She knew the day would come when she would have to make this call. She had staved it off for as long as she could, perhaps too long. She couldn't just sit and watch her groupmates starve any longer. She had done what she could to maintain what shaky peace she could manage, had nearly lost it on account of Willow, but had reigned it in again. How was she repaid? By rising hostilities and provocations from the pine group. That one event had set them on a bitter mission to try her patience and evoke her wrath. They'd succeeded - the final straw being that some of them had tried to steal knowing that the marsh group was struggling to make ends meet. War was the last thing she wanted to get involved in, but she had to fight for those she led. She couldn't see Soot give birth to unhealthy kits, or the younglings that nursed at their queens sides wither away to skin and bone. She wasn't going to take it anymore. This was her forest. It always had been.

It always would be.

She would no longer cower in the faces of twoleg pets who taunted them for eating frogs and lizards while they got fat off of food akin to rabbit pellets. She was done. Her patience had been worn thin and her anger was boiling over the brim.

Briar strode confidently across camp and took her designated spot atop the lichen-covered rock at the edge of the hollow. Her usually dull gaze was ablaze with determination and fury. A deep breath swelled in her chest and then vanished, deflating her body and relaxing her taut muscles. She knew just as many of her groupmates would rally to her side as they would oppose this action. Briar knew the risks war brought with it. She knew they could lose good fighters, but she knew the even more ominous consequences of sitting back and letting Rain's cats walk all over her. It was now or never.

"Marsh cats!" she yowled, her voice echoing through the clearing and splitting the silence of the dwindling hours of the day. The sun was beginning to lower beyond the horizon, sinking over the mountain range over yonder. "For far too many moons, I have let the pine cats hunt on our lands, hoping they'd find more comfort in the Twolegplace and return to their homes in their twoleg nests and on the streets. I hoped the loners and rogues who had joined their ranks would see the conflict and abandon them, but alas, they grow stronger, and our prey pile continues to dwindle." A sigh leaves her. She looks older, feels older. Like a thousand moons suddenly tacked themselves onto her life. What she was about to propose had not come to her lightly, she'd slaved over the thought of war for ages now. She knew it was what had to be done. "Tomorrow, we go demand that the pine group leaves our forest. If they do not, we spare them no mercy. We will chase them from our hunting grounds, back to their cushy beds or whatever holes they crawled out of! We will fight for what has been ours for many, many seasons with our blood if we must. I will not sit idly by and let us starve any longer."

She paused, long enough to eye the faces of those gathered, hoping there were more with her than against her in this. "I need all able-bodied cats to come with me when the sun rises. Tonight, we prepare for war."


Ears perk up in intrigue.

At Briar's words, a wave of emotions washes over her. Excitement. Joy. Agreement. Pride.
But most of all? Relief.
The blue molly thought this day would never come.

She wanted nothing more than to be a part of this moment. Again, she found the kittens that grew inside her stomach to be an obstacle more than anything. Surely this wouldn't stop her from being able to get some action?! She was an excellent fighter (in her opinion, of course), and the leader couldn't afford to keep her behind.

With her head held high in confident she calls, "I'm with you Briar!" If Briar's gaze met hers the spike-y furred cat would be met with a daring look. She would see if she'd need to put up a (hopefully) convincing fight to allow the blue smoke to join in.


Sandra ✧ She/Her ✧ Marsh Group. ░░░░░░░░░░░░░

At the call of Briar, the skinny she-cat had made her way over to the gathering groups of cats. Looking up with hopeful eyes, wanting to see what their leader had in store for them and hoped it was something kind. Something she could stand behind. Though what came from the black-shecats mouth was anything but kind, anything but a solution to a problem; it was a war. War wouldn't solve this! Why would she declare such a thing? They were going to die because of her injustices! Why wasn't there more to this than a war? Maybe a conversation would be helpful?

Sandra gave a small shake of her head, looking down at her paws and she began to question why she was here. Why she had decided to join this group; because of Flint. Why she tried so hard to make it work; becase of Flint. No, there had to be more than just him. There was Ash, Twilight and many others she had become friends with over her time here and now they could be stripped away without a second thought. Over prey of all things. All because they had to focus on the differences of each other than the similarities.

