sensitive topics THE STARS WILL BE YOUR EYES [🗡️] battle


♱—— The two cats' fighting is immediately feral, primitive even; unbeknownst to the tunneler, Slate is an ex-rogue, unafraid of bloody brutality. She herself lacks inhibition, lacks the morals necessary to keep her claws and teeth from seeking to maul and maim and twist and bite. Their gnashing fangs find sweet purchase and they're rewarded by a burst of salty blood upon their tongue as their teeth pierce the huge cat's flesh. The joy of it is momentary and before they know it she's being yanked around like a pesky flea; the world spins and suddenly the air is crushed from their lungs by the cat's rolling bulk. Their own blood rises in their throat and her ribs pang with a dull ache of warning but a mad visceral drive won't let them surrender this soon.

She had promised to snap the wings of the bird-beasts and twist their croaking necks; she would make good on that vow whatever it took. Regardless of whether the beasts were now recruiting monstrous things indeed (the irony of this compared with her own Clanmates is utterly lost on her), she would succeed and a fresh hunger brings that crazed spark back to her gaze. This somehow private battle is wordless so far, none of the spat taunts or twisting nicknames the others perhaps hold. Cygnetstare only emits a low and chilling hiss with the breath they can gasp in, floating on the greenleaf night air like the whispers of the damned, diseased gutpaint eyes fixed with an almost serene singlemindedness on the form crushing them now.

Aided by disturbingly oily fur, the chimera attempts to wriggle out like a snake from where the lead warrior has pinned them. Should they be successful, they'd weave two fast circles about the larger cat in an attempt to confuse him before pushing off the ground and launching themself at him again. They would miss the tender throat they were aiming for, instead lodging their fangs at the junction of his chest and shoulder while they tear at his upper back with viciously aimed forepaws, greasy form bent around his upper body like a disgusting eel. Pain reverbates harder through their recently-crushed chest, but they refuse to give in to it. None of the batting paws of the idiots around them, they think; this is war, even if Sootstar hasn't declared it so.


  • ooc: @SLATE
  • 6Uj5HPz.png
  • ♱ cygnetstare — for their downy kitten-fur and perceptiveness (or uncanny gaze)
    she/they ; afab gender apathetic — windclan — tunneler — 16 ☾s
    —— cygnetstare is a corpselike chimera, split between long albino fur and a short black smoke pelt; their eyes are an unsettling pink. her creepy demeanour distracts from a strange fascination with death and an obsessive loyalty to windclan.
    —— smells like grave-dirt and blood ; sounds like vc tbd ; speech in #BF959C, thoughts in #000000
    —— peaceful / healing powerplay permitted ; attacks/contact in underline ; will start fights ; won't flee unless ordered ; won't show mercy ; will kill or maim
    —— pansexual panromantic monogamist, single, not looking ; open to friendships, enemies, casual interactions, long-term romance, plotting ; not open to unplanned battles, flings
    penned by dejavudesklamp9 on discord for plots
  • CYGNETSTARE's BATTLE INFO ——♱

    YES: injuries, scarring
    ASK: maiming, permanent injuries
    NO: killing
    — Small and skinny, hiding sinewy muscle in forelegs and chest from digging. Skilled offensive fighter but limited by size, defense is basically nonexistent; snakelike agility fighter, faster than she looks and slippery. Will try to climb on and move around larger opponents to inflict damage. Extremely brutal despite her size and will always aim to inflict maximum damage; lacks honor and will fight dirty. Battle moves often damage herself as much as her opponent.

    — Will fight to kill and maim. Will start fights. Will not run unless ordered to. Will aim to kill and maim cats regardless of age or rank, including young cats.

    — Her battles will be written very aggressively and she will always aim to kill or seriously injure opponents; this does not mean her hits have to land! I don't mind your character dodging hits; feel free to contact me on-site or on Discord to work out specifics if needed. Will have a harder time against larger cats but keep in mind she is written as a good offensive fighter who aims to kill and/or seriously hurt. I'm not open to her being killed but am willing to discuss maimings (please ask me first though).

    — Their defensive fighting skills are borderline nonexistent. All hits will land except attempts at killing or maiming that haven't been prediscussed. I don't roll for attacks or defense but try to write battles realistically.
    current health info:
    physical health:
    75%
    ↳ current injuries: bruised chest & shoulder, bruised ribs

 

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SOOTSTAR
The air is knocked from her lungs as a brutal force exerts itself onto her back. Her spine bends before the entirety of her body collapses to the ground. Shock convulses her body as fangs sink into her scruff and a forest fire burns in her gaze. A million thoughts race through her mind. How? How did they know?! and I'm going to die here being among them.

