A Mottle of Crimson [OPEN]

The sky was of a heavy coat of light gray. Storm clouds blanketing the sky as thunder rumbling off in the horizon as Mottleheart stalked though the moor. His pawsteps were heavy, his shoulders sagging as he stared up at the sky with flat ears. For him, it felt so hard to be cheery and upbeat when he couldn't see the sky or feel the warmth of the sun on his pelt. He missed the light blue that so often hung above his heads and the shadow of the coming storm did little to lighten the mood. But that would not stop Mottleheart from doing his duty as he tasted the air for rabbits.

It didn't take long until a movement caught his attention, a light brown focused on digging in the ground. His ears flickered as he studied the creature, judging how to take action. It was rather chubby - there was little doubt that he could out pace it easily as he turned to face it. The rabbit seemed rather keen on what it was doing, as long as Mottle didn't make a noise he was sure he could sneak up on it. He dropped into a crouch, bunching up his muscles before he sprang forward across the moor. He failed to take notice of the shadow that was on the same path.

His paws skimmed the ground as he moved across the plains in a blur of speed. He almost wanted to laugh as he felt the wind race though his short pelt, feeling so alive when he was running across the moor that even the darkness of the oncoming storm seemed to disappear from his thoughts. But he had no time to feel like a kit, he was a warrior and he had a job to do. He was on the rabbit in an instance, pinning it to the ground quickly as he killed the rabbit with a quick bite to the neck. As it went limp in his paws, he drew back to stare at his kill with a satisfactory grin. It would do well to feed the queens and elders. But before he could pick it up, he was sent crashing to the ground as a screech filled the air.

Sharp needles dug into his side as he nailed the ground hard, all his breath leaving in a quick second. Pain. Oh StarClan the pain. He squirmed in the grip of his attacker. His gaze snapped up as a shadow fell over him, his eyes wide with horror as the eagle that pinned him down spread open its wings, ready to take to the air with him in tow. He had heard stories of eagles carrying off cats but had never thought he would see one. He twisted despite the searing pain that it bought upon him, lashing out with his claws until the eagle finally drew back and let him free.

He clambered to his paws as his fur stood on edge, arching his back as he backed away terrified of the bird of prey that screeched at him once more. Mottleheart's breath came quickly, his eyes wide with terror as he struggled to take in all that was happening. Everything was simply to much. He had never been in a fight before...He had never felt pain before. The thick, rich scent of his own blood wanted to make him gag as it dripped down his side. But despite the terror that dug into his heart like the eagle's talons, he stood his ground as he swallowed the fear. The eagle would be a threat to WindClan - he had to kill it.

And so as the eagle attempted to take to the air for a better attack, Mottleheart forced his paws forward. Rearing onto his back paws, he slashed at the eagle's underbelly as blood and feathers were sent flying. The eagle screeched, its wings beating hard as it tried to draw away and returned his blow for one of its own - its talons scraping across the side of his face. He was forced backwards from the blow, the scent of blood growing stronger. He coughed at the rich scent that threaten to overwhelm him while the pain left him light headed. How? How did his Clanmates...How did the other Clans stand to deal causing this pain on each other? Perhaps it was due to the thick of combat, perhaps it was the scent of blood but the simple idea of dealing this pain on another cat caused him to be sick to his stomach.

But there was no time to think about that. He dropped into a crouch as he met the black, beady eyes of the bird of prey before he leaped at it with a hiss. His paws struck the creature's wings as they were both send careening to the ground with a sicking crash. The eagle took the blunt of it, Mottleheart's landing soften by the bird of prey's body but it still left him dazed. He shook his head as he dug his claws into the eagle's shoulders as it thrashed in his grip. He pulled back, slicing at the eagle's face with his claws in an effort to stun it before lunging forward, teeth bared and ready to sink into its neck as the eagle lashed out blindly.

Mottleheart's teeth never made it. His whole body grew ridge, his mouth parted in an soundless yowl as unimaginable, unbearable pain laced though him. The warrior's grip grew weak, his whole body swaying as he fell from the eagle and onto the cold, unforgiving moor. His breath was shallow and weak, full of effort to draw every painful breath as he watched the eagle draw itself to his talons. It underbelly and talon were stained crimson as the only thing that Mottleheart could smell was blood. He couldn't smell the rabbit that he knew sat only a few tail-lengths away, he couldn't smell the eagle that was struggling to pull itself together so that it could no doubt finish him off. All he could smell was the pool of blood he found himself, oozing from the gaping wound in his stomach caused by a lucky blow from the eagle.

