE
    —— amab, uses he/him pronouns. twenty-nine moons old. warrior of skyclan; former rogue.
    —— unrefined, rough and tumble rogue who is not accustomed to clan life. only trustful of his littermate, duskmane.
    —— link to tags. @ on discord for plots.

    quite the hulk of a cat, slate stands above the average clanmate with an arrogant gait. he has a dark gray ( bordering on black ) colored pelt with a pale-brown-tinged underbelly and whisps of tan at the tips of his chest hairs. amber-colored eyes contrast against his dark palette. notable features include a jagged scar across his right eye and two small scratches across the bridge of his nose.


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The SkyClanners trickled onto the scene, one by one, and some engage with his Clanmates in a bit of verbal sparring before claws are unsheathed and blood is spilled. Others were silent. Everyone, however, seemed to understand the fact that this second refusal would not be well-received. Badgermoon ignored the words which were flung from Clan to Clan, cat to cat, tossed on the whipping winds of the blizzard: all of his attention was on the looming grayish dark of the forest, simply waiting. Waiting for him to appear. And then, there he was. Hollow-eyed, fox-voiced, surrounded by his faithful kittypet soldiers - one of them was even wearing a collar. He listened in silence to Blazestar's words: they were nothing different to what he had been expecting, another refusal, more cruelty. Slander about Sootstar, wishing death upon their entire Clan...it served to reinforce his sense of purpose, his feeling that the stars were shining brightly upon himself and his Clanmates.

The song singing in his blood reached its fever pitch and Badgermoon inclined his head to Blazestar. The black-and-white tom seemed almost to be trembling, as if from cold or fear; a closer look make it clear that he was shivering with the effort of holding something back. "As you wish death on us, so shall we bring death to you all. WindClan: forward!" then, finally - finally! finally! finally! - he let go, and with the inevitability of a crashing wave, he dove forward, claws outstretched, teeth flashing white in a sea of white. He felt utterly alive, alive in a way he never felt, alive in a way he never wanted to give up, and an involuntary scream of exhilaration was wrenched from him as he tore ahead, attempting to ram squarely into @orangeblossom ; if successful, he would try to close his jaws hard on the orange-and-white she-cat's throat, hot, hungry saliva dripping and freezing in moments as the blizzard roared and hostilities erupted: within, without, around, above.​
 

Oh, how she wanted to kill. To rend flesh between her claws, taste blood in her mouth. She flexed her claws and bore her teeth at the Skyclan cats, their words fueling the fire.

She let out a dark chuckle. Yes, go on.... Go on about how you want Windclan dead.

The feeling is mutual. The thrill of bloodshed called to her. To rip and shred, to hear that sickening yet sweet sound of her enemy's dying gasp.

When Badgermoon gave the order, her eyes lit up with excitement. She would waste no time. A shrill yowl rose from her throat as she lunged for @BLAZESTAR himself.

She aimed her right paw to come swinging down on his face, but!

It was a feint. Her left paw came swinging in to swipe at his throat.
​
 
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So much wasted breath and foolish words. Tigerfrost already knows what to expect from SkyClan's leader, nothing but bitter poison from the other cat's mouth. It spills like frost into the air with every exhale, and the blizzard seems to have seeped into the tabby chimera's heart, for his eyes only narrow with murderous reprisal. Blazestar would pay. They would all pay. The snow would soon be stained with hot blood.

Badgermoon's order snaps through the frosty air like ice. Tigerfrost wastes no time. His talons coil outward, his fur bristles and his eyes glow with hell-fire. With fangs bared and snapping, he throws himself toward the SkyClanners with little regard for his own safety, or theirs. A screech tears from his gnashing jaws as Tigerfrost leaps toward Thistleback, aiming to rake his claws down the other tom's face. It would be a brutal first blow if it succeeded, but Tigerfrost was never one for holding back. For the sickly back home, this fight was life or death.