An ear-piercing yowl rushes from her lungs as she squirms and wiggles in the grasp of the large tom. Her head jerks and thrashes in hopes of releasing his grip on her scruff, even if it meant he took flesh and fur with him. If his grip lessens she aims to flip onto her back and with all the force she can muster, kick out her rear legs onto Blazestar's chest, legs, face or belly.

// attacking @BLAZESTAR
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I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I WANT AND WHO I WANNA BE
sootspritespark | 37 months | demi-girl | she/they | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #ffff99
When her attack hits, the woman is met with startle and surprise - good, windclan had wanted to hunt them in their beds, it's about time they feared skyclan instead. The toms voice sounds frantic to her ears, but she lets him slip loose easily - more in caution of her own body than out of consideration, and its not as though she really wants to be here - not knowing what she knows now. She wants him as far from beneath her as possible. Her 'kindness' costs her however - she feels teeth sink into her dark curls and the flesh beneath in only a matter of moments, wrenching a pained gasp from her throat.. "You dung-for-brains coward! " she snarls, yanking her shoulder out of his grasp to spin around to face him head on, tail lashing angrily.

"Do you always come sneaking into cats homes like foxes in the night, hiding and cowering in the shadows, or is today a special occasion," she taunts haughtily, collar bouncing as she speaks, darting forwards to raise one paw in a forceful swipe as she attempts to drag sharp claws across the windclanners jaw and shoulder. An eye for an eye - a shoulder for a shoulder.

// @RATTLEHEART

 
❪ TAGS ❫Ugh, she stunk worse than the alley rats he used to sleep amongst — and that was truly saying something. Her slicked appearance seemed to match her foul foreign odor; slimy and slippery like a snake, she was. All of them were snakes, attempting to raid SkyClan's camp in the dead of night.

Damn! They had now bitten him in a second spot along his neck, drawing scarlet ichor through fangs that were nearly reptilian in nature. The pain stuns the great warrior if only for a moment, his focus darting between the puncture on the strait of his neck and the daggers raking down his back. Slate parted his jaws into a yowl, hoping that an adrenaline boost could prevent him from succumbing to the stinging waves rippling over his body.

Enraged, patience in the negatives, Slate flopped down onto his side and attempted to wedge his great paw in between his skin and their teeth in a forceful act of prying them off. If successful, the burly Maine Coon would reach both of his arms back, claws hopefully finding purchase onto his opponent, before mustering enough strength to shove away and separate from their eel-esque entrapment.


Fresh and sticky blood stained his heaving chest, a dull ache now radiating from the sites where the moor cat tore his skin. Much to his dismay, Slate felt his stamina reserves begin to drain. The tom had to do some real damage to this Dirtplace mite before she bested him.

He lunges like a maddened dog from his position, aiming to trap the smaller warrior under his paws. For the first time during their silent brawl, Slate spits in the WindClanner's face, "You'll pay for this, worthless maggot." No time is wasted before he snaps his neck down with an intent to bury his pearly whites into Cygnetstare's throat and thrash.

// @cygnetstare
 
Angry at all the things I can't change
Green eyes grow a fraction wider as he misses his mark and he watches his target roll to evade him. Faster, he needed to strike faster. Before he could follow up with a dodge of his own strong legs pummel against his ribs, knocking him abruptly onto his side. Air rushes swiftly from his lungs, expelled in a harsh grunt as he grits his teeth. She scrambles to her paws and he does the same, mirroring her as he stands opposite of the blue tabby, He has but a moment to steady his breathing again as she openly mocks him. Spitting something about becoming a hero to siblings he never knew he had. A scoff falls from his maw, disgusted as she tries to paint herself as some holier than thou saint as if she were not the one invading his home in the dead of night. "Do as you wish." There was nothing left for him there, there never was. Going back to windclan all those moons ago was a mistake he regrets every day. The cream colored tom allows his tail to lash behind him, holding her stare with glacial frost. "I'm sure it will be full of lies. It's what windclan does best, anyway." Coyotecrest hisses and moves to close the distance between them. Rearing up on his hind legs he strikes out with both forearms, claws seeking to tear the flesh of her shoulders, neck, or face in the process. @Bluepool
When you're lost in the universe don't lose faith
 



Her opponent scrambles quickly to his feet and she watches with cold yellow eyes. To his comments she only laughs. "At least I am not a coward and a turn-tail" is all she says in return, her half-tail flicking furiously as she awaits his next move. When he makes it, she lets him. If he wanted to come to her who was she to stop him? He rears up on his hind legs, a mistake if you ask her. What was SkyClan teaching their warriors? How was one to balance when two of their feet were not planted firmly on the ground.

