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Post by Fawn on Nov 29, 2018 19:15:58 GMT -5
BLACKWOLF First, No Sequel do The Math, No Equal Blackwolf's claws, long and notoriously sharp, tapped against NightClan's stone floor as Foxstar, Briarthroat and the chosen cats left for the moonhigh gathering. He kept the disdain off his face long enough for the last cat to clear the cavern mouth and vanish into the darkness beyond it. Mismatched eyes flashed in the dim interior, and he reveled in the sense of power, the knowledge of a plan coming to fruition. With the Clan heads gone, Blackwolf became the most senior authority - literally. He was the oldest, the most experienced. Nobody had the guts to challenge his authority if they weren't prepared to argue with tooth and claw, too.
"Darkstorm, Graywolf, Hollystorm, Ashfang, Crowflame, we're going hunting." Blackwolf locked gazes with his daughter, his stare becoming taunting, as if he expected her to refuse and go spend time with Sunpulse. But Hollystorm merely narrowed her eyes, able to see right through his so called hunting party. With a luxurious stretch, Hollystorm's claws flexed, and she walked towards him, soon forced to trot as he made lengthy strides for the entrance.
"Graywolf and Crowflame are still young." Hollystorm reminded him.
"They have my blood flowing through them," he retorted, stalking ahead. "Even that good-for-nothing Bonetail can hold his own in a fight."
Hollystorm snorted at his answer, but she fell into step at her father's back, keeping pace.
Blackwolf breathed in the chilly night air, letting it seep through his dense, silver-tinged fur and right into his muscles. Alive. He felt alive. StarClan, he was itching for a battle; he wanted to taste TreeClan blood on his tongue and hear their squeals, just before he ripped them open from belly to tail. Foxstar's negligence disgusted.
He spat as they walked, making it clear their path was nowhere near NightClan's usual hunting trail. He was gunning for the Branch Trail; the cats he'd gathered didn't need the light of the full moon overhead to see that.
"We wait for TreeClan's dawn patrol," he ordered, as though a general to his soldiers. "I don't care if they outnumber us. I want them shredded. NightClan owns the Branch Trail, and no TreeClan stench is going to tell me otherwise."
You're a bunch of soft old fools. He sent these derisive thoughts to Foxstar and Briarthroat both. The most useful thing they could do for the Clan right now was stay out of Blackwolf's way. He would bring NightClan the glory they deserved, and the territory they never should have lost in the first place.
The night stretched on, and Blackwolf's energy only grew as the sky began to lighten with the first few touches of dawn. There was the rustle of approaching paws. Blackwolf flexed claws, bared teeth in a savage grin. When he saw the first uncertain step of a TreeClan patrol appear between the sheltering pine and oak trees, Blackwolf unleashed a war cry.
"Attack!"
88 Moons NightClan Senior Warrior Match-ups: Blackwolf vs Sprucefur (draw) Graywolf vs Redbird (Gray wins) Darkstorm vs Magpiewing (Dark wins) Ashfang vs Tigerstripe (Ash loses) Crowflame vs Finchcloud (Crow wins) Hollystorm vs Birchstrike (Holly wins) Try to have the battles wrapped up in no more than three posts. It will end when Sprucefur calls a retreat for TreeClan, and NightClan is left standing victorious in the Branch Trail. Let's not make it a total embarrassment for TreeClan, or else Fawn will shed tears. Other then that, have fun! I will tag williams at the end so Briarthroat can show up and see what's happened.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 29, 2018 22:04:02 GMT -5
I see what's mine and take it. Finders keepers, losers weepers...
Darkstorm’s dissatisfaction with TreeClan’s continued ownership of the branch trail had been brewing for several seasons now. Though she and Ashfang and sometimes others would still make a point to hunt there as though TreeClan hadn’t laid claim to it, the lack of any sort of retaliation by Foxstar was quickly building from disappointment to outright disgust in the passivity of their leader. TreeClan had gone unchallenged for far too long. Retribution for daring to challenge NightClan for territory that rightfully belonged to them was long overdue. As the Gathering patrol left, there was a feeling, a tension that pervaded, like the air before a lightning storm, crackling with the promise of swift and unavoidable fury.
So when Blackwolf called her name, Darkstorm was on her paws in a heartbeat, tossing a glance at her former apprentice as Graywolf was called as well. Six warriors was far too large for a hunting party. Her bright fiery gaze flashed triumphantly as she padded after her mentor. It seemed Blackwolf was fed up with waiting for their leaders to decide on a course of action. Catching Hollystorm's warning to her father, Darkstorm cast a narrowed glare at the older she-cat for doubting her apprentice's ability to hold her own in a fight, lip curling briefly in distaste, but Blackwolf had already rebuked her.