@ThistleBack ​
 

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The wind wheezed against Chrysalispaw's feathery coat, as it pushed against his very frame, a howl that rang deep within the rime-dusted spirit. The morning stung in cruel resignation of its subjects, as the season had turned its back on the clans, leaving them with little to fend for and littler to pride themselves over. Chrysalispaw grumbled all the while, and yet a sense of duty kept each pawstep in front of each other, for he was a clan cat that must defend his home. Despite it all, he was here. In times like these, he would think that Starclan had denied them their graces - if he were a less pious man, at least. Still, he could not shake the solemn dirge that rumbled through his vessel. It was beyond the cold - it was anticipation, worry, dread.

He stopped next to his gathered peers, hanging at the back of the crowd, as if the conflict would simply pass over him as the waves did to the shore. Before he knew it, the battlefield exploded in a flurry of yowls and blades, as though the tides had turned in the blink of an eye, and his world had been thrown into an indiscernable chaos. The apprentice bounded through flayed limbs and thrashing bodies to find a target; feasibly, one that could match his own strength and prowess. He was arrogant, but he wasn't an idiot. Anyone larger than him would be a tough opponent, he wagered. His heart thrummed in his chest, the melody of a sea of blood and adrenaline, held together by the makeshift sky of flesh and bone. He felt like he was going to burst, but he willed himself to press onwards.

( 8 Moons / Medium Difficulty / Open to 1 person, please @ to attack )
​

 
They're all absolutely out of their minds. Giving the order to attack in a blizzard like this is tantamount to wanting all of their patrol to die, and Orangeblossom can't help but assume that WindClan's little patrol leader, name still unknown, knows that. She swings sideways as the bicolour tom gives the order to attack. The snow seems to kick up in intensity as the battle begins, an unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensation of adrenaline coursing through her as WindClan advances. Around her, the first yowls and screeches of combat erupt ... yet instead of going for Blazestar, Badgermoon attacks her instead. A coward, then, just like his leader.

She takes the first hit from Badgermoon square in the shoulder, twisting so that jaws snap at the thick fur there rather than in her throat, but she can still feel the scrape of teeth through her pelt. His momentum forces them both sideways and SkyClan's deputy falls into the snow, hoping to hook her claws in his pelt wherever she could find purchase to throw his balance off and bring him crashing down beside her.
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✦ ooc ✦ info
  • @Badgermoon

  • ✦ orangeblossom, deputy of skyclan
    — no apprentice.
    ✦ 25 moons, she/her
    ✦ fluffy white and ginger cat with brown eyes. torn left ear, scar on right foreleg.
    ✦ bi, single. @ on discord for plots.
    ✦ "speech" — thoughts

​
 
He regretted speaking, at first. Uncertain silence followed the final syllable, as with the other Windclanners' lack of words. Brief panic swept through him like a wave. Had he spoken out of turn? He hoped not. His mismatched eyes glanced downward at Firepaw, noting that her bluntness was worse than his. The leader, so unlovingly dubbed the kittypet king, showed his face ― and yet, Speckleclaw's attention was instead drawn to the hulking figure that appeared behind him. A familiar face among the sea of strangers, but where...? His face scrunched briefly, trying to identify how he recognized the other cat. He hadn't been around for Gin and that entire fiasco, so he was probably from an even deeper memory than that. An acquaintance, not one he once fought with before. That would change today.

Badgermoon struck first, yowling for the rest of the bristling patrol to let loose. Where he remembered the other rogue struck him at the same moment; a few coincidental passings in the city alleyways, never speaking to each other for long. While he didn't quite remember his name, there was enough of an impact to remember at all through all of the memories sent down the drain. Speckleclaw still jolted into movement despite his revelation, lunging over the border and less-than-coincidentally toward Slate. "Long time no see," he casually hummed out, in direct contrast to his raised paw outstretching claws in an attempt to slash at the taller rogue's face.

@SLATE just guys being dudes​
 
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Blazestar blinks owlishly at Badgermoon's call to war. He had been anticipating something, though he doesn't know if he'd really expected WindClan to wage war with them during the snowstorm. His hackles raise, fur fluffed up to enormous proportions against the wind and the battle cries that rise around him.

He had missed the Great Battle, had arrived after Rain had died, after so many had -- and when he unsheathes his claws, it feels strange. Blazestar sees the seal point she-cat approach him, swift and assured, and he braces himself for the first battle of his life.