She would allow claws to meet her flesh, only a soft grunt escaping her jaws to signal that she feels any pain at all, blood beads from the wounds but she ignores the metallic smell and surges forwards, aiming for the throat with her teeth bared in a ferocious snarl. If she missed that would be fine, she still throws all her weight into the maneuver, aiming to use her opponents faltering balance to drive him off his paws and send him backwards so that she may gain the upper hand and pin him. She would be satisfied if her teeth just met flesh, however.

// @Coyotecrest

 
જ➶ He may not be the best warrior but he will not back down. He will make sure that Windclan fears Skyclan and will never threaten their lives again. It is not their fault that they sentence their own to flee. That they treat others like dirt and think it never to come back on them. He tries his best to keep his grip firm on the woman as she bucks and thrashes, jaws tense as he catches too late when she snaps jaws arouns his paws. Claws flared out already he can't retract them because of how she is bitting down on his paw. He is going to lose them. So be it. His jaws are set as he has to fall from the Windclanner's back and at the same time pain flairs to life in his paw. Sharp and agonizing as three claws are torn from him. He hisses out his pain, never having felt this type before. It is different and more demanding. Sharp. Distracting and he finds himself looking down at his bloodied paw. Pulse after pulse of pain sends blood onto the ground and yet he is moving. Aiming to use his other paw, claws extended to slam them against @GHOSTWAIL face, attempting to slide down her cheek and maw. He can not stop because of pain. It means nothing in the face of what can happen if they get to camp.

His hackles raise as he lashes his tail and despite the bloodied look sausage of a paw he aims to leap forward and bowl the other over, jaws snapping to try and dig teeth into an ear or even face to try and tear the flesh and make blood flow.
 

♱—— Bruises throb across her body from the way this large cat has been tossing her about like a kitten toy, but Cygnetstare hangs steadfastly on, teeth burrowing into his neck and claws raking whatever flesh she can find. Disgusting creatures, she thinks faintly, disgusting creature specifically. A big brute of a thing that thrashes and yowls under her serpentinely twining grip, jaws parted in a cry of rage and pain; they get the vague impression the huge monstrous thing they battle had not expected such a fight. They're not too surprised—tunnelers are perptually underestimated after all, and her tiny, skeletal frame does not exactly make for an imposing opponent.

While they've been focusing on dealing damage and keeping their hold on the giant beast, she had neglected to keep an eye on defending herself. Her vision whirls again as the SkyClanner's massive frame slams to the side, a huge paw prying her teeth away. Large claws find their mark, shredding tender flesh under thin fur and pulling another hiss from the chimera, prying her from how her skinny frame traps the cat and shoving her away. The force of the shove knocks the breath from her and Cygnetstare cannot wriggle away as the blood-spattered warrior traps her beneath huge paws—no amount of hissing and flailing frees her. Suddenly she's belatedly aware of an angry hiss in her face and the cat's bared teeth diving down.

Suddenly she is unable to return the insult. Pain shreds through her soft throat like wildfire, the cat's dark head swinging back and forth, brutish, doggish, rattling her small frame like a ragdoll as a dark tear widens in the tunneler's neck. Iron rises thick and overpowering in her mouth, wheezing through blood and crushing jaws as Cygnetstare thrashes beneath the cat's hold. Oh, pain, pain unimaginable—her vision is blurry and darkened around the edges as the cat digs his fangs in deeper. Faintly she's aware of a brutish animal urge to get it off get it off get it off before it kills you, and she heeds it.

Impossibly, blood spurting in crimson gouts from the jagged hole tearing wider into her throat, the crescent-moon warrior fights back with a frenzy known only to the desperate, the mad, or both. Cygnetstare's pale head pushes forward, a fresh jet of blood washing over pure white fur from the force, attempting to knock her head against the cat's head buried in her neck with a force that has her seeing stars. At the same time, her hind legs will attempt to bury their claws into the SkyClanner's tender stomach, the tunneler thrashing like a caged animal as she does so. Blood rises nauseous in her gaping throat and she can only hope the idiot beast leaves her for dead.


