hold your breath, it'll be a while (c)

Feral language
Forest language

Crouched on the wooden planks of the strange bridge-like structure, Vinecrawler peered into the depths of the still water. In the forest territories, ThunderClan had been allowed to share Sunningrocks with RiverClan, though they were forbidden from ever partaking in the fish that swam there. His stomach grumbled in frustration as he swatted the water, never catching anything but too stubborn to try elsewhere. His tail flicked wildly behind him as he watched the water settle once more, swearing he could see the shimmer of a scaled body below it. He was hungry, and Gekala curse him for wanting to try a fish for once in his life! A heavy paw slammed into the water once more, claws outstretched and ready to pierce the flesh he so badly wanted a bite of...

A string of curses in his feral tongue echoed around the muddied shoreline, bouncing off the trees and vines that grew out from the murky waters. He was a great hunter, so why was this so hard? They were right there!

The member 'Flybot' has done the following action : Dice roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 8

The member 'Arcana' has done the following action : Dice roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 2

Feral language
Forest language

"That's not how you do it, y'know,"

Vinecrawler just about jumped out of his skin, his attention so focused on catching the fish that he didn't even hear the tom approach before it was too late. His face scrunched in a snarl at the unwelcomed 'help' he was receiving. The catch was no longer his, the tabby warrior having caught it before Vinecrawler even had a chance. "Do you assume us friends, RiverClanner?" The scents of all five clans lingered on both of their pelts from the long journey, his guess coming strictly from how smooth and confident the tom had been at catching the fish. "Were we kin, this wouldn't feel like such an insult. But we're not. You've stolen my catch from me." Maybe it was the hunger that rumbled in his belly, but the way the RiverClan cat purred next to him as though he had just done him a favor, angered him greatly. Vinecrawler couldn't think of a single other time he had ever been mad in his life - only ever annoyed.

Large paws pushed him up to stand over the cat who had so brasenly crouched next to him, a full head taller. "What is your name?" Burnt umber eyes glowered as he looked down to meet his enemies own green ones, sharp claws slowly unsheathing.

Feral language
Forest language

Hawkshriek. He liked that name, actually. "Hawkshriek - where my ancestors are from - your catch can only be shared with your kin or close friends. And you are nothing but a stranger to me. In their eyes, you have stolen what was rightfully mine." His growl was deep, feral. It lacked the high-pitched tone of a forest cats yowl, and he relished in that. He and his littermates were born strong and of different , something he was reminded of during his sparring with Quailprowler. Besides himself, she was the only one who truly understood that battle was an honorable thing - fun, even - regardless if it was with an enemy or a friend. A fleeting moment of disdain overcame him as he remembered she had chosen to follow StarClan and not Gekala. A pity, but he wouldn't discard her entirely because of it. She was pretty, after all. And fun. But now was not the time to think of that. "Do not hold back with me, RiverClanner. I will not be showing mercy today."

The dock beneath them creaked as Vinecrawler shot forwards, raking heavy paws across tabby body, every movement holding the intent of serious harm. He was not playing around, the growling in his belly adding to the threat.

Vinecrawler used Jumping Strike, dealing 11 damage and costing 8 SP.

Vinecrawler: Feral Ferocity is active. Negates all other clans’ passives.
40/40 HP
92/100 SP (-8)

Hawkshriek:
39/50 HP (-11)
120/120 SP

Feral language
Forest language

To him, this was extremely serious. More serious than Hawkshriek could ever comprehend. Considering the optional death of dying amongst the sick who bled from every hole in their head and sniffled and coughed so pitifully, a battle to the death would be far more worth this miniscule time on earth, wouldn't it?

