[lone]

Obsidian certainly hadn't planned to get caught up in all of this. It might have been a mistake, but he'd belonged to the Dusk Syndicate once. He felt he owed them some fraction of loyalty, and if this was what they wanted... he'd find a way to handle it. Relax. This is all you have to do. Perhaps he felt guilty for the way he'd left things before, but at least once this was done, he would be done. This was the last thing he'd ever do associated with the Dusk Syndicate, and he thought it was a good way to leave things. He wasn't as focused on the attack as other cats; but he'd never been as bloodthirsty as them, either. He was used to surviving. This was the opposite of a survivor's move, and possibly the dumbest thing he had ever done. Would Calia have been proud of him for this? Absolutely not. Still, he'd live through it anyways.

(open for injuries; not too severe)

* * *

Being blind, Mistyeyes didn't have a lot of room for mistakes. The slightest misstep could cost her respect, or worse, her life. She'd grown up used to being careful. She'd grown up at a disadvantage, and she'd learned how to live with it. It didn't mean she liked being blind, but at least she could function. Battles were the hardest part. Mistyeyes could feel her heart thumping out a painful beat against her chest, her breathing growing quicker and shorter as she listened for attackers approaching. Survive this, and you'll be fine. It was a lie she tod herself time and time again, hoping that one of these days, she would believe it. If she could survive the next battle, the next day, she would be fine. Relax. She didn't panic often. She had no reason to; she could take care of herself. She had learned how to take care of herself. Battles were another thing altogether, where everything was unpredictable and if she failed, she would die. She wasn't ready to die... not yet.

(open for severe injuries; no fatal ones though)

* * *

Not this again. The last battle Smokestorm had been involved in, he'd been much younger. He still had vivid memories of the death surrounding it, and the last thing he wanted was for something like that to happen again. Rogues were dangerous. He'd known that since he was young, and although he'd been told "be careful, or a rogue could get you!" in a playful manner when he was a kit, he knew there was truth to it. Smokestorm had thought this was over when the Dusk Syndicate had disbanded, its members scattering to places only StarClan could see. Apparently, they hadn't spread out far enough. We can do this. He'd survived worse, hadn't he? He'd survive this too, and hopefully, this time, they'd get rid of the rogues for good. Smokestorm took on a defensive stance, his mind racing with every small battle move he'd ever learned, trying to get a grip on the nightmare that was quickly becoming reality.

(open for injuries; semi-severe, none fatal)