Was this it? Was he going to die? Mottleheart found himself unsure on his feelings those thoughts as he laid there. Perhaps it was shock but he found himself having trouble drawing on emotions of how to feel. And so he laid there, tensing and relaxing his outstretched paw in a pitful effort to do...Something. Even he wasn't sure why. But he came to realize that there was one emotion that stuck out to him even in this moment. Regret. He had so much regret. He had he been a good warrior for Ashstar? He wasn't sure...But he knew he could have been a better father to his daughters and he still greatly regretted how things had fallen out with Brindlewhisker. In his fleeting moments, he was simply left to lay there with his regrets as even the pain that ebbed though his body seemed to fade from his thoughts.

Battle log:

OOC: MOTTLE WILL LIVE. I just wanted to give him another reason to be so against fighting, realize some of his regrets, and also...Scars are cool. He does kinda need somebody (or two) to come save him because he is currently bleeding out. But I don't want a lot of people piling on the eagle. Once Mottle gets dragged back to camp for Beetlepaw to look at him, more people can join.

Brindlewhisker had spent the day searching for more moss and heather to add to her rather pitiful nest in the makeshit den that all the Warriors were sheltering in for Leafbare- she had made several trips back and forth from the Gorge, and she was in the mists of her final trip when a dreadful screeching filled her ears, and the sharp, rustic tang of blood filled her nose. Nape fur bristling, she dropped the pitiful collection of moss and heather she had worked so hard to gather and broke into a brisk jog, desperately searching for the source of the sound and scent. As she raced up a ridge, the horrid hot and heavy stench of blood grew heavier on her tongue, and she was soon rushing so quickly that she nearly fell flat on her face as her paws clumsily bumped rocks and roots. The noise and scent was stronger near the top of the ridge and once she finally climbed the ridge, she staggered to a halt at the sight- A grounded, clearly wounded Eagle and an oh-so familiar brown and white pelt curled up a few tail lengths away, white fur stained dark red.

Fear wormed its way into her chest, tightly grasping her lungs at the sight of Mottleheart so terribly wounded- and for a split second she was struck with the terrible idea that her former friend was dead. Distraught filled her to the very brim at the thought of Mottleheart dying before she ever had to apologize for the things she had said and the way that she had behaved. However, as she stood there gawking at the sight and entranced by horrid thoughts, she was able to see that one of his paws was twitching sluggishly; so he was alive! Relief gave way to a newfound motivation, and she suddenly found herself fully returned to reality. With a challenging yowl, Brindlewhisker raced forward and leaped, slamming into the feathered creature with such force that it winded her slightly, and the pair went sprawling further away from the injured Mottleheart. Dropping all the skillful moves and techniques she had been taught as an apprentice, she lashed out blindly with both tooth and claw, doing her best to inflict as much damage as she possibly could in the moment, surrounded by the foul scent of Eagle and blood.

Breaking away from the Eagle, she spat out the coarse feathers as she went stumbling back from the winged creature. Turning on her heels, she quickly raced back towards Mottleheart, leaving a trail of small feathers in her wake, nearly slipping in the thick, viscous puddle of blood that was pooling around the fallen warrior. Brushing her nose along his cheek, she gave him a rough jolt before hissing, "Mottleheart- can you hear me?"- but it was to of no avail, he was too out of it. Flashing a panicked glance over her shoulder at the Eagle, she let out a grumbled curse as she frantically ran through different plans in her mind. "He's too heavy to carry back! And there's no way I could get him back to camp without the Eagle following us and attacking us the entire time!" She reflected, doing her best to swallow back her apprehension as she glanced down at Mottleheart- and then it hit her. Gathering up Mottleheart's body the best she could, Brindlewhisker crouched protectively above his body- sure it wasn't the best defense as the Eagle could just land on her and squash them both, but at least this way she could still defend him in case it decided to pursue weaker prey! Glancing down at his partially hidden face, she silently willed on the fact that her former friend wouldn't die of blood loss from an Eagle of all things, before redirecting her attention towards the feathered foe. "Go ahead and try to make another move and I'll kick your feathered butt from here to beyond the Highstones!" She spat, hackles raised as she stared at the Eagle, extending a forepaw to slash at the air for emphasis, even though she knew very well the Eagle couldn't understand the verbal threat..