The brisk night air was invigorating, or perhaps it was only the thought of finally doing something, righting a wrong that had been left far too long, like a festering wound. Ashfang nudged her shoulder with his, grinning with anticipation, and she flicked his flank with her tail. They could grin after the battle was won. With leafbare on the horizon, NightClan was going to need all of its territory for the harshest of seasons. Her ears angled forward as Blackwolf addressed the group with his plan, simple though it was. Claws flexing in anticipation, she growled low in her throat, her mind already on the battle ahead. Whichever mousehearted TreeClan cat had the misfortune of being her opponent would not be limping home with their pelt intact, that was for sure.
She nudged Ashfang, “Come on.” She launched herself up the nearest tree until she reached the low, entangled branches hanging overhead, weaving her way carefully over them to a new location, closer to where the TreeClan cats were likely to arrive from. Ashfang followed behind her, finding himself his own place among the trees. Satisfied with her vantage point, she settled in to wait, slow blinking orange gaze sharp, ears perked, and jaws parted for the first taste of TreeClan's stench approaching. She saw them shortly before Blackwolf's warcry sounded, waiting only a heartbeat longer as the rest of the TreeClan patrol came into view before throwing herself from the tree with a furious screech, tackling a black and white tom and clinging to him with sharp claws as they both went rolling before heaving him away with strong hind legs before he could recover from the attack.
Half dazed from the surprise attack, Magpiewing stumbled to his paws under instinct alone, for remaining on the ground would only mean a swift defeat. He barely managed to duck the swipe at his face, claws flashing dangerously near his muzzle, the tortoiseshell she-cat's ears flattened and a vicious snarl contorting her features as he leaped backward and away from her, “My, my, aren't we angry first thing in the morning? Shouldn't you be in your nest?”
Darkstorm's tail lashed as she stalked around him, “I'll sleep well after I send you limping home.”
“Is that what you think is going to happen?” his whiskers twitched with amusement and despite his ruffled and needle strewn pelt, he appeared quite calm and unconcerned, his bright yellow gaze laughing at her. She hissed and launched herself at him, but he was quick, which didn't surprise her given his lithe form, and he managed a quick swipe at her flank before he was swiftly scaling a nearby tree, “You're not the only one that can climb. Tag, you're it!”
“This isn't a kit-game, fleabag!” Darkstorm snarled, hurling herself up the tree in pursuit. His smug laughter raining down on her only served to fuel her rage.
With a thousand lies and a good disguise, hit 'em right between the eyes.
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Post by Taxx on Nov 29, 2018 23:27:44 GMT -5
Watch me, I'll make a name for myself Crowflame had seen this coming for some time; to be honest, she wasn't nearly as bothered by TreeClan owning the Branch Trail. They'd had it as long as she could remember. She was indignant simply because her Clan was, keen to get it back because they were, but she couldn't ever remember NightClan ever actually owning it. But now that it was happening, there was no way she was getting left behind. Win or lose, she was going to add every bit of fighting skill she possessed to getting this bit of land back.
Blackwolf's order was all she needed to leap to her paws and dart after the old black tom as he headed out of camp; she hadn't even minded not being invited to the Gathering this moon. A fight to reclaim their land was more important than listening to cats wheeze about what changes had happened among their Clans since the last Gathering.
She was thrilled at the coming fight, but she kept composure, pacing along with the patrol to conserve energy, even as she gave colorful descriptions as to what she was going to do to the first TreeClan cat she got her claws on to Graywolf, blue eyes flashing with fierce pleasure at the coming attack. Her gaze flicked to her grandfather as he gave his last instructions, giving a firm nod to show she'd heard and watching as Darkstorm and Ashfang leaped up to hide in the trees. For a moment she considered joining them, but she decided against it; she wasn't that good at climbing, and she'd rather not risk a broken leg before the fight even started.
She waited, pacing now and then to keep herself from stiffening up in the cold, going over strategy in her mind over and over, and with the first dim light of dawn appearing in the sky, her excitement began to build once more. It reached a peak when she spotted the TreeClan patrol and Blackwolf's yowl cut through the air a heartbeat later.
Crowflame lunged forward, barely catching sight of the ginger tom's surprised expression before she barreled into him, hooking one of his front paws with one of hers and whipping around to kick his hind legs right out from under him; he hit the ground stretched out on his belly and the white she-cat darted her head forward to sink fangs into his neck only to have him roll away from her, claws lashing out to rake along her cheek before he flipped back to his paws.