  • ooc: @SLATE
  • ♱ cygnetstare — for their downy kitten-fur and perceptiveness (or uncanny gaze)
    she/they ; afab gender apathetic — windclan — tunneler — 16 ☾s
    —— cygnetstare is a corpselike chimera, split between long albino fur and a short black smoke pelt; their eyes are an unsettling pink. her creepy demeanour distracts from a strange fascination with death and an obsessive loyalty to windclan.
    —— smells like grave-dirt and blood ; sounds like vc tbd ; speech in #BF959C, thoughts in #000000
    —— peaceful / healing powerplay permitted ; attacks/contact in underline ; will start fights ; won't flee unless ordered ; won't show mercy ; will kill or maim
    —— pansexual panromantic monogamist, single, not looking ; open to friendships, enemies, casual interactions, long-term romance, plotting ; not open to unplanned battles, flings
    penned by dejavudesklamp9 on discord for plots
  • CYGNETSTARE's BATTLE INFO ——♱

    YES: injuries, scarring
    ASK: maiming, permanent injuries
    NO: killing
    — Small and skinny, hiding sinewy muscle in forelegs and chest from digging. Skilled offensive fighter but limited by size, defense is basically nonexistent; snakelike agility fighter, faster than she looks and slippery. Will try to climb on and move around larger opponents to inflict damage. Extremely brutal despite her size and will always aim to inflict maximum damage; lacks honor and will fight dirty. Battle moves often damage herself as much as her opponent.

    — Will fight to kill and maim. Will start fights. Will not run unless ordered to. Will aim to kill and maim cats regardless of age or rank, including young cats.

    — Her battles will be written very aggressively and she will always aim to kill or seriously injure opponents; this does not mean her hits have to land! I don't mind your character dodging hits; feel free to contact me on-site or on Discord to work out specifics if needed. Will have a harder time against larger cats but keep in mind she is written as a good offensive fighter who aims to kill and/or seriously hurt. I'm not open to her being killed but am willing to discuss maimings (please ask me first though).

    — Their defensive fighting skills are borderline nonexistent. All hits will land except attempts at killing or maiming that haven't been prediscussed. I don't roll for attacks or defense but try to write battles realistically.
    current health info:
    physical health:
    35%
    ↳ current injuries: bruised chest & shoulder, bruised ribs, claw marks on torso, very severe but nonfatal throat wound

 
Satisfyingly, Sootstar shrieks and thrashes beneath his grip. He holds tight, but her tiny size lets her slip from his claws. Tufts of fur and blood wedge themselves in his paw pads. He is not quick enough to dodge her blow—still just beneath him, her hind legs shoot out into his chest and send him staggering backward. His ribs ache, bruise blossoming behind thick cream-colored fur.

An enormous golden paw sweeps toward her, aiming to claw her across her chest and throat. He is exchanging deadly blows like he never has before. The cat before him is a demon to be destroyed, a terror to be driven away from his Clan once and for all.

// @SOOTSTAR

  •  
  • blaise . blazestar
    — he/him ; leader of skyclan
    — pansexual ; divorced ; single
    — longhaired flame point Ragdoll with blue eyes
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — penned by Marquette
    — chibi by Mercibun
 
It is sick the way that the phantom revels in the pain inflicted upon her, devilish joy overriding her snarl as her skin is flayed from cheek to gums. Copper hits her tongue, the familiar tang of sweet rot overtaking her. While borne among slime and darkness, it was clear now that the phantom of WindClan was tailored for bloodshed, and there was no discrimination between who the target of her bloodlust could be and her own self-immolation.

Her opponent moves to strike again, looking to pin, to capture, but their strike is sloppy and they get her front, tongue and teeth facing her own crocodilian maw. Jaws click into dingy cheek-fur as the two roll, the phantom propelling their combined weight to twist into something assimilating a dominating position - in control. Her opponent snaps again, this time grabbing flesh below her ear. She grits her teeth together as blood fills her mouth again and moves, looking to lock her claws around her assailant's neck and squeeze, hoping to rend fur and flesh as she pulls her paws back towards her body.
@BRAMBLEHEART
- you call for peace when it suits you
 

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SOOTSTAR
[tw] blood descriptors

Sootstar jumps to her paws upon successfully knocking the tom off of her. With a growl she charges forward right into his swift blow, his claws pierce her chest, already tender with scars, before traveling to her neck. Blood spurts and she lets out a yowl of agony, yet the WindClan leader had not deterred from the attack.

Her back purposefully collides with the earth, she sends herself flying underneath Blazestar's she rakes his soft belly mercilessly with her thorn-sharp claws. Once out from underneath him she feels her own blood continue to trickle from her wounds, but Blazestar's own now covers her face. Leaping to her paws she darts fox-lengths away before spinning around to look for another opening, ignoring the amount of scarlet that stained her chest.