Brindlewhisker used Jumping Strike, Dealing -10 In Damage, Costing -20 In Stamina.

Brindlewhisker
45/45 (HP)
140/160 (SP)

Eagle
25/60 (HP)
170/200 (SP)

The eagle squawked in surprise as weight was suddenly thrown into it, flapping its wings as it tired to distangle itself from the vengeful she-cat that appeared from nowhere. Claws and teeth dug into its feathers until finally the she-cat leaped away to check on her fallen comrade, the eagle watching with narrowed black eyes as if to judge what to do. It stared at her, failing to understand her words as she placed herself over the brown and white tom but her pose gave it enough idea of the threat she had spoken. Its feathers ruffled, its pride wanting to finish off the tom that had so brashly fought back but its eye landed on the rabbit that had started this whole thing. And it decided in that quick moment that it like food much more then fighting. The eagle flared its wings, snatching the rabbit that Mottleheart had fought so bravely to defend before taking into the air with a screech. And in a shower of bloodied feathers, it was gone.


When the eagle screeched in sudden surprise of the attack, Mottleheart's ears flickered weakly. Perhaps...Perhaps he wouldn't die. He couldn't tell who it was, his mind far to foggy to tell from the yowls of combat. He shifted slightly in an effort to get a better look but it sent a sharp flash of pain causing him to moan softly. And so he laid there until he heard the faint sound of paws and a figure appeared in his vision. The blue eyes, the white face...For a second, his heart sank as he saw the image of his mother and feared that she had come to take him to StarClan but then he noticed the gray that lined the she-cat's fur and the panicked voice that he had missed so much. The words she said were hard to make out but still his mouth moved slightly in a breathless, soundless whisper of the she-cat's name. 'Brindlewhisker.'

There was a faint spark of hope that flared again. He could survive...But then he felt his whole body relaxed. Everything...Everything was to much. The pain, the overwhelming scent of blood...He just everything to disappear, for it all to stop. He didn't react when Brindlewhisker placed herself defensively over him nor when the eagle took off with the rabbit he had caught. How could he? He was so weak and everything seemed not to be there. He was in his own little world as everything that was happening seemed so far away. He knew he was blacking out but despite his wishes for it to stop, he fought it. There wanted to see his daughters' faces again, he wanted to see Ashstar...And so he clung to that simple strand of consciousness fearing that if he let it snap and fade into the blackness...He would never wake up again.

Beetlepaw's eyes widened at the sight, the scent of blood so thick, damping over the peaceful moorland like ghe sudden change of wind that announced a storm. The next moment his paws were flying over the distance separating the two cats from himself. I am the medicine cat. I have to do something. his mind worked tirelessly as he thanked StarClan that he was gathering cobwebs. The fine sheets of web made him weary, as he wondered whether he could stop the bleeding with only them. But soon enough, he was by Brindlewhsiker's side, or more likely hidding behind him, pressing cobwebs impatiently upon one of Mottleheart's wounds that was bleeding severly from his flank. The warrior seemed barely conscious, and Beetlelaw's heart hammered in his chest at the idea of losing him. Withnmore determination, the medicine cat pressed more cobwebs on the wound, finally feeling like the blood was no longer seeping so hard over his dark paws. Exhaust swept over him alongside worry as he searched with his wide yellow eyes around himself, hoping he would see some more herbs that he could use fast to help his friend. His paws itched as he sighted a clump of goldenrod caught his eye. Yes! he murmured happily to himself as he darted past Brindlewhisker's protection and into the open.

The moment of joy was short as the eagle swooped away from the she-cat and targetted the medicine cat. Beetlepaw tried to roll away from the talons, but he could feel a seating pain down his spine as he was claws by the huge bird. Gasping for breath, he struggled up and slided to grab the goodenrob just in time to dodge another attack. He backed off, his eyes betraying fear as he was behind Brindlewhisker again. Hot blood dripped on his back and the loss made him dizzy, but he knew that the scratch was nothing compared to Mottleheart's severe condicion, which brouht him back to the white and brown warrior that lay before his trembling paws. He began chewing the goldenrod, his back tense as he applied the poultice on the worst of the warrior's wounds. "Brindlewhisker, I need to keep him stable. Can you hold that eagle off?" he asked the she-cat.