"Fight me!" Crowflame yowled at him, ignoring the blood that welled up from the scratches, refusing to take her attention from the TreeClan tom for a moment. She feinted at him, pulling up short and rocking back on her heels as Finchcloud took the bait and lunged to meet her. Leaping on top of him, Crowflame sank claws into his sides and teeth into a hind leg, biting as hard as she could through the thick fur that covered his frame. She was pleased to hear him screech in pain and bit harder; a gasp tore at her throat when the tom threw himself onto his side, her body thudding into the ground hard enough to shake loose her grasp; a blur of ginger fur was all she could see in the next moment as Finchcloud dove at her, closing with her and just about smothering her with his weight and fur. Crowflame NightClan Warrior I won't be just another face in the crowd Fawn @zen Ghost the Undead Goddess || Notes
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"If you're gonna hit it, hit it until it breaks." |
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GaleClan Leader GorgeClan Medicine Cat
INVENTORY
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Post by Ghost the Undead Goddess on Nov 30, 2018 0:56:50 GMT -5
Graywolf NightClan She-Cat 15 Moons The pretty gray she-cat was practically dying to do something once the group of Nightclan cats departed from the camp for the gathering during the Full Moon. From her spot next to her sister, the warrioress was already planning some sort of troubling adventure once Foxstar and Briarthroat weren't in sight.
Made it more fun since she wasn't going to the Gathering.
That is until her grandfather's voice called her voice, pulling Graywolf from her thoughts.
A flash of excitement rippled through those green pools of hers, and it took no time at all for the young warrior to leap to her paws and fall into a trot with the others Blackwolf had summoned, like an old leader within himself. Over half the cats chosen were related to the legendary black warrior.
Finally!
Something to do, and it insured to be quite the adventure.
Ears flickered quickly from one to the other as she heard not only Hollystorm's concern, but Blackwolf's evident belief in Graywolf's abilities caused a warm glow to wriggle under her silky gray coat. Sure, she was a young warrior, young enough to have never even known the Branch Trail to be under anything but Treeclan's control.
But through a united sense of comradeship, Graywolf was as offended as the clanmates that surrounded her about the fact that nothing had been done to ensure that Nightclan would take the territory back.
Not only that, but Graywolf by nature despised Treeclan. She couldn't wait to sink her curved claws into the pelt of one of those squirrel-brains, to show them that Nightclan was the better clan! How satisfying would it be to beat Treeclan in her first battle, and all at fifteen moons.
Watchful green orbs glanced sideways as her former mentor, Darkstorm, scrambled up the side of a tree along with Ashfang. Blackwolf, Hollystorm and Crowflame had split apart from the others also, taking up positions on which bettered them for an ambush. With her body set for alert, the gray warriors slipped near a tree, letting the shadows engulf the slender form.
Time seemed to take forever, but the second Blackwolf let out a battle cry it seemed to practically stop. Silky gray strands along her shoulders fluffed up as her plume bushed behind her, heart thumping within her chest as she shot forwards from her hidden spot among the roots of the tree she had chosen.
Graywolf made her presence known to a ginger she-cat startled and unaware of what was happening. Slamming into the Treeclanner's side, the two young she-cats went tumbling across the ground. Though she was on her feet quicker than the older she-cat with fox like coloring. The second Graywolf made contact with her time seemed to return to normal.
The sounds of cats yowling and screeching around her broke through the silence as blood pumped in her ears. Green vision tunneled to focus on the brightly colored she-cat across from her rolling to catch her footing underneath her.
With her tail lashing around behind her, a low and dangerous growl rolled from Graywolf's chest while her ears laid flat against the curve of her skull. Redbird made it to her paws moments later, her own bushy tail waving around behind her like red flag.
"Surprise!" Graywolf snapped in a sarcastic tone, a smirk faintly pressent on her maw. There was only a few seconds before she launched herself forwards towards Redbird. Fiery amber met dangerous emerald as their eyes met before the red she-cat quickly moved in reaction to the attacking gray feline.
Redbird quickly dodged the offending, outstretched claws of Graywolf before lashing out with a red paw, claws snagging into the thin flesh of the gray warrior's ear. A sharp cry, both pain and anger filled the air as the appendage ripped to sprinkle blood both on Graywolf's whiskers and the ground around them.
Although now was not the time to be vain, a fleeting, disdainful thought crossed the younger she-cat's mind over her torn ear.