// attacking @BLAZESTAR
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johnny.png

HE SAID, "WELL MY NAME'S JOHNNY, AND IT MIGHT BE A SIN
BUT I'LL TAKE YOUR BET, AND YOU'RE GONNA REGRET, CUZ IM THE BEST THERE'S EVER BEEN."



Of course she didn't want to hear it- didn't want to face the truth of their actions, but Johnny was willing to bet a weeks worth of prey that if Skyclan had ambushed *their* camp in the middle of the night, Windclan would not praise it as an act of strategy either. He could barely stand looking at her, pleased only by the blood that now stained her coat and paws. Johnny had always prided himself on being fair and just, but his stomach soured at the thought of letting someone so cold to walk away unscathed when it meant she would only return with her friends to try again another day.

Claws ripped open his cheek, the warm wetness of blood trickling beneath his eye and dribbling down his jaw earning a hiss of pain that was quickly burned away in the fires of rage. He lept for her then, aiming to slam his body into hers in a violent grapple so that he could sink his teeth into the muscle where her neck and shoulder met. If he met his mark he'd leave deep punctures that ached every time she put weight on the limb.

@SCORCHSTREAK sorry for the wait! All opinions are IC!

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tw: in-depth descriptions of fatal injuries

His blow lands, and he feels the pincers of his claws shred through thick fur and flesh. The force behind the attack sends her flying, landing on her back, and her yowl is shrill with pain and rage. He retracts his paw, now heavy and coated with gore, his blue eyes glittering with determination. “Stand down, Sootstar. Go back to where you belong.” He will kill her if he must—and, stars, she might already be on her way, with the depth of that wound he’d given her.

He's underestimated her penchant for bloodlust, though—and, unfortunately for him, her speed. Her spine makes impact with the forest floor, but she’s springing back up, shedding blood with every movement. She’s small enough to duck under him before he can stop her, before he can react, and the heat of her claws opening his belly is enough to send him staggering. “N…” He tries to protest, gasping, but the blood bubbling in his throat prevents him from saying anything else. He can feel a weighted wetness spilling from the opened seam in his stomach—and he’s growing dizzy.

His paws slip from under him, and he lays on his flank, flat, one burning eye fixed on Sootstar’s visage soaked in carnage. SkyClan will prevail—won’t they?... He loses focus, and she blurs, blending in with the night until he’s gone.

// killed by @SOOTSTAR <3

  •  
  • blaise . blazestar
    — he/him ; leader of skyclan
    — pansexual ; divorced ; single
    — longhaired flame point Ragdoll with blue eyes
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — penned by Marquette
    — chibi by Mercibun
 
Bluepaw is surprised to feel the fur caught in her claws; she yanks her paw back, seeing a thin line of blood on the SkyClan she-cat’s cheek. Her opponent is older—perhaps an apprentice still, but if so, she’s one on the cusp of warriorhood. She faces Bluepaw with amber-green eyes that blaze, and there’s a grin on her face as though she enjoys the chaos of their fight. “You moor-rats are not wanted here!” The small gray she-cat remains expressionless, but her flanks heave with fear and effort. “WindClan will not tolerate disrespect,” she parrots what she’s heard her mother and the other tunnelers say, preparing to move again to land another attack.

But the tortoiseshell is quicker on her feet. She feints to the left, and Bluepaw turns, preparing to guard herself on that side. Still not battle-hardened, Bluepaw is fooled—a swipe of the paw comes at her right side, atop her head. She’s dazed again, but she snaps out of it quickly when the snag of claws in the tender flesh of her ear brings a gasp of pain. “How dare you,” she snarls, pulling herself back. Stinging wetness begins to drip from her left ear, and she realizes too late that she’s become her brother, her sister, her father. “You’ve… you’ve marked me!” Humiliated, Bluepaw springs again for the tortoiseshell, her slight weight attempting to crash into Howlpaw head-on and bowl her over.

// attacking @Howlpaw


  •  
  • bluekit . bluepaw
    — she/her, apprentice of windclan
    — bisexual ; single
    — long-haired blue she-cat with white and green eyes
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — penned by Marquette
    — art by Meg
 

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SOOTSTAR
[tw] blood descriptors & delusions

Even as blood continues to gush from her throat a slow smile rises onto her features as Blazestar falls to the ground. A blue eye meets her green and in Blazestar's last few moments they share a look of endless hatred.

