private Where there's a will... (Discussion)

It was bizarre to be convening Sootstar's council without Sootstar herself present, but he was doing it anyway, because that was what needed to be done. Though he would never identify it in himself, Badgermoon was a good cat to have around in moments of high stress, in no small part because he was simply too straightforward of mind to become overly distressed about possible options. For better or for worse, he was best at what was directly in front of him. Much more present in his mind than his own capabilities was that of the lead warriors: Badgermoon held them all in high esteem and was grateful that they were here to support him and Sootstar, and - more importantly - to support WindClan. The black-and-white tom now sat and surveyed his colleagues, a solemn expression on his features, his speckled paws unnaturally still. "So, we know what happened." began the broad-shouldered cat with a small sigh, "I think it's obvious that we can't do nothing. We will act, it's just a question of what type of action we want to take."

His yellow eyes flicked from face to face, seeking, probing. "I am of the opinion that we should give RiverClan a chance to do the right thing." he didn't think they'd actually do such a thing, of course, but it felt irresponsible to not at least try. "We could go to the border, demand to speak with Cicadastar, and ask that he hands Hyacinthbreath over. Once she's in WindClan's custody, well..." did it even need saying? Surely, she had earned herself an execution. "Juniperfrost must be avenged, but I don't think launching ourselves into war is how he would want to be remembered." though perhaps it would - Badgermoon had not known the fallen warrior well. "I think it's worth trying to get our paws on the perpetrator before taking bigger action." then again, it was clear the Clan hungered for river-sweetened blood: perhaps a battle would not be so unwelcome.

@SUNSTRIDE @WOLFSONG @WEASELCLAW @TIGERFROST @VULTUREMASK @SOOTSTAR
 
──⇌•〘 INFO Perhaps it might seem uncharacteristic to those only superficially familiar with Wolfsong, but he has already grown weary of talking. The very thought of walking to RiverClan for a conversation riles the acid in his gut. Cicadastar will not pass Hyacinthbreath over to them for judgment— Wolfsong is certain of this. For a traitor, lying comes even more easily than bleeding, and no doubt exists in his chest that she hasn't already filled her leader's head with a tale fit to stroke every odious thought about WindClan. Why accept the burden of consequences when the foundation already exists for her to shift responsibility with impunity?

The Gatherings should be proof enough that there is no reasoning with the likes of Cicadastar, of Blazestar, of Dawnglare. How much can one of StarClan's chosen bleed until their lives are spent?

His claws wound the earth, jaw clenched so tightly his ears ache. "If we visit them for negotiations, all we give RiverClan is time to prepare," he says, his rasp dipping into a lower register. "Do you not remember what was said when we refused to watch our clanmates die? They called us evil." A snarl curls his lip and he does not dare look at Sunstride. "If we speak, they will not hear us— they will turn their heads, their backs. But they cannot ignore our teeth at their throats.
 
teenysun
Where Badgermoon may be a calm in this storm, Sunstride embodies it. A loosely clothed bolt of lightning, held from violence by the cold of his eyes. Electricity seems to spark from his pelt nonetheless, held tall and true with great strides, barely restrained from a run. He does not sit when they reach their destination, unable to settle his skin. There is an absurd moment where Badgermoon's peace is his enemy, rather than those across the border; where all he would fight against is the calmness of his body when the world called for action. He swallows the overlay, the haze that paints the world red, but does not blink it wholly away. Rage lingers, unripe-bitter.

"Juniperfrost's last words were spoken against them: he would not beg peace from us now." He looks to Wolfsong, unable to restrain himself the way the other had, but finds his gaze sweeping back to Badgermoon just as readily. Though the other warrior speaks what each of them knows to be true, he comes to his side anyway, and rests one paw atop his. To steady him, perhaps, or only still his anger enough for the world to make sense again. "If we are to allow them the warning to plan, we should begin our own preparations now. We cannot rely on words to solve this– one of our own is dead. Without retribution, they will see us only as cowards that they may push along. More of our clan will die, if we do not make it clear now."