Her right paw aims for his face, and it's a quick blow that causes him to flinch and attempt to back away, stumbling in the snowbank. Before he can raise his own claws to her, her left paw shoots out and rakes across the soft flesh of his throat.

He snarls in surprise. Scarlet splashes the snow around them, and although the wound stings in the wind, this wound is nothing compared to the fox's grip on his throat moons before.

This was not a killing blow, perhaps saved by his backwards stumbling.

Blazestar, for the first time in his life, raises his enormous left paw in an attempt to rake it across the she-cat's right ear. It's not an exact blow, nor is it swift, but if it strikes her anywhere on her body, it would be powerful, with all of his weight behind it.​
 

Spiderbloom was quick to dodge Blazestars blow. She quickly drew her head back, feeling his paw swing by her face. A hefty blow, that was.

She shivered in excitement. He wasn't as weak as everyone made him out to be!

Perfect.

It was time to retaliate. She crouched onto her hind legs and with a mighty spring, she lunged for him in an attempt to bowl him over with her claws dug into him.

@BLAZESTAR
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His ginger-splashed opponent's weight gave away under the force of his forward leap even as she evaded his snapping teeth, and Badgermoon spat out a clump of her thick fur with a hiss of disgust. The taste of a kittypet lover! Before he had a chance to right himself and strike again, he felt Orangeblossom's claws sink into his pelt just above one of his broad shoulders, dragging him down to crash-land in the snow next to her. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs and he gave a wheeze that was carried away by the wind, before rolling to one side and pushing himself upright; he would attempt to slash hard and deep across the right side of SkyClan deputy's muzzle, using the momentum of his rising to his feet to his advantage. If successful, he'd take a moment to strengthen his stance and regain his breath, shaking snow out of his face. His white-tipped ears were flat against his head, his chest was heaving, and he was already scratched where she had latched onto him - but still he felt that savage joy, the defiant glee that made his whole body, right down to the marrow, sing out.

@orangeblossom​
 
❝Shaddup I'll be your downfall❞ Firepaw's lame retort would fire back at the warrior who took her bait like a hungry fool. It's not much longer until the Kittypet-King arrives making his declarations clear, they chose their fate took a steaming dump on any thought of peace and they'd get their just reward for it. Her tail lashes behind her, hackles raising as she waits for Badgermoon to give the call. A chuckle croons from her, as amused as it was nervous, she crouches lower feeling the wind brisk on her pelt and she wonders if they held Starclans favor at this moment. Too her it was obvious; they'd get what they came for and stain the snow red with Skyclan blood. Finally her deputies voice rings true and she joins it with a caterwaul

❝FOR WINDCLAN!❞

She'd make Sootstar proud, make her mother proud, make them all proud. She bursts into action all the stored tension in her body releasing springing her forward into the fray, her howl carrying out. The two clans clash and she seeks her opponent her claws extended as she runs itching for use. She finds a target soon off, a Tom not much younger then her and whilst she would prefer to seek out more valued opponents those she sought out were already twisted in combat with one of her clanmates, she can barely make out Badgermoon's form in the clash made faint by the blowing wind and snow and tangled bodies - she can see too Blazestar and Spiderbloom and one day she knows she would have her chance to get a slash at him. Just not today.
She can feel the wind behind her pushing her forward as she leaps at @CHRYSALISPAW attempting to jump onto his back, if she was successful her claws would rake against his sides.

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( PLACE ME IN MY CASKET TONIGHT ; BECAUSE IM ALREADY DYING INSIDE )
 
Ora uses her momentum to roll her way back up to her paws but her positioning is off and she can't get out of the way of Badgermoon's claws quick enough. They rake down her muzzle, scoring deep lines of red in the white fur, and when he disengages to catch his breath she does the same. All Orangeblossom can taste is blood. She sees crimson drip onto the snow - still for a heartbeat with the awareness that yes, that's her blood - and tests the ragged spaces on her muzzle where they line up with her maw. Not for the first time in her life, the deputy thanks her lucky stars she's not squeamish like her sister. When she fixes Badgermoon with brown eyes once again, her stare is intense. Frenzied. She breathes heavily, a hoarse sort of purr scratching its way into the air:

"C'mere so I can give you a matching one."