He yowled as the tabby's teeth sank into his chest, but not out of anger. Excitement, maybe? A real and true battle with another feline, who wouldn't be excited?! He had never felt like this before during spars or scuffles with predators, and it earned a wild and toothy grin. If anyone had known his father, they would definitely call him his father's son. An ugly, unsettling grin that was not born of the forest. Uncanny in looks, even. But there was no spitefulness or malice in him. Even as he slammed his body into Hawkshriek and knocked him into the rickety wooden planks of the dock with intent to seriously harm or kill, it was not from malice. This was just principle. An act condoned by his own gods. A large paw came down to rake claws into soft belly, but the other tom was as slippery as that fish: he writhed underneath him, knocking his legs from under him causing him to tip towards the side of the dock that held nothing but deep, dark water. Vinecrawler was no swimmer. In his panic, he latched his claws deeply into Hawkshriek in an attempt to save himself from the fall, another yowl cut short as his heavy body weighed down the much lighter tom, sending them both splashing into the murky depths. Water flooded his mouth and nose and deafened his ears. He couldn't see much in front of him besides the occasional dark tufts of fur as he used Hawkshriek as leverage to propel himself upward and breakthrough the waters surface. His claws swung around wildly in desperate attempts to find anything to hold onto--

And was successful. Feral claws dug into rotten, slimy wood. The legs of the dock? He wasn't sure. But he clung to them like his very life depended on it; which it very well did. The current in the lake itself was miniscule, should he have fallen in on his own, this would not have killed him. But the sucking pressure of the water underneath the dock threatened to push his head under and hold him hostage in their pitch black depths. The fight was still not over, the RiverClanner most likely finding this to be the best opportunity. Of the two, it would be Hawkshriek who would end up overpowering him. Vinecrawler would not let that happen. He would not be the one dying here. Vinecrawler would not be dying here. He could feel Hawkshriek reaching for his waterlogged pelt. Could feel that the tom had already felt the shift in the tide so to speak. He couldn't allow that to happen. Not when he starved. Not when he had to prove himself a great warrior for Gekala way before it was his time to go. He could smell Death stalking closer, it's paws scrapping the wooden planks of the dock above them both. And it was here for Hawkshriek.

The second Hawkshriek clawed his way up the same wooden pillar, his brown tabby head breaching the waters surface to gasp for air, Vinecrawler had an idea. Releasing one paw of its grip on the wood, he found Hawkshriek's soaked head and sank his claws into his skull in an attempt to loosen the RiverClan toms grip by shoving it back under water, and leave him to the mercy of the dark abyss of shadows that was the underside current of the dock above them.

Belly Rake unsuccessful! Took 5 damage and cost 25 SP.

Hawkshriek
39/50 HP
113/120 SP

Vinecrawler
27/40 HP (-5)
67/100 SP (-25)

The member 'Flybot' has done the following action : Dice roll

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'Effect Dice' : 3

Feral language
Forest language

He watched the water ripple as Hawkshriek fought against him. Unfortunately, the desperation to be alive would not save him from the claws of the God of Death, his soul already primed to be reaped. It was almost... Exhilarating to watch it all happen in real time. A battle to the death that had almost ended in it being Vinecrawler being pushed under the dock, their heavy currents almost creating a cyclone type event. It was over for Hawkshriek. The feral tom scrambled up the rotted wood, hauling his wet body onto the rickety planks. If the ThunderClan warrior followed the path of stars, perhaps he would have felt guilt over what he had done - the tom most likely having family that waited for his return. Gekala, however, did not require that he mourn over the loss of a stranger in a battle that was set to be to the death from the very start. Hadn't they both agreed? If Hawkshriek hadn't wanted this, he shouldn't have fought back. Simple as that.

He did wait for some time, his dense fur slowly drying as the sun rose high and then began to set. Confirming that the RiverClanner hadn't popped out of the underside of the dock, he picked the toms brown tabby fur from his claws and spat them into the water. The water had washed away what minuscule scents remained of the two toms, he noted. Eyeing the fish, he suddenly didn't feel very hungry anymore. His body exhausted from the forced swim. "Death guide you to your god, Hawkshriek." Gently, he picked the fish up in his jaws to go enjoy elsewhere, before drying off somewhere alone and returning to his clan. He no longer wished to eat it and wanted to turn in for the night, but perhaps Quailprowler would enjoy it.

Another name added to his prayers.