He releases Wolfsong, though does not move far. A short pace to one side, the tip of his tail flicking harshly behind him. "If you are to make you pleas to them, we must only use it to our advantage."
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  • ooc:
  • SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
    —— cis male, he - him. thirty-six moons old. lead warrior of windclan and former rogue.
    —— gay, but somewhat closeted. will not be open about his interests.  single, will be so.
    —— seems comparatively stranger than who he was some moons ago, serious and cool.

    sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
  • "speech"
 
Weaselclaw's temper is roiling. He sits to the side of Sunstride, his features creased with his mounting anger. His claws flex in, out, in, out, to the rhythm of his raging heart. Another WindClanner dead. RiverClan thieving from them again, not from their mouths this time but directly from their ranks. The tabby listens to his deputy's opinion and cannot help himself from snorting in response.

"I've tangled with RiverClan too many times. They are proud of how hateful they are." He clenches his jaw and lashes his tail. Wolfsong and Sunstride, separately, verbalize their desire for retaliation. Direct retaliation. Weaselclaw gives each of his fellow leads a curt nod. "Juniperfrost would not have wanted us to grovel to Cicadastar." He spits the name like a curse. "He would have wanted us to march on their camp with our fangs bared. He'd want Hyacinthbreath flayed alive."

He can't deny it's what he wants, too.

"I'll follow your lead," he tells Badgermoon, "but I want nothing to do with any peacemaking attempts. RiverClan knows me, and they'll only spit in your face a second time if I'm there kissing Cicadastar's paws with you." He hisses. "And if I know that rat bastard, he'll never give Hyacinthbreath of his free will."

He remembers a night, long ago, when the spindly smoked tom had stolen through the moors, cloaked in darkness. He remembers his claws tearing through flesh and fur.

I should've taken every life he had then and there.

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]
 

He was there listening under complete silence, his opinion kept to himself. Badgermoon suggested a more peaceful way to handle this crime, a ticket out for riverclan so they wouldn't feel their wrath. The rest wanted war. Ah, how was he not surprised?. Vulturemask knew this was going to happen because the moors always wanted to taste blood, loving the color red. It was natural to want vengance to spill more needless violence. It would be wrong to say he was different because he wasn't. The same wrath runs through his own veins. Vulturemask would support whatever the council decided on knowing starclan would be their judge at the end once their time comes. He could do nothing to help those who didn't want his help.



 
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There's a pride that swells within his heart as they speak, each one eager to avenge their clan-mate with blood and fury. WindClan did not take such things lying down, after all. RiverClan were fools if they thought they could get away with this unscathed. Eyes burned like fire as he nods his agreement, first to Wolfsong, then to the rest. They advocated for war, and Tigerfrost was right there with them.

"I agree. It's unlikely that Cicadastar will give up one of his own warriors, and if we allow them time to plan, we may arrive to a camp filled with not just RiverClan, but SkyClan, too." Tigerfrost speaks venom from his fanged jaws, clearly irritated by the very thought of that vile alliance. "Remember, RiverClan and SkyClan are weak, hence their willingness to lick each other's feet for help. Numbers can still overwhelm regardless. This fight will take most, if not all, of WindClan." He does not speak it, but they probably know it. WindClan would have to prepare for serious injury, or perhaps even more losses. It was a risk that Tigerfrost was more than willing to take.

"Do we know how SkyClan cats cross the river? They must have a way, if they were able to rally RiverClan for help during our last fight. It may be wise to locate this crossing, and see if we can sabotage or otherwise destroy it, even if it's only temporary. It may keep SkyClan from interfering if they're forced to go all the way up through ThunderClan territory to reach that two-leg bridge." By the time SkyClan did arrive, the fight would be over. Or so... Tigerfrost hopes.

The two-leg bridge would be WindClan's method of entering the enemy territory, but he thinks there must be another way, closer to where SkyClan land met RiverClan water. And... after that last gathering, ThunderClan might not be too happy to see a SkyClan war-party trying to cross their territory to aid RiverClan, which would inevitably work in WindClan's favor, buying them even more time to beat RiverClan into submission.