She still doesn't know her opponent's name, and doesn't care at this point as she springs forward again, darting to the left just before impact and rearing upwards to try and score a bloodied bite somewhere between the ear and the nape of his neck.

// @Badgermoon && mobile sobs​
 
TAGS — Of course. Of course it wouldn't be long before all hell broke loose. They don't have to wait for long before Blazestar shows his face; spits his chill. Sootstar's orders echo in his head: If this plan fails or anyone is caught, we fight and we fight with the intent to kill. Badgermoon had echoed that sentiment before the patrol had even headed out, but Smokepaw had been reluctant to embrace it- but now that the fighting has erupted around him, he can't keep ignoring it, can he? His gaze slides sidelong to Firepaw as she bursts into action, immediately going after a SkyClan apprentice. Well. If she can do it, so can he- and he'll do it better, too. Sootstar was trusting him to be capable, and so was Ravencry; so was all of WindClan, especially those sick in the badger set. He can't lose. He can't lose. "For WindClan," the young tunneler murmurs to himself, amber gaze steeling as it falls upon an opponent.

He's not large, but he can use that to his advantage if he's swift enough. Sootstar had taught him as much, anyway- so he scopes out @Snowpaw , and aims to dart silently past him, hoping to rake his claws down the SkyClanner's side as he passes.​
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It had begun.

WindClan's patrol had decided not to argue back and forth any longer and instead spring into action. The rogue, poised for confrontation, watched as cats around him flung themselves at one another. He had always fought by himself and for himself; fighting alongside throngs of felines wasn't something he was used to. He almost was tempted to take another glance at the chaos unfurling before him, but he couldn't be caught standing amidst the battle like a sitting duck.

"Long time no see," His gaze whipped up, a very vaguely familiar voice making itself known. Slate silently acknowledged Speckleclaw's "greeting", realization settling in. I knew it. He had recognized him from somewhere, and that somewhere was from the city! Of course, the streets had been overrun with strays. With the clans being in such close proximity to the city's edge, it was no wonder that some of the city-dwellers had found their way into the ranks of the forest cats. First Silversmoke and now... this guy? Slate doesn't even know his name. He had remembered him being a remarkably scrawny little bastard, though, and that hadn't seemed to change.
Once two lonesome strays aimlessly wandering the dirty concrete, they were now warriors who belonged two their respective clans. Still, it didn't seem as though the tom was going straight for his jugular. He'd entertain some light banter... until he grew impatient.

Having anticipated a swipe, seeing as Speckleclaw lunged right toward him, the dark-furred rogue jumped backward and barely missed the graze of claws against his muzzle. "The city get too boring for ya'?" Slate huffed afterward, simply an attempt to momentarily pacify his opponent as he surveyed his physical features — small, yet thin and likely able to make quick and sudden movements. He needed to get him on the ground.

Acting quickly, the burly brute lunged forward and would try to dig his claws into Speckleclaw's shoulders. If successful, Slate would pull him down onto the ground and scramble to pin him.

​

— * ✰. ooc information recent events * ✰. —
  • @speckleclaw.

  • ✰ SLATE
    —— amab, uses he/him pronouns. twenty-nine moons old. warrior of skyclan; former rogue.
    —— unrefined, rough and tumble rogue who is not accustomed to clan life. only trustful of his littermate, duskmane.
    —— link to tags. @ on discord for plots.

    quite the hulk of a cat, slate stands above the average clanmate with an arrogant gait. he has a dark gray ( bordering on black ) colored pelt with a pale-brown-tinged underbelly and whisps of tan at the tips of his chest hairs. amber-colored eyes contrast against his dark palette. notable features include a jagged scar across his right eye and two small scratches across the bridge of his nose.