This was senseless blood shed. This would lead to so many deaths, so much blood poured just over something so stupid. Sandra couldn't believe it. She just couldn't stand by this, she just couldn't do this. The cinnamon tabbys' eyes began to water as she looked at her paws, taking one to wipe them away, and she gave a soft sigh. But who was she to argue with Briar? ​
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✵ ღ ☾ I'LL LET YOU DOWN - Despite her young age, the vicious game of tug-o-war between the two groups was information everyone was privy to, she had even grown up on stories of those greedy, fat kitty pets. Though, it wasn’t until Bone and countless others had come back with their stories of stolen prey and skirmishes that her bitterness for the group had truly taken hold.
She finds her gaze wandering around camp when Briar jumped to her rock, and quickly Cloudy’s attention was stolen, her head swiveling from where she sat, poised and alert.
She felt her heart begin to quick it’s pace as Briar went on, and her sheathed paws flexing on the ground, this would be her moment to prove herself to her colony.
Though her excitement quickly halted when she remembered a certain flecked marsh cat. One she had begrudgingly grown close to, and now as her gaze began to wander for him once more, she realized the concern that had flooded into her chest cavity for him. He had been trembling like a leaf when faced with the rats, how could Briar expect him to fight? Half-minded thoughts danced around her mind as she promptly stood and went to search for Ash, making a silent promise to protect him once more, though hopefully the kitty pets were nothing compared to the rats they had faced together.
❝ Speech. ❞


Flicker has been waiting for this moment. Her paw pad still stings when she forgets herself and puts too much weight on it, and her tail tip is a bit sore, but she is eager to fight. Her claws itch to scrape kittypet fur from fat, doughy flesh, and she adds her voice to Soot's with confidence. "Let's get 'em!" She sits tall, proud, hoping Moth will not chastise her or run. They're in this together, aren't they? They all are--they have to be.


Ash is not surprised after all that has occurred in the past few moons. He still gulps around the trepidation wedged in his throat at Briar's war cry, and his paws feel leaden as he pads from his mother's side into the clearing. Yellow eyes search the crowd. Soot and Flicker are raring to go, but Sandra looks lost, sad.

The small black and white tom brushes his flank against hers. "Don't worry. We'll be okay." His voice holds no confidence, but it does carry the warmth he feels for the cinnamon tabby.

He finds a snowy pelt next, and he sits beside Cloudy. In the presence of the beautiful young femme, he's beginning to feel braver. They'd fought rats together, had defied fate. Salamander has taught him to defend himself. His mother will be there, and Sandra, and strong, fierce cats like Soot and Cicada and Flicker and so many others.

They will be okay. He hopes.


Twilight says nothing as her son leaves her side. She watches with a small smile as Ash goes first to Sandra, and then to young Cloudy. Her heart swells, even as it's wrought with the fear she feels. He has made friends, even if it's so close to war.

The black and white queen does not raise her voice with the other cats, but she does meet Briar's gaze from where she stands on the ground. She's in all the way, and she always will be. For Ash, for her friends, for her home.


Were it not for her wavy fur, the toll of hunger would be evident in the way her ribs had begun to poke from her sides. Her pelt was dull, not its usual fiery brilliance, and yet when her leader called for them and declared that they were to go to war with the Pine group, Fire would step forward with an emerald gaze ablaze with a ferocity that was unusual for the normally kind and humble molly.

She hated to fight. She was good at it, but she had never wanted to spill another cat's blood if she could help it, but even she understood that if they did nothing, her friends, her family, and her home was in danger of withering into nothing. She took a moment to look around for Bigfoot or Azaela, before looking up at her leader and nodding solemnly. She would give her life for her home.

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  • rev_custom_t_by_aleskay_df7cn2t-pre.png_tokeneyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCI.png
    ── So. Here they are. Roseal had strongly suspected this would be the outcome, but he hadn't thought it would be so soon. He hadn't known which group would cave first, either, but maybe he should have guessed it would be the marsh cats. Despite the pine group's own exacerbation of the issues between them, they had seemed simply content to remain in their claimed area, at least for the time-being, while those here needed desperately to branch out. Not that it matters who strikes first; no one but the worms will win, and the kittens whose bellies they fight for will come out the worst for it.

    Roseal shouldn't accompany them, should retreat and wait several days for their conflict to settle itself one way or another. Yet for all his certainty in its conclusion, he wants to believe some chance remains of compromise. Even pessimists and cynicists dream.

    Saying nothing, he takes stock of the faces gathered, some determined, some resigned, and all the while he wonders if they'll still be standing the next evening.