A hiss parted from Redbird's maw as she went to strike her opponent again, only to loose her balance as Graywolf ducked to sink fangs into the red she-cat's hind leg. Though, while saving herself from another well aimed strike to the head, she gave her flank opened to Redbird.
Tightening her vise like grip on the Treeclan warrior's leg, Graywolf could taste the faint tinge of iron as blood seeped from the fresh wound of her bite.
A yowl parted from Redbird as she fell to the ground, pain shooting through her body as Graywolf held onto her leg. With a wriggle of her body, she managed to roll and send a side swipe to the gray she-cat's side, finding home and slicing through the fur with sharp, needle like claws.
Releasing her hold on Redbird, Graywolf backed up as adrenaline kept the pain mostly at bay. Her ear throbbed each time it flicked, blood dropping here and there. Even her side was a dull, annoyance while blood stood out against the gray of her pelt. Redbird regained her footing, though put a slim amount of pressure on that injured hind leg.
Perfect. A dangerous fog curled around green orbs as an equally vicious smirk warped Graywolf's maw, victory within sight.
I'm Trouble, Y'all
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Post by Fawn on Dec 1, 2018 17:33:20 GMT -5
BLACKWOLF First, No Sequel do The Math, No Equal Blackwolf squared off against the leader of the dawn patrol. It wasn't Lionstar—too pale, the eyes too green—but Sprucefur was close enough. After his war cry, the branch tail had exploded into six separate fights; a mottled looking tom tried to bolt for the protection of TreeClan's original border, but Hollystorm lunged, her claws sinking into the tom's back legs. He tumbled to the nettled ground with a cry, and that was the last Blackwolf saw of him.
He would acknowledge his kit's good work later.
Sprucefur did not strike first. Rather, he braced himself for Blackwolf's incoming attack. Blackwolf sneered, bicolored eyes full of hunger and retribution. He lunged at Sprucefur, pretending to fall just short of reaching him—his old injury 'acting up'—and the second the TreeClanner's posture shifted, Blackwolf was on top of him.
~*~
Sprucefur was knocked off his feet, grunting in pain as teeth and claws ripped at his hide. It was bad luck to have gone up against Blackwolf of NightClan; the tom was old, almost as old as Lionstar, but it seemed the veteran cats of this forest didn't understand the meaning of retirement. Those rumors had been just that, rumors. Blackwolf's claws were as sharp as ever, his cruelty and thirst for battle just as evident as it had been a dozen moons ago.
Sprucefur finally got his paws under him and threw his weight into a nearby tree, pinning the heavy black bruiser until he felt claws unlatch from his back. His body stung, the only thing preventing him from further damage was that his winter coat had come in already, and the thick mane protected his throat from the sharp points of Blackwolf's teeth. He couldn't trust NightClan to abide by the Code; attacking on the night (or morning after) a gathering?
NightClan cats were going to behave like NightClan cats. So Sprucefur buried any sensations of surprise, tasting blood as Blackwolf came at him again, a paw catching him on the muzzle as he ducked a blow meant for his eyes. Sprucefur hissed.
Blackwolf chuckled, muscles rippling as they circled each other. "They're gonna carry you home in pieces, 'paw."
88 Moons NightClan Senior Warrior
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Post by Deleted on Dec 7, 2018 1:31:22 GMT -5
We came to battle baby, we came to win the war...
Far more nimble in the trees than Darkstorm, Magpiewing stood with his tail twitching for balance, those bright yellow eyes still laughing at her, “Watch your step, now.”
She hissed, leaping carefully to the next branch, closer to him, “As if I need advice from a stinking squirrelchaser!”
The tom mocked offense, edging out to a slimmer part of the branch he was on, “I'll have you know I prefer chasing birds.”
“I don't care!” She leapt for his branch at the same moment he leapt away to another, “Quit running you mouseheart!”
“I actually don't really care for squirrel,” he continued as if she hadn't spoken, “All that tail fur, you know. Really unappealing.”
“Is it your plan to talk me to death?” she snarled, leaping again, and surprised when he did not in turn leap to a new branch. Tail raised, claws sinking into the back beneath her paws, Darkstorm faced the black and white TreeClanner with her lips pulled back to reveal sharp fangs, “Finally.” A low growl rumbled in her throat, “I'm gonna claw that smug look right off your face!”
He chuckled, “Someone needs a nap.”
Ears flattening to her head, Darkstorm's claws dug deeper into the branch to keep herself grounded. If she leapt carelessly here, it wouldn't end well. They weren't high enough that a fall would do any real damage, but it could give him the upper paw if she didn't take him with her. “Someone needs to rip out your tongue,” she retorted furiously.