The light behind his eye cracks and breaks, in it's reflection stands the moorland queen. Though covered head to toe in her own blood she's grinning ear to ear as her own life force drains. WindClan yowls and cries in pain and defeat all around her, she hears their screams, but bringing the King of Kittypets to the ground had all been worth it to her.

Victory! It was hers. The metallic taste of blood has never been sweeter.

"WindClan retreat!" Her yowl, though strained, rings through the forest. Her head grows light and her legs feel wobbly, but if she was to die tonight it would not be here.

Turning tail, she bolts back in the direction whence WindClan had came, a trail of blood following every pace she made.
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Though she hadn't intended to catch Bluepaw's ear, Howlpaw is satisfied at the injury she inflicted. She relishes in the frustration and humiliation from the WindClan apprentice thinking to herself that it's a just punishment for thinking they could come here and attack.

When Bluepaw springs at her again, attempting to bowl her over, Howlpaw should have in theory braced herself for the attack. However, at the moment of the pounce she hears a victorious Sootstar call for the WindClan cats to retreat, and Howlpaw instinctively turns to look in the direction of where she had been fighting with her father. Distracted Howlpaw crumbles to the floor from Bluepaw's, lying there listlessly for a moment whilst the WindClan cats make their retreat. When most of them have gone, Howlpaw quickly rises to her paws, shaking the dirt from her pelt and swiftly approaching Blazestar's fallen body. She knew her father had lost several lives but Howlpaw had never been present for any before. So to see this happening now is quite a sight. "D-Dad...?" She chokes out, swallowing the sob that threatens to burst from her throat. Howlpaw's legs feel wobbly but she remains strong, maintaining her composure for the moment. "Come back," She pleads softly. He always did... didn't he? "WindClan have retreated. We made it..."
 
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Reactions: BLAZESTAR and Jay

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Greeneyes thinks it might be a miracle, how quickly he managed to scale up the tree he now finds himself balanced within - how little he struggled to leap upon its branches.

However, what luck he holds in his paws is short-lived. As WindClan arrives and his clan mates begin to drop from the branches, Greeneyes drops down too. Orange and white paws falter in his landing and he stumbles forward at the impact.

"Ha!" It's a sharp, cold laugh that hits his ears. Wide eyes turn to the sound's source - a WindClanner. Smaller than him, perhaps younger too. A warrior? Greeneyes isn't sure.

"You kittypets can't do anything right, can you?" the WindClanner shoots at him - a dagger that twists into him, feeds his anger. He is not a kittypet. He is among SkyClan’s first born, the son of Blazestar’s first deputy. Greeneyes may live among kittypets, but he is nothing of the sort.

Greeneyes opens his mouth to protest, but words don’t manage to escape before claws strike at him - before his chest begins to sting and heat up with a trickling burst of warmth, snow-tangled fur tinged pink over broken skin. His eyes widen, his claws unsheathed as he moves to strike back, to begin a fight’s cycle amidst the chaos of the battlefield.

It’s a back and forth that the young warrior doesn’t find the upper-hand in, yet keeps up with all the same. His opponent has little to remember this battle by, but Greeneyes’ shoulders too begin to sting with scratches, his paws scraping against the ground.

His heart pounds as he twists to deflect from another blow, as he curves back to sink his claws into his opponent’s skin - to knock them off course and to give himself a moment to collect himself, to gather his strength and find a new strategy. And it works, sort of - just as he’d staggered forward on his landing, his opponent staggers backwards and loses his rights to laughing at Greeneyes’ initial blunder, as the moor-dweller finds himself toppled over in the dirt.

The tom moves quickly in an attempt to create space between the two of them, but it only proves to be another wrong move. Another moor-dweller is upon him, this one battered and bruised already as they nearly ram into him, as they nearly know Greeneyes over. In the midst of the battle, he thinks he can recognize this cat, thinks he remembers seeing them fighting someone else, thinks he can remember…

Drizzlepaw.

”Hurt!” He vaguely remembers the shouts cutting through the air, vaguely remembers the apprentice’s cries hitting his ears under yowls of his own opponent. Viridian gaze sweeps over the scene to try to spot the younger cat, only to widen at the crumpled form along the edge of the battlefield. His line of sight flickers to the cat in front of him, a realization hitting him - he’ll be on the ground too, if he doesn’t move fast enough.

Claws raise, slicing at his new opponent, sinking into skin quicker than his first. Upon its impact, Greeneyes doesn’t think that it’s a good strike, that it’s just been the same as the rest that he’s been throwing throughout this battle, and prepares himself to have to dodge another blow, crouching down to leap out of the way.