  • n/a​
  • ──── surr'oseal'isme (roseal). he/him pronouns. roamer; goes where he pleases.
    ──── approximately thirty-eight months old; not entirely certain of his own age.
    ──── single & uninterested in any romantic attachments; possibly open for flings.
    ──── very tall, scarred albino with sharply-peaked ears and a bobbed, scruffy tail.​

  • unebebebebbebe.png
A breath leaves Pumpkins mouth as she hears Briars call. She cannot tell if the pit growing in her stomach was fear, hunger or excitement and shes dragging herself, forcing herself; to go towards the group that was gathering. Orange eyes flicker through each face there- Soot and Flicker had made themselves known but Cicada was no where in sight. She wonders what his opinion on this would be, but judging from the way he fought during the skirmish and the lashing of his tongue during the aftermath, he’d probably be excited. Her mind goes to Flicker next, gaze unreadable as she finds herself just staring. She’s still hurt and Pumpkins eyes slowly recede to the paw that had the cut. She idly flicks an ear and finds herself nearly choking on all the feelings that had begun to make themselves known. She looks back in to the crowd for comfort, looking for Cicada, the one who reminded her of her father.
I’m in.” her voice wavers as she steps forwards, fear sparked in her chest but a fire alight in her eyes. She may be young, afraid and small, but this would not stop her from defending her home. She had been graciously brought in by these cats when Mother had abandoned her, she could not afford to let them down. “Lets go kick some kittypet tails, eh?” she’s speaking to no one in particular, more so of a reassurance to herself. She moves to stand besides Soot, trying to absorb the older females confidence. She’d be okay, right? These older cats surely knew what they were getting themselves into…. Right..?

− ♱ ABOUT : his ears perk at the call and a sudden rush of blinding hope threads it’s way through his ribcage with enough force to leave him dizzy in the head, wrapping him in gilded, nervous light. his mottled bruising was nothing but a healing splotch of yellow beneath his fur and he does not wince as he hoists himself to his paws, emerging from a thicket of brush and allowing relief to paint clear over bicolored features as he slips quick from the shadows, blue eyes fixated on the spike - furred felidae. briar. her voice had rung clear over the marsh camp, and despite the tinge of exhausting riding the ends of her yowl, she’d had enough. it had only taken multiple patrols assaulted first. his tail lashes despite himself, two - toned limbs bringing him to a pause aside pumpkin. the youth was shaken, but spoke proudly, orange eyes like tongues of flame. it was really happening.

finally. finally. “ he breathes, an ear twitching at pumpkins words, a manic smile coming to plaster wildly over his maw. he's. . conflicted. a mix of apprehension and excitement mingles uncomfortably in his chest, settling heavy in the pit of his stomach. a sudden wave of nausea overtakes him, blue luminaries flitting towards pumpkin again and hes terrified; terrified of what could happen to the smallest of them. the calico herself packed a punch, but she was so little . . so similar to quiet, to opal. the visions of little food for soots kits, dewdrops kits, haunted him — they would have to drive the filthy pets out of their pine forest themself first,” we're with you, briar. we’ll make those pitiful vermin sorry they ever left their twolegs.

  • CICADA ; he / him, roughly thirty two months old, marsh group member
    − tall black smoke tortie chimera with icecap eyes and curly fur, homosexual
    − speaks with a german accent, attack in #171717, penned by antlers

  • none.


✵ ღ ☾ IT TOOK ME BY SURPRISE - The silver tabby is already settled near by when Briar makes her calling.
Azalea felt her paws begin to tingle as she instinctively unsheathed her claws. After all those good-for-nothing Pine cats had stolen, harassed, and overall just annoyed them, it was finally going to happen. Truthfully, Azalea would have rather be a little older, a little more skilled, a little more lethal. Yet, the silver lining lay in the fact that she was able bodied, and old enough to stand up to those arrogant pricks. As her group mates piped up their own yowls of agreement, Azalea stood, joining in for a moment before moving to stand next to Fire. ❝ We’re going to teach those kittypets a lesson they’ll never forget! ❞ She said to her friend, her own navy gaze ablaze with excitement.
❝ Speech. ❞

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Dread. Hollow and heavy in her stomach. That is all Moth feels as the announcement ran out. Her eyes were dull as she stared up at the midnight furred molly on high, who suddenly felt like such a stranger to her. They had talked about this day. Both seen it on the horizon. She had thought they shared the same dread for it, but now?

Now the cat above her called out for war. Called out with righteous, indignant anger that light fires in the bellies of her groupmates. Encouraged them to raise their voices in kind, to push onward toward the path of tooth and claw. Declared that their lives could only be bought back with blood. She didn't know this cat. She wondered if she ever really had.