“What? You're not having fun?” He grinned, “I'm having a great time.”
She hissed again, pushing forward, keeping low to the branch as she edged closer, feeling the branch begin to dip as both their weights were brought closer and closer. He didn't seem keen to do anything but wait, and her tail lashed in frustration. TreeClan cats were insane. A fox-length stood between them and suddenly the tom tensed, bounced, and leapt to another branch. The branch they were on shook from the action and Darkstorm was forced to cling to it hard as one paw slipped off the side momentarily.
Magpiewing tsked at her from his new perch, “I warned you to watch your step.”
A furious snarl tore from her muzzle and she pushed off the branch and right for the tom before her own branch had stopped quivering, aiming low so he wouldn't be able to just duck her. She was done with this game.
She had acted a bit faster than he'd thought she would and he did the only thing he had time for and leapt from the branch and to the ground, tail swiveling as he braced for the impact of the ground rushing up at him. He winced as his whole body was jarred, and shortly the tortoiseshell landed a few paces away, skidding in the fallen needles from her leap. In a heartbeat she was racing for him. He swiped at the ground, sending a spray of needles and dirt at the she-cat's face and she lashed out blindly as she was forced to close her eyes momentarily. Magpiewing ducked away and landed his own blow on her cheek, but was surprised when she didn't flinch away, reacting far too quickly, and simply turned her head with the blow to sink her teeth into his leg before he could pull back, blinking debris from her eyes, blazing with hatred as blood welled at her cheek.
It was as though all the fire in her gaze was suddenly shooting up his leg as she bit down, hard, and he let out a screech of pain and attempted to pull away, but her teeth sank in deeper and it only served to increase his pain. Burning orange gaze flashing with triumph, Darkstorm yanked the tom right off his paws, his blood warm on her tongue, and he hit the ground with a thud that took his breath. As he gasped for air, she released his leg and sank her claws into his shoulder, holding him down as he struggled and brushing her fangs over his throat warningly until he stilled, her voice a low, dangerous growl, “Now limp home so I can get back to my nest.”
Magpiewing wasn't quite sure if he was more amused or annoyed at her turning his words back on him, but the pain in his leg chased the musing away just as quickly as it had come. Wincing as she dug her claws in one last time before releasing him, he scrambled to his paws, holding up his wounded leg. She lowered head head, showing her fangs again, “Or was that not enough fun for you?”
He snorted at that. As if this fight was worth injuring himself further when he was already at a disadvantage. And just like that he had stopped caring about the fight entirely. With a yawn, he flicked his tail and turned, not bothering to even check on the rest of the patrol as he limped away for camp, his tone entirely apathetic, "Very well. You win."
Darkstorm snorted after him, sure that tom must have bees in his brain, and turned to check on her Clanmates. She let out an angry yowl as she spotted Ashfang on the ground, Tigerstripe pummeling him, and threw herself at the enemy tom with renewed fury, “Get your filthy paws off him!”
We won't surrender til we get what we're looking for.
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Post by Taxx on Dec 7, 2018 14:42:31 GMT -5
Watch me, I'll make a name for myself Ginger fur mixed with white, clumps torn from both pelts swirling away as the NightClan she-cat and the TreeClan tom locked in a graceless struggle of slashing claws and snapping teeth. Finchcloud, bigger and stronger, managed to wind up on top, pinning the invading cat on her belly with his fangs locked in her scruff, both panting from the fight, both bleeding from multiple scratches. Crowflame spat and twisted, but she couldn't break free and she couldn't wiggle around to use her claws.
So she tried a trick. Hissing a last curse, she forced her muscles to relax, going limp as if in defeat while she continued to growl at him- acting meek would be too suspicious. It'd be more believable if she showed some irritation toward her losing. She waited, finding it hard not to tense in preparation for when he released; when he began to straighten, his teeth letting go their hold on her scruff and his weight easing off, she struck. She'd have to be quick, she knew, as she rolled to her back, pulling her hind legs in and then lashing out and downward, raking her unsheathed claws through the heavy coat to the skin beneath.
Not wasting a moment, even as she grinned to hear the TreeClan cat yowl, Crowflame slashed with both front paws, tearing at whatever flesh she could reach, forcing Finchcloud to retreat before her before she lunged, sinking her claws into his shoulder and biting down hard on his ear, her free paw scoring his muzzle. A second cry, more of a wail this time, and the tom began to wiggle, hardly fighting back now, only trying to escape.