But another strike doesn’t arrive, as the WindClanner folds before him and Greeneyes’ eyes go wide at the form at his feet. What…? Did he…?

No… No... He couldn’t have. He… his claws hadn’t hit that hard. He couldn’t have killed the WindClanner, right..?

His chest tightens as his initial opponent shouts behind him, as the moor-dweller rushes over to the fallen form. Eyes open, breaths are taken, and Greeneyes feels himself take a breath too. His curse had not proven true today. The gaze of his initial opponent narrows in on him, paws stalking toward him. Greeneyes readies himself once more for nothing, as another call rings through the air.

”WindClan, retreat!”

The moor-dweller pauses, before hissing at Greeneyes and moving to collect the fallen warrior. The tom doesn’t see this, nor does he pay attention to the blood-laced trail Sootstar leaves behind. Instead, he moves towards the edge of the battlefield, towards Drizzlepaw’s form. Hurt, he had said, yet Greeneyes sees less damage on the apprentice than the moor-dweller he’d been up against. A white paw raises, only to pause as a moment of hesitation weighs upon the warrior, before he makes the decision to prod at Drizzlepaw’s shoulder.

Drizzlepaw…?” he croaks out. Surely he couldn’t be gone - surely viridian hadn’t set itself upon the battle, hadn’t given SkyClan more lives to mourn. He thinks he sees the rising and falling of the apprentice’s sides, but he can’t be too sure, as his own sides heave from the battle’s throes.

His gaze flickers back toward the battlefield as he makes the mistake of scanning it over once more - the mistake of setting his gaze on another unmoving form, on golden fur turned scarlet with the call of death. Blazestar.

His stomach twists at the sight, at the thought of death finding SkyClan upon the battle field - even ThunderClan's warning couldn't stop that, could it? But, Blazestar will come back - he... he always comes back, doesn't he?

His eyes sting as a paw pokes at Drizzlepaw’s form once more, as a sense of urgency arises among twists of verdant waves. “Drizzlepaw, you… you gotta wake up,” he squeaks, though he has a feeling he'll soon be dealing with the extra weight of carrying another on his shoulders, “We… We gotta go now.

// tl;dr: fought a couple npcs and is kind of shaken up by the battle in general - ie. the thought of almost killing someone, and the sight of drizzlepaw and blazestar. he has a few wounds, but nothing too major, and is currently trying to check up on @Drizzlepaw.​

 
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Reactions: Drizzlepelt
TW; Mentions of abuse and transphobia

Drizzlepaw’s dreams after passing out are filled with memories of his much younger childhood. It’s not that surprising, seeing as his assault was born from his trauma around his family. He probably should have expected for it to continue after his body gave out, but the part of his brain that was aware that this wasn’t real was screaming to let him wake up. He didn’t want to remember, not now. He needed to get up and move before he might die. But his mind is not that merciful. If he were to wake up, he’d first have to face the music.

His mind flies between different moments of his brother Sand bullying him. It wasn’t that unusual to get scathing remarks from the aptly named tom; he really only spoke to him when he felt the need to remind him of how much their mom preferred him over the blue cat. Drizzlepaw caught on quickly how little they both cared about him, but he tried his hardest to keep appealing to them both. It never worked.

After he came out as transgender to the both of them, his brother immediately laughed at him. Said he would never be a real man, because how could such a scrawny little kitten be seen as anything other than a weak molly? His mother at least had the kindness to just tell him to get out of her sight, but his brother wouldn’t relent. He attacked him, and Drizzlepaw was scarred badly the first few days on his lonesome. He healed fast, and it didn’t leave any lasting damage on his body, but the same couldn’t be said about his mental state.

His thoughts linger on his brother’s remarks, even as he’s awaken from the nightmare by being nudged by Greeneyes. His breathing is heavy, and he barely registers that he is not back to when he was disowned. He’s in SkyClan now. He repeats that to himself as he takes a moment to breathe before standing up as best he can. He takes note of WindClan retreating, and lets out a satisfied noise before turning his attention to the cat next to him.

“Sorry…I’m awake…” He says, though his words are shaky seeing as he’s not had proper time to heal. “I think…I’ll need help getting back…but I’m okay.” As okay as he can be after all that his brain made him go through, at least. He still can’t feel any significant wounds on his body, so he prays to StarClan that all he needs is a good night’s rest, preferably without any memories crawling back to plague him. He can figure out what possessed him to become that violent to the stranger from WindClan after he’s of sound mind.​
 
He’s here again, less than a moon since his last visit. Though the sky is brilliant with stars and a swelling moon, Blazestar finds himself struggling to his paws, despair weighing his body down as much as his injuries. Sootstar panting, standing victorious over him as the life left his body, is the last memory he has. Does this mean WindClan has broken through—does it mean their camp is being raided, their kits and queens and elders being slaughtered like prey? He thinks of Orangeblossom, her kits cowering in the nursery as she fights for their lives—he thinks of Bobbie, still injured from the hound’s jaws but fighting like the lioness she harbors to defend her young—and he exhales angrily, jaws clicking together.