The alternative, of course, was that WindClan simply strike as fast and as strong as possible, and hope that SkyClan isn't able to be rallied in time to run to Cicadastar's aid. Perhaps the ferocity of WindClan will be enough on it's own. Tigerfrost certainly holds confidence in his own abilities, alongside those of his own clan.

"It may also be wise to attempt an attack on their medicine den, to destroy as many herbs as we can. As cruel as it sounds, I want this attack to leave a lasting message. Cicadastar should know that he and his warriors cannot butcher WindClan cats and get away with it. Not only should this attack leave them bloodied, but all the better should they turn to their precious medicine cat, only to find that he has nothing to offer their dying members. Let RiverClan feel the grief they have forced upon us." Oh, it is cruel. It is cold as ice and bitter as a blizzard's wind. But... he doesn't care. Doesn't care about RiverClan lives, not their leader, their warriors, or even their wounded.

No, they killed Juniperfrost, and they thought they could get away with it. RiverClan could burn.
 
Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised, but his Clanmates and fellow members of Sootstar's council seemed to be hardly containing their fury. His idea to speak with Cicadastar first, to demand Hyacinthbreath be handed over to WindClan, was clearly not popular. Badgermoon's yellow eyes lingered on Wolfsong as the golden tom spoke first, watching as a snarl crept across his handsome face. "Fine words from RiverClanners, to call us evil. As if their paws aren't stained with blood." murmured the bicolor tom, attention shifting to Sunstride as the infuriated lead warrior began speaking. They are hungry for blood. But he had known that already. And wasn't he just as hungry? "You both make good points, thank you..." he mrowed in response, brow furrowing in thought.

Weaselclaw's claws massaged the ground in a furious tempo, and as Badgermoon watched he was reminded again that Sootstar's mate had his own history with RiverClan. The brown tabby tom joined the chorus in advocating for war, for violent revenge, and he let out a small sigh as silence returned. Vulturemask made no verbal contributions, simply sat: night-pelted, watchful. Badgermoon wondered what was behind the medicine cat's slightly unsettling eyes. "Do not assume I would grovel or kiss anyone's paws, Weaselclaw." the deputy's voice was calm and level, but there was a sharpness to it that suggested a rebuke, ever so slightly. He was not remotely interested in pulling rank or in souring what he felt was a friendly, mutually respectful working relationship with Weaselclaw, but he knew as surely as he knew anything that disrespect could start small. He would tolerate none of it, nor any misinterpretations of his character.

Tigerfrost was the last warrior to speak, which was perhaps for the best - clearly the chimera had devoted much thought to what action they would take next, even in the few moments which had elapsed between the discovery of Juniperfrost's body and this meeting, as he had much to say. It was obvious that he, too, preferred the idea of immediate retaliation. "I would hope that we can strike before SkyClan has time to travel, and that we don't waste time trying to find their crossing-place." it wasn't a bad thought, not at all, but he feared they did not have the time to investigate it. "We have no quarrel with their young and sick. I will not endorse the ransacking of their medicine den." to do such a thing felt...unsportsmanlike, somehow. Dishonorable. "I understand that you are all angry. I'm angry, too." his pink tongue darted, hummingbird-like, across his muzzle as he thought. "I want to make them pay, I just want to make it count. I don't want to risk losing warriors for nothing."

"Perhaps we raid their camp, but make it clear that we will retreat if they give us Hyacinthbreath. And we retreat if she dies in battle, too."
Badgermoon glanced around at the circle of furious tomcats. "And we should also ask ourselves what happens after we battle. Is one raid enough? Two? Are we to wage an entire war, perhaps bring in our starving, shadowy friends?" he shook his head slowly. "We don't need to have all the answers, now, but I just want us to be thinking about these things. A Clan that acts on impulse alone is sure to run itself into the ground. Perhaps Sootstar will offer us her counsel, in time." Badgermoon rose to his feet, and he felt something ravenous begin to quicken in his heart. Soon. Soon.