Crowflame let him go. But, quite unable to resist adding insult to injury, she sprang on him again as he turned to run, landing her weight on his shoulders hard enough to knock him off balance, falling onto his chest and skidding his chin on the ground. "Eat dirt, dungface!" Crowflame laughed, springing off before Finchcloud could flip her off and narrowly missing a halfhearted blow; she watched as the ginger TreeClan tom picked himself back up and ran, fleeing like a frightened kit back to its mother's nest. Blue eyes turned back to the rest of the fight- Darkstorm had sent her own opponent running and was now trouncing another tom. She knew better than to try to intrude on Blackwolf's fight, but maybe Graywolf would like some help?
Darting over, Crowflame refrained from jumping right in, only fixed the ginger she-cat with a cold look from narrowed blue eyes, claws at the ready and teeth bared. "Surely my sister doesn't need help chasing off a mouseheart like you. Am I right, Graywolf?" Crowflame NightClan Warrior I won't be just another face in the crowd Fawn @zen Ghost the Undead Goddess || Notes
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"If you're gonna hit it, hit it until it breaks." |
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GaleClan Leader GorgeClan Medicine Cat
INVENTORY
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Post by Ghost the Undead Goddess on Dec 13, 2018 19:49:20 GMT -5
Graywolf NightClan She-Cat 15 Moons She could feel her blood pumping throughout her body as adrenaline continued to slink around her like a snake curling around it's prey. Ferocious green pools bore holes within her adversary as the fox colored feline of Treeclan stood opposite of her on three good legs.
She had to admit, Redbird didn't give up an inch despite her injured hindleg. The gingery she-cat even continued to face down the younger Nightclan Warrioress, despite the fact that Redbird was clearly at a disadvantage in her state.
That newly shredded ear flicked backwards, sending droplets of crimson splattering around the gray pelted feline as her sister's voice cut through the noise of battle to Graywolf's consciousness, impressed that Crowflame had already taken care of her own Treeclanner.
"Surely my sister doesn't need help chasing off a mouseheart like you. Am I right, Graywolf?"
Redbird's attention was divided with the introduction of Crowflame. Bright green pools darted back and forth between Nightclan sisters, obviously debating on which cat would attack first, unfortunately she made the mistake of taking a single pawstep backwards.
"Is the little birdie scared?" Graywolf teased, already aware that she had won this border skirmish against the red pelted she-cat.
With a flick of her gray plume, Graywolf give her sister a quick signal to show that Redbird was hers. A growl rose within her chest that rivaled her namesake the gray feline shot forwards
Injury slowing her movements, Redbird didn't have much time to turn and dart back into the safety of the wood before Graywolf's body slammed into her once more, except instead of the two being sent sprawled out the Nightclan warrioress sank her fangs into that back leg of Redbird's once more.
A shriek of pain parted Redbird's ginger maw as she tried valiantly to rip herself free of Graywolf's grip. Releasing the Treeclan warrioress, the gray she-cat snapped her jaws once more for effect as Redbird tore off through the undergrowth of her territory.
"That's right filthy Treeclanner! Run away with your tail tucked!" Graywolf yowled proudly after her, the tip of her plume flickering with victory before her bright green pools turned to take in the sight of her sister, also victorious in her own battle.
"And Nightclan rules!" Graywolf gave a purr, despite the hackles that were still slightly raised along her gray coated shoulders. Victory and pride swam within her green gaze as she trotted over to her sister, flanks touching affectionately as the slight rush of pain from her ear suddenly made it's presence known.
I'm Trouble, Y'all
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Post by Fawn on Dec 17, 2018 19:36:06 GMT -5
BLACKWOLF First, No Sequel do The Math, No Equal Every scratch seemed to energize him. Tufts of black fur, peppered with silver, hung from Blackwolf's body as the TreeClan warrior kept him at bay. Sprucefur was quiet, focusing hard to avoid the punishing swipe of Blackwolf's claws. They kicked up leaves, snapped branches in their maddened dance for victory.
Sprucefur dove for his flank, knocking Blackwolf to the ground hard enough to jar the old wound to his hip. Blackwolf's howl turned to hoarse laughter, even as his body writhed under Sprucefur's unexpected attack. Sprucefur's jaws scraped against the enormous scar across his chest, Blackwolf's retaliatory strike all that had kept TreeClan teeth from sinking into his shoulder.
He would not be bested by this TreeClan cat. Claws caught on the tom's face and ears. Sprucefur could not get away fast enough - not before Blackwolf's hind feet found purchase on Sprucefur's stomach and launched the tom into the air. In these few heartbeats of breathing room, Blackwolf sprang back onto all fours, snarling at the lightning bolt of pain shooting up through his leg.