Behind Briar, the sunset lights the sky ablaze.

Fiery oranges consume the sky.

Flicker found comfort in fire. It was in the passionate cry she throw into the cacophony. As it was in everything else she did. It was inevitable that she would end up here, a spark among the blaze. That was what Moth loved and hated about her.

She didn't have that fire. Had no drive of her own, only the desperate animal instinct to survive and a love for the simple things in life. A full belly, a long nap, a good conversation. Left to her own devices she would aspire to nothing. She would survive until she didn't. That was why Flicker had been wrong when she said that she owed her. Neither of them owed each other anything, they had helped each other.

Flicker is also why she is still here. Without her she would have taken the easy way out, left the group behind in search of greener pastures. never would she have thought to stay this long. Even if she had, this would have been the last straw. Even with Flicker here this is almost a bridge too far. She still wants to run. But she can't bring herself to leave her best friend to die. So she doesn't.

She sits silent and still as she stares upward.

All around her her clanmates cheer.
A crescendo. Discordant noises, bright and bold in their own ways, clashed beneath the shade of the oak forest. Whether their heads were full of malice or mere misunderstanding, it was bound to get worse. Only became such each and every day. Another argument, more tension, a skirmish, patrols returning to camp with fresh wounds in their pelts. Fiesty, for a group of soft-bellies.

It was bound to happen eventually. Frog's Croak lifts his gaze to Briar. Hears the clamoring of the others around him. There are some loud yowls of approval, some looks of contemplation. He heaves a sigh. "S'been a long time coming," Encouragement or resignation. Whichever it was only depended on who listened.

So, this was it.

His true promise to this group, finally fulfilling itself - to protect those around him, to defend the camp he's been settling into. A fight he'd been unknowingly preparing for since he was just as young as some of the kits who lived within the marsh group - kits he'd be, evidently, fighting along side, he realizes, upon hearing Pumpkin's words.

"I'm in, as well." Hatch stands amongst the crowd, eyes scanning across those he'd be fighting with. This was their home. This was his home. It deserved to thrive far more than it has been, and if it meant a war was coming, then so be it.
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Blue eyes exchange a look with his green-eyed twin.

All of his games, had led to this. All of the duo's incessant leaping on others, all of their wandering off. All of it, lead to this moment. One that, only just a few days ago, Leaping Toad would have said he was ready for, if anyone were to ask him.

But, now?

Everything had changed. He'd learned what the kittypets were up to, how strong the eldest of them were, when they defeated a marsh patrol - cats he looked up to, cats he thought were strong fighters, coming home injured; the fresh-kill pile left empty.

And then, there was Cosmos. The pale-furred kit he and Frog's Ribbit met on their last mission out of the marshlands. He didn't seem like one to be fighting in this, but would he be there too? Would he lose his life within this? Would his family lose their lives to Leaping Toad's own family? Would Cosmos' family be the one to kill his?

He grows nervous at the idea of it all, but knows he has to fight - that his brother has to fight.

He has to protect Ribbit.

He can't lose Ribbit.
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This was an outcome it was impossible to fail to see coming. The others populating his group cared so much for this territory dispute- cared what was their food and their land, to the point where Berry wondered that there may be something wrong with him. Whoever caught the food could have it, so far as he was concerned- but then, the morality of the pine group's supposed stealing could be questioned. Seldom felt, a flare of frustration twisted dully in Berry's gut. Everything was laid out before him, and yet he did not feel the way he knew he was supposed to.

His family was angry, and called for revenge alongside the rest of the marsh group. So then, that would be his opinion. With the clamour of his kin he too would join, though his voice did not yowl any promises of vengeance. His promise was to his family, to Big Mama and his siblings and their kin. They had been there for him when there was no-one else, and even without the binding of blood he knew he was their brother. When he had not been sure of himself, they had supported him, seen him as he was. Everyone in the marsh group had.

So, even if there were some he cared for much more, he figured that their battle was too his own. To battle he would go, following the lead of the breeze.
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Hearing her sister call out is enough to make her get up from where she has been laying, nursing her fresher wounds. She turns her head toward the pitch colored molly and finally rises to make her way over as all of the other marsh cats do. Settling down near Cicada her eyes glimmer with intrigue at what this is all about and then she perks up as her sister speaks about finally taking a stand and fighting against those plump kittypets. She is pleased with the decision, pleased that they will finally take a stand against those that have invaded their territory and are taking their food. Tonight they will prepare to fight for their home if it comes to that. But first they will give them one last chance to go back to where they actually belong. Where they were supposed to be from the very beginning. Her eyes are hooded in thought before she gives a small nod. She understands the consequences and lives may be lost but this is what needs to be done. They need to make those soft bellies understand where they are and who rules this forest. As the first colony here they show no respect towards the marsh cats and it irks her.