ooc) aight so in Badge's last post, the Eagle's health dropped to the halfway mark, meaning that Brindle was able to drive it away. We're just going to disregard the bit about Beetlepaw being attacked since it had already left cx


Brindlewhisker spat out the last remaining feathers that clung to her muzzle and lips, watching with narrowed eyes as the defeated Eagle climbed higher and higher into the sky until it was nothing more than a mere speck. Clearly it had understood her threat to a certain extent, as it had enough sense to flee before she killed it. Relaxing her stance, she awkwardly stepped away from Mottleheart's slackened form, doing her best to not disturb Beetlepaw's delicate work. Now that the heat of the moment was over and she had caught a glimpse of the wound on Mottleheart's belly, she found herself completely helpless in the situation. She sidestepped the Medicine Cat apprentice to crouch closer to the tom's head, belly tightening with nausea at the scent and sight of blood. "You're so, so, so mousebrained! Taking on an Eagle by yourself like that- didn't you learn anything from training? You could of been killed!" She grumbled, focusing more on Mottleheart's face as she knew if she looked down to where Beetlepaw was working, she'd certainly retch up her last meal- she could handle a battle, but not the aftermath. Settling down into a more comfortable position, she began to gently lap at Mottleheart's disheveled fur- she had often seen Queens tending to their injured or sick kits in such a manner, and it always seemed to relax them to a certain extent.

Stealing a glance over at Beetlepaw, she continued to smooth down stray fur away from Mottleheart's face, gently pushing tufts of fur back into their proper places, "What now? Can we take him back to camp?" she questioned the apprentice between her gentle grooming. Lifting her eyes towards the cloudy sky, Brindlewhisker found herself scanning for the Eagle once more; although she was fairly certain it would be much too weak to return and try to fight once more, it was clearly confident in its own ability to attack cats. "Hopefully Ashstar or Smokepelt send a patrol to try and hunt it down- what would of happened if it had gone after an apprentice?!" She thought, distressed at the scenario that took place in her head. "If we don't go back now, we might get caught out in the rain." She added, briefly looking up once more at the swollen, grey clouds that hung heavily above the trio. "I don't know anything about tending to wounds, but I seriously doubt that leaving Mottleheart out in the rain will help him at all. Especially when Leafbare rain is so cold!" She reflected with a pang of anxiety, looking over towards Beetlepaw for guidance, nose wrinkling slightly at the pungent scent of herbs, blood, and sweat.

If Mottleheart could truly bring himself to think, he would realize that he was in shock. Everything was numb. The sounds, the pain...Everything wasn't there for the dying tom. But even his thoughts were numb, foggy. His mind was fading into darkness, the strand of consciousness that held him to what the others would call 'awake' even in his numb state were fraying. He wasn't aware of Brindlewhisker fretting over him or Beetlepaw's hurried attempts to patch up the ghastly wound on his stomach. His chest heaved as his body struggled to deal with the lost of blood but slowly as the WindClan medicine cat used the cobwebs to patch up the large wound, his breath became ever so more even...Ever more stable. Perhaps it was this, a faint knowledge that he had a chance to survive - to see his kits once more that allowed that final strand to snap and his mind slipped completely into the darkness. But yet his chest rose and fell, he was still alive. He would survive this.

OOC: Alright, Mottle is now out of the topic. Do not wait for me to post anymore. I will be keeping tabs on this topic still of course tho.

Beetlepaw's eyes shot wide as Mottleheart's own eyes closed, but the regular lifting and lowering of his chest gave the medicine cat apprentice new strenght to continue. It wasn't all hopeless, and if it were just the thinnest chance that Mottleheart will live, he was willing to give anything for him. Come on, you were always the strong one, come on! he thought furiously over the warroir's limp body. Trying to clear his anxiousness as the goldenrod poultice was soon finished, he turned back to Brindlewhisker. He had more supplies in camp, but moving the massive mottled tomcat was hopeless for a medicine cat all by themselves. Beetlepaw grabbed his rump, tugging hard to move him, and motioned Brindlewhisker to take hold of Mottleheart's scruff. Blood was still dripping from smaller wounds, and with his nose burried deep in the warrior's pelt, his stomach turned as all of the blood coated his muzzle and face.