Sprucefur was breathing hard, blood darkening the fur along his muzzle. The TreeClan cat had landed on his feet, but the battle had taken a toll. The tom tried with several frantic jerks to shake the blood from his eyes, but with one half-closed against further injury, watering furiously, it was clear he had lost this fight.
Blackwolf leered; even limping and ragged, his eyes glowed with mad delight. A TreeClan she-cat squealed with pain, racing back into her own territory - after the rest of Sprucefur's patrol.
The pale tom faltered, looking around at the collection of NightClan cats, glaring at him with hostile, gloating eyes. Blackwolf's tail swayed, his posture daring him to try to keep the fight going out of some half-baked sense of pride.
Sprucefur took a step back, searching for any of his companions still present.
"TreeClan, retreat!" Sprucefur found his voice, the order unnecessary as he was the last one to race back over TreeClan's original boundary line, disappearing into the forest.
Blackwolf threw back his head and yowled. The Branch Trail was theirs. 88 Moons NightClan Senior Warrior 354 Words || Tags || Notes williams @zen Ghost the Undead Goddess TaxxBaby I need light, I need fire 42 Moons Warrior NightClan The black-and-white speckled warrior (Birch-something?) was forgettable at best, cowardly at worst. He had slipped free of her claws, but only because she'd let him; the tom didn't even turn around to fight back. The deliberate charge towards TreeClan's original scentline meant he was either a spineless toadbrain, seeking safety on TreeClan soil, or he was going back for reinforcements.
"Sorry," Hollystorm crooned, darting around a tree to block Birchstrike's path, spine arching as she backed him up against the bark. "I can't let you spoil Blackwolf's fun. Or else we'll never hear the end of it." She could hear her father's snarls and laughter. He was in a 'good' mood. An arrogant, manic mood. Hollystorm flicked an ear, believing that the old graying warrior's luck would keep holding out; there was something about arrogance that suited NightClan cats best.
Others said that arrogance was the key to making mistakes. To 'losing' more than you gained. They obviously hadn't met her father. He rarely lost a fight; Greencough couldn't defeat him, not TreeClan, not RainClan, not predator or prey alike.
The only thing that had ever brought Blackwolf low was the loss of Ghostlight.
Birchstrike yowled, trying desperately to fling Hollystorm from his back, but the black feline held on. She felt a stab of mourning, and it weakened her hold slightly. With a disgusted snort, Hollystorm sank her claws in deeper until the TreeClan cat yowled for mercy.
Hollystorm released the speckled tom, shaking tufts of salt-and-pepper fur out of her claws, tail lashing as she closed in. Every time he tried to escape, her claws would catch him - either by the pelt or the leg, and she would drag him back with gleaming eyes and a purr in her throat.
The forest around her moved as the defeated cats of TreeClan's dawn patrol hastened to their camp. Hollystorm let him go - for good, this time - and didn't bother watching Birchstrike stumble away. With her father's victory howl still ringing in her ears, Hollystorm circled back to rejoin their battle party.
She didn't flaunt her victory over Birchstrike, or the role she'd played in keeping this little fight contained. Bragging was for cats like her father. At the end of the day, Hollystorm would go to her nest with the satisfaction that she did not need her deeds verified by others.