A silver cat approaches him through rustling ferns. His eyes are yellow, flashing like the sun through boughs of pine. “Blazestar,” he greets, his tones polite but not quite warm. The whiskers on his face are frayed and bent. The SkyClan leader blinks. He has not seen this cat for many moons. “Haze,” he says. “Has WindClan been victorious?” He hauls himself to his paws, but the belly wound has him gasping, even as it repairs. “Have they… is anyone else…?

The starlit tabby shakes his head. “Rest. You will see for yourself.” Haze moves his gaze away, as though looking at something Blazestar cannot see. The Ragdoll is quiet, knowing he cannot rush StarClan’s recovery—knowing if he is to return, he must obey, obey. “Now you may return. Take care, Blazestar.” Haze flicks golden eyes to him, and there is an emotion there he cannot read. “Do not waste the gift StarClan gave you. My father’s legacy depends on you.”

Faded blue eyes darken with color, with life. Blazestar’s flanks begin to rise again. He’s faintly aware of cats streaming around him, escaping at Sootstar’s call. He thinks he can hear Greeneyes, Drizzlepaw—and his daughter is nearest him, her voice trembling but strong. “Come back,” her plea causes him to shift. “WindClan have retreated. We made it.”

With effort, he pulls himself upright, though the pain in his abdomen is unbearable, and he remains too weak to walk still. StarClan has given his life back, but he never should have led this battle party so soon after losing his last life. Blazestar pulls himself just a mouselength closer to Howlpaw, resting his head against her tortoiseshell flank. “Is everyone else okay?” He asks her faintly. “Did anyone else…?” Now that he’s upright, he can see Silversmoke, Slate, Greeneyes and Drizzlepaw, all battered but alive. Howlpaw herself bleeds from a scratch on her cheek, but she looks strong, just as the others do.

Blazestar closes his eyes, relief flooding through him. “Please… help me up. We must let the others know. WindClan will not raid our camp this night.” Perhaps in Sootstar’s eyes this is a victory for her Clan—but for him, the victory is SkyClan’s, for they remain relatively unharmed, still at peace—for now.


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  • blaise . blazestar
    — he/him ; leader of skyclan
    — pansexual ; divorced ; single
    — longhaired flame point Ragdoll with blue eyes
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — penned by Marquette
    — chibi by Mercibun
 
A peculiar savagery overtakes Slate as he makes a valiant effort to maul the WindClanner's jugular area, a feral growl thrumming in a crimson-spattered throat. The Maine Coon hasn't felt this thirsty for bloodshed in a long time, not since he roamed the streets desperate for scraps and eager to defend his turf as a hotheaded stray. It wasn't every day that Slate had the opportunity to flex his claws like this, bury his teeth into tender flesh like this. Inklings of his former self, a brutish Twolegplace rogue, began to seep through the persona of a reformed clan cat. He had killed out of self-defense before and there would be no hesitation to—

With a sudden slam of bone against bone, the Maine Coon is sent reeling backward. He swears he can see stars and blinking spots, the world around him flashing from dark to light and dark again. A strained groan escapes from beyond clenched jaws, though the throbbing pain in his head becomes the least of his worries when the WindClanner begins rabbit-kicking his stomach. Luckily his stomach is built to shield his innards from critical damage in an attack like this, but the she-cat's claws still rake into his flesh and tear.

A pained yowl erupts from the lead warrior's maw and he stumbles away from his position above his opponent, baring his teeth and he cringes, curling into himself as hot and stinging pain engulfs his underside. Damn! Slate was so certain that mere scratches wouldn't be able to deter him, but then again, he doesn't fight as often as he used to. Has he gone soft?

As if on cue, WindClan's leader calls for retreat. Another clanmate had hurried over to the she-cat and helped escort her away, while SkyClanners began to gather near where Blazestar lay bloodied upon the ground. Had Sootstar taken another life from him? Like always, though, the flame point manages to stand to his paws and live another day. So does Slate, apparently — scarlet stains his belly and multiple spots across his neck and back, but at least he gave that moor rat something to remember him by.