​
 
"every last one of you can die for serving a murderer."

her muscles would tense immediately in response to the cruel words spoken by the hefty ragdoll himself who merely looked upon them with an unforgiving expression and a smile that only emphasized how little he cared for their sick clanmates, for windclan as a whole. a sense of vehement disgust rolled over her like a wave, skyclan was practically sentencing them to death and there was no doubt in her mind that they'd watch them fall to their demise with glee.

wasn't long until badgermoon's voice cuts through the wailing winds as he commands them to let loose and it was almost in an instance that cats from both sides launched themselves into the fray with outstretched claws. golden hues were quick to scan the mass for an opponent but the storm made it difficult to make out the bodies as they were being obscured by wild flurries but eventually she'd catch sight someone who is standing alone and wasted no time in engaging.

shrewtuft immediately darts for @Daisyflight and like a taut spring ready to pop, she pushes herself off snowy grounds to leap over the calico. the young sepia warrior would then rear around in attempts snap her jaws around a plumed tail, if successful she'd yank as hard as she could to throw the lead warrior off balance.
[ THE HUNTER'S MOON IS SHINING ]​
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A bratty child snarks back, but like his claws wouldn't touch a child. Nor would his attention be paid. He was seething from the audacity of the adults warping their children into thieving hounds. Sparing the rod, spoiling the child.

Would it matter? One of them asks. Thistleback falls into a silence, planted like a gargoyle as he waits.

Thistleback's eyes shift to Blazestar, words brandishing the devil-dog's wicked smirk. Oh dear, our beloved leader had a darker side. The cogs churn in the piebald's mind, and it's decided- Blazestar's reign was the key script of Skyclan's victory paved destiny, long live this kittypet king. The call for battle earns not his surprise, of course these thick-headed gits would travel all the way through a blizzard to wage a war. They were ambitious sure, but moronic all the same. " she sent children to war in a blizzard. " Thistleback murmured to himself as the lines broke, as the yowls rip the frozen air.

Tail whipping to and fro with agitation, hackles making his nettle fur stick up sharp. His eyes connect with a shape moving toward him quickly. A feral gurgle of a humorless laugh rips from his throat as the white-patched tabby barrels for him. Anticipation ripples in the muscle over his ribs, the flare of his nostrils over a crinkled maw of twisted snarl. 'yes.. yes … come here. Come get the kittypet ' the man whom never was such a thing thinks, moments before a massive swing whisks toward him, carrying a mighty splay of nails.

Thistleback slew backwards with a quick tilt on his hocks, claw tips trace the air by his face. Mismatched arms reach lethally toward him, but miss their mark. Using the pivot of the moorlander's swing, Thistleback surges his jaws toward the warrior's elbow. Aiming to sink his grime wedged teeth down and yank the warrior up with a staggering buck from powerful hindlegs.

The violent shadows of white around them, veil the caterwauls of war and blood. This was no skirmish, each cat was sniffing for the other's jugular for sure. There would be death tonight, Thistleback had no qualm being the reaper.

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OOC INFO REF
  • — DICE ROLLING IN DISCORD w. @TIGERFROST
    1/2 hit
    3/4 miss
    ( roll 1 for tiger - 3 miss )
  • MqZ0nzd.png
    ✧ T H I S T L E B A C K
    thirty-three moons
    — Lead warrior of Skyclan
    — taken by
    Deersong 9.29.22
    — mentoring quillpaw
    — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
    — voice & accent
    — biography･ﾟ✧​
  • bVBPWus.png
​
 
Tags and Information
Talons stretch and coil, but meet only the chill of empty winter's breath. His opponent had lurched suddenly backwards, a mere hare-whisker away, but discipline and reflex had spared the SkyClanner a bloodied nose. Fury sweeps through Tigerfrost's eyes, but the fangs that snap toward his elbow are seen before they can burrow into flesh. He jerks his forearm away from the fangs as Thistleback's maw reaches forth, and without a rat's heartbeat worth of hesitation, the WindClanner's second forepaw is sent sailing through the frost, talons angled upward as the brute aimed to slash his feline blades up the side of Thistleback's reaching jaws and cheek. With both his front limbs in play, he balanced in the snow upon his sturdy back paws, long tail aiding his balance as Tigerfrost let out a vicious snarl.

"This did not need to happen." A wintry growl, hard like ice covered stone. "As your clan grows fat from kibble, our clan-mates die from disease. Was Coyotepaw not one of you before? How quickly your kind are to abandon him as he lays dying in our medicine den." A cruel lie, spoken with such a bold mask of truthfulness. Tigerfrost had been there when Coyotepaw had been returned to WindClan's camp. He knew the apprentice was a former SkyClanner, and though Tigerfrost was unaware of familial bonds between Thistleback and Coyotepaw, it did not matter. The chimera would not miss his chance at cruelty. SkyClan deserved their suffering, just as they had condemned WindClan to theirs.