Finding Crowflame and Graywolf, she purred approvingly, touching her nose to Crowflame's ear and then Graywolf's undamaged one. A silent act of praise and relief from an aunt to her nieces. 421 Words
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thanks for the two years <3 |
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INVENTORY
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Post by williams on Dec 23, 2018 3:33:25 GMT -5
“They’re not here.” The hiss came from the cat by his side, and Briarthroat felt the words settle across his teeth and slid into his belly like crunching on ice. It didn’t take much of a leap of thought to know who Nettleheart was talking about. The deputy watched his leader continue her quiet, tired trek back to her den, a single-minded process to keep her energy up for the clan as long as she was in their public gaze. The gathering party scattered with their own tired steps to their respective dens, mumbling to the cats who stayed awake to greet them, or to the sleeping cats in apology for breaking the warmth with their cold bodies. He stood frozen for a moment longer, his spine straightening as he automatically stood taller, paws centering under his weight. Anger flared in the ice, splintering it into his veins. “Briarthroat, what are you going to do?” His adopted daughter’s voice broke the shell forming around him. The tom didn’t spare her a glance, but touched her side with his tail to show he had heard her before turning away. There were cats to gather. “We are going to bring them back.” -- The walk was quiet, quiet for Nightclan’s lands. Even the creatures of the forest sensed something was wrong, the party of four leaving a trail of silent steps to break the organic noise of the moving leaves and undergrowth. Thornscar, while pleased to have her skills trusted for this patrol, felt apprehension prickle her paws. Her tail released the nervous energy so she could focus on the task ahead, but every time her eyes slid to Nightclan’s deputy, she felt it return in full force. He set the pace fast, an easy gait for his long limbs to stride. Thornscar and the other party members had to take several steps for one of his, but the tom showed no sign of stopping for breath. They would have to keep up, or be left behind. No one knew what sight they would arrive at, speed was of the essence. They were trusted for this, they couldn’t disappoint him. Briarthroat’s eyes were straight ahead, tail still. He moved like nothing she had seen before. Things in nature moved organically, twisting and turning to match their environment, but Thornscar saw the tom leading them carve a straight path through the forest. He was saving his energy. She couldn’t define what Briarthroat was spilling into the air, not anger, nor disappointment at the party that left to take their land back. He was absent from their gaze and in this moment, she realized she had forgotten why the tom was chosen as deputy. She thought he was too soft to lead them and it seemed to be true as the moons had passed and Branch Trail was in the wrong paws. She was wrong. He cared very much, and that love had been tested. Thornscar swallowed, her gaze jittering forward as they crested the land where the battle would be. Her tail flicked once more as they stopped to survey the forest in front of them. -- The stench of battle was thick in the air, and he heard his companions’ breath heave behind him as it filled their lungs. He was a cat of stone. Briarthroat swept his gaze over the remaining cats, over the undergrowth to track where all the cats had gone. He had heard only moments ago the call of Sprucefur, a Treeclan retreat in progress. Though the smell of Treeclan was strong, there were no visible cats from that clan. They were gone, and Branch Trail could belong to Nightclan once more. They had won. The even-tempered deputy tone reigned strong, cutting into the celebration and demanded respect without raising the volume. “Good work, Blackwolf. Despite your lack of patience, Nightclan can call Branch trail theirs again. Honeywhisker, Nettleheart, Thornscar, begin remarking the border, stay within sight of each other.” His eyes swept across Blackwolf’s party, pinning them in place with an ice none had seen before. Not even the older warriors present had seen this tom angry before. It was foreign on his face but settled easily into the features. He was a warrior after all, and was ready to defend despite his soft exterior. “Darkstorm, Graywolf, Hollystorm, Ashfang, Crowflame. You have been taught better than this. If you are worried by the lack of action from the leaders, you tell them. Darkstorm had, yet,” He pauses his sweep, eyes on her with a bright disappointment. “I still find you here. There are plans in process that can and will be interrupted by going to the senior warriors and giving them the unknown. We are a clan and without that respect, we are no better than the prey we hunt, or the predators that come through. Nightclan will stay strong as long as we are unified. Voice your opinions, do not use your claws to settle matters on your own.” Briarthroat was down at their level by the end of his speech, catching everyone’s eyes at least once as he spoke. It was easy to say the emotion they saw in his eyes was anger. He was angry and frustrated at these cats, but he wasn’t entirely pinning it on them. He and Foxstar had a hard task to keep their clan strong, and they were failing. Nightclan needed strong leaders, and their caution to keep their clan safe had led to this. A mutiny. Continuing with no room for any of the gathered cats to interrupt, “Get back to camp. My party will mark the borders. I will not argue with any of you, nor hear excuses for this behavoir. You have lost my respect by going behind your leaders’ backs tonight. Be as smug as you like, I hope that satisfaction keeps you warm from the disrespect of your decision.” The last of his words appear as a snarl, coloring them with the veiled fury he felt for their insolence. Briarthroat flicked his tail in dismissal, the only gesture he made since leaving the gathering. It looked unnatural in the stillness his frame held. He knew they would be smug, he knew there would be pleasure in having this patch of land back despite his words. It was the Nightclan way. Even he had found those pockets of petty pride to sit in when they had faced difficulties in the past. But this battle held different connotation. They had gone against the leaders in power, and it scared him. If the clan couldn’t trust their leaders and their decisions, would they survive as a clan? Briarthroat lifted his head out of the sight range of the battle party, using his height to effectively cut off any chance of getting him to engage. He had given the order, and expected it to be followed. Anything less would only add to the mess he had to explain to Foxstar when everyone got back. How he planned to tell her was something else to think on, and he planned to do so while the Branch Trail was returned to Nightclan’s lands. ------ Fawn Taxx @zen Ghost the Undead Goddess
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