Taking in a deep breath she allows herself a moment to breath before she nods her head. Of course she will be with her sister, through everything they had to endure together she does not ever see a moment in her life where she will speak out against her own family. It makes little sense to do so and she flicks her white streaked tail back and forth. She's ready to serve out this sentence and help her colony that is all that matters. This place that took her in moons ago and allowed her to thrive an have a home. To be able to live. "Time to put them in their place. I'll come as well, sister." There is no doubt in her tone, only a sharp seriousness as she acknowledges this hard decision.
( ) The moment that Briar's call touches their ears, they know. Crow's stomach churns as they crane their neck to stare up at Briar, a nervous lash of their tail following the deafening silence that falls over the camp. Bone's bloody return to camp the other day had been the final nail in the coffin. Their colony wants war.

Crow's claws dig into the damp soil, their ears flattened. Briar announces that tomorrow, the group would demand that Rain leaves the forest. And if Rain refuses... They swallow hard. Yowls of agreement rise from the crowd, and a wave of nausea washes over them. Their groupmates want this. They want bloodshed. What kind of hell is Crow living in?

Maybe Crow wouldn't care so much if his beloved Everest did not live among Rain's colony.

Oh, stars. What will happen to them?

He would've been content enough to stay behind and wait out this shitstorm in camp. But Everest could get hurt. Everest could die. His mouth is unbearably dry as he rasps, "Your brains must've shriveled up and turned to dust if you think this is the solution." It's soft, barely audible above the calls of his groupmates. However, his gaze is defiant as he glares at Briar. One last ditch attempt to stop this madness. He already knows they won't listen to him; when have they ever listened?

"I'm going." Not for these bastards, but for Everest. They would ensure that their mate makes it out of this bloodbath alive.
Pride. Ignorant, arrogant, pride. It was the dreadful crux that fueled this self-righteous fury. The swamp cats were too stubborn and proud to adapt to the situation. And too blind to see that the situation wasn't as black and white as it seemed: there was never them vs. us. This hate had been built on a foundation of wounded egos. They ignored the lands filled with plump rabbits and the streams fresh with bountiful fish.

Bile burned her throat as she watched with a carefully calculated expression. A call to rid the world of the so-called "kittypets" was raised within the camp and echoed from numerous mouths. It was disgusting. Not all within the pine colony were kittypets. Lineage and bloodline meant little. Actions always spoke louder than words. Some were abandoned by their two legs, forced to fend for themselves. First, they were abandoned and then treated with prejudice by the wild cats. There was a saying that wild cats were completely feral and rabid without proper manners. Tomorrow, the stereotype would be proven correct.

Briar acted high and mighty as if she were entitled to the land. There was another forest nearby that barely saw a single soul. The colony complained that they shouldn't be forced to learn how to hunt in new lands. Which, honestly, was funny that they couldn't hear how moronic they sounded. It wasn't the pine cats' fault that the hunters within the swamp only knew how to properly catch prey with little nutritional value.

Salamander brushed against Frog's Croak, or at least try given he didn't flinch away after knowing her true thoughts. Her face was composed and cold. It was impossible to think what the warrior was thinking. So long she'd been a soldier who followed rules without questions. But Hares Whisker had never given her reason to question the morality. Attacking the pine colony wasn't justice nor truly justifiable when the cats remained blind to alternative routes.

The tension had always been leading up to a bloody battle. After all, their ravenous bloodlust could only be solved when crimson life was spilled.

"I will defend my family." she cooly responded. And it was a truthful statement. Salamander remained because of her family and would gladly give her life to protect them. She eyed Leaping Toad and Frog's Ribbit.

Silent steps carried her towards her nephews, "Try to stay within line of sight. There is no shame in running. Remember that." If anyone dared to shame the boys who were not even full-grown then they'd have to worry about more than the pine colony. Her eyes searched for Ash and, upon pin-pointing him, gave him a silent signal that her words were meant toward him too.

Salamander did not want their fiery youth the be quelled due to adults and their fragile egos. She couldn't lose her family. Refused to believe it was a possibility. She would join this fight and she would make sure they returned to a blissful youth.

Oh, how soon that false hope would be broken. In the end, Salamander would be powerless. ​
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