@ThistleBack​
 
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Scrawny and wiry as he was, his combat reflexes were as rusty as the shade of his piebald fur, embarrassingly enough. Once able to ferociously fend off coyotes, at the cost of a scar on his hip, but now? He couldn't even land the first hit. A hiss of annoyance, only for a heartbeat. His paw swiped at the empty air, though he swore he at least brushed past whiskers. From the corner of his eye, he could see Shrewtuft starting to engage. He hoped she could stand her own, he didn't want to see her too injured or worse ― no, focus. In his moment of distraction, Slate seized him by the shoulders, raking through dappled fur as suddenly his world was inverted. One second standing in the snow, the next pinned in it. But surprisingly enough, the other rogue returned his conversation. Mismatched eyes glinted with confused humor, despite the caterwauling surrounding the two. They both weren't truly loyal, right? Just in it for the food and shelter, like any other scheming rogue worth their salt.

Speckleclaw twisted his head, despite the stinging pain in his shoulders, teeth on full display. "Nah," he found himself answering despite his position beneath the Skyclanner's weight. "For you?" Focusing most of his strength, he moved to kick upward at the other's soft belly, front claws adding to the shove by scratching at his chest. If he could, he'd scrabble out from beneath Slate, rounding on him for the anticipated counter. He could play defense for a bit, sure. Whiskers anxiously twitched at the scent of blood in the air already, but Speckleclaw tagged on, "Gotta admit, this wouldn't be my first choice to stay."

@SLATE​
 

☁ The final decision is made and Blazestar makes it clear that WindClan will not be helped. Sharpeye agrees whole-heartedly, the scum from the moors can perish. In an instant his hackles raise and he braces himself for the violence to come, he can see it in their eyes that they desire only bloodshed, never mind waiting for Badgermoon's command to come. But the call comes and war explodes all around him. Thus far Sharpeye had eluded becoming a target and he fully intended to make use of that fact. Knowing his own strengths and weaknesses he assessed that getting stuck into an one-on-one fight wouldn't do him much favour, he would be best suited to helping his clanmates and making sure they made it home alive.

Naturally his attention swept towards that of Blazestar, concern aglow in his eyes. Loyalty to that of his leader and to his friend drove him to move and he made a charge towards Spiderbloom. He saw her leap for Blazestar so he attempted to pounce at her, aiming for where she would land with the intentions of sinking his teeth into one of her hind legs. He wanted to leave her weakened on her feet with the hopes of making things easier for his leader.

//Attacking @Spiderbloom
Attempting to help @BLAZESTAR
Open to being attacked by others
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"FOR WINDCLAN!"

A siren of a caterwaul rang upon the clashes of blades and bodies, as though the raucous knell of looming war, the cry of animalistic desperation. It was unlike anything he had heard before, and the lullaby of Skyclan's call-to-arms did little to quell what dread fluttered in butterfly-winged heart. Chrysalispaw then saw a flash of a coal-black flurry, as if the molly had been crafted of the same brimstone and hellfire coat that he was, and yet no rapport could be found within his enemy. Firepaw leapt upon his back, in an agile motion that had taken advantage of Chrys' moment of distraction. Her claws razed at his sides, stabbing like the icy winter around him, though drawing out his fire instead of merely lapping at it. Like the season itself, there was no heat on the battlefield, despite the presence of flesh flayed and blood drawn. The bleak gazes of both his peers and his enemies could not be melted by any flame. The call of conflict compelled all, even those that would have found themselves friends upon better times. Not that he would be friends with any Windclanner.

"Get off me, you dumb Wind-rat!" He screeched, and a tone of tranquil water then revealed its depths, as an impetuous scream rather than a confident claim. With all his strength, he aimed to roll his entire body onto the ground, attempting to crush the Windclanner underneath their similar weight - or, at least, get her off of him.

( Attacking @Firepaw )
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