pafp BREAKING my BONES ✘ battle assessement

[SMOKESTAR]

He prided himself on many things, but never lose his head to arrogance with rare exceptions; perhaps he was foolish when it came to his grudge against WindClan at times, his distaste for all things moor scented and rabbit fed. There was a reason, however, he survived on the cold streets alone for so long and it was a tenacity he had struggled to instill into his teachings as best he could. Nothing could really substitute the will to survive for motivation, neither ego nor determination could fill the voice that true fear of death could push a cat forward from. Iciclepaw knew he would never harm her in a meaningful way. Cuffs and bumps, shoves and bruises, tossing her around on the ground until she could barely stand for lack of energy or strength; but never anything that would cripple her, kill her, maim her. He could not, nor would not do such a thing, but finding a balance to ensure she knew what the loss of a battle truly entailed was difficult. Their recent tangle with WindClan had shown some of it, Clearsight's death and the near deaths of several others including himself; the blood the spilled that night would linger fresh in every apprentices mind for moons to come. He wanted them to remember it, not wishing their distress but needing them to know. It was survival out here, it was always us or them and a true RiverClanner would fight for 'us' with all the grit and ruthlessness they could muster without hesitation. Even Clayfur, foolish and airheaded, knew what true defeat felt like. To lose like that again and again, it was a warning. A warning they needed more, more claws, more teeth, more able bodied warriors. Their camp was being cleaned, soon they would return, but he wanted to do this now. Here. In this battlefield they had failed in, surrounded by the memories of old copper scents and strewn bodies.
"We're training here today." The dark tom says, early morning rises; he feels the sun warm on his back and wonders if they might end up with an audience. "Get up to the middle of camp." It was a quiet order, not barked with impatient annoyance as most of them but said with the sort of grim tightening of vocals as one might deliver a eulogy. Three black paws and one white carried him away from the dilapidated apprentice den, he hates the way it leans-despises the reminder of the one they still had to rebuild in camp after it nearly buried several of their young trainees.
"Consider this an assessment of your battle prowess thus far, you are to put me down by any means. Claws unsheathed." The moment fire branded tortie markings fall into his line of sight he is speaking, single orange eye burning intently in a gaze sharp enough to cut. "If you do not impress me, I may consider holding you another moon longer." Another moon past this would mean her brothers would be named before her most likely, Steeppaw would also. For while he holds no ill intent to the rest of her littermates they are a farcry from her skill at the moment, still bumbling about like silly kittens while she has waged wars at his side. It was an insult greater than anything he could think of, he knew she loved her brothers, but he knew the blow to her pride at being named after them would sting for her entire life.
"Begin." It is a single word breathed outward like a curse, threatening her and all she valued. If she faltered here it would be before the entire clan, a mark of shame not even he could help erase.

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[Ooc]
-PAFP @iciclepaw
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[iciclefang]

Iciclepaw obeys Smokethroat without question, something the lead warrior has earned not through seniority but through hard-won respect. The tortoiseshell had began her tutelage under the black warrior at three moons, and for nearly eight of those now, she had bucked under his orders relentlessly. When he tells her to rise, with the dawn still gray and rose-tinted above them, she does without questioning him, a flick of her ear the only acknowledgment.

The stoic pair goes to face one another amidst the battle ground she had lost herself in. Where Clearsight had died. Where their blood had drenched the place they call home.

It feels symbolic, though she does not know that is Smokethroat's intention. "Consider this an assessment of your battle prowess thus far. You are to put me down by any means." His command sends a thrill through her. "Claws unsheathed."

Iciclepaw hears his warning, and steels herself against the embarrassment this might cause her. Apprenticed after her littermates, her littermates who have cried at fighting battles and who have only just begun to catch fish. She clenches her jaw at the idea. But is she truly ready to serve RiverClan as a warrior? Is she ready to prove to Smokethroat that she is capable despite her loss to the WindClan lead warrior?

After a few heartbeats, Smokethroat orders her to begin. Iciclepaw understands why he has picked this setting for her test -- she will prove herself before the entirety of their Clan, or she will shame herself. She cannot hesitate. She will not hesitate. The shame of her previous loss still burns hot beneath her fur, and it lights her blood aflame.

White paws leave the marshy earth; her body curves in the air, arced like a fish. Iciclepaw aims to land on Smokethroat's back from his right side; if she's successful, she will immediately dig her foreclaws into his back. As long as she can stay latched on, she will try to use her hind claws to batter his flank with rabbit kicks.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[CICADASTAR]

the beech copse is most oft known for training. soft, supple sands and sparse trees jutting from light undergrowth. a place of sheathed claw and in the previous moons, it had become more than that — a home. a prison, his mind provides, dark smog rolling over the recesses of his skull. he’d spent his hours toiling in silent misery, and as the dawn rises in its pale glory overhead, he bids it a simple not today. in his peripherals he sees them, the duo ever together, a rumbling voice he feels more than hears barking something he can’t quite make out. the mottled leader looks up from where he had been speaking to a warrior, his eyes trailing the two as they move to the center of their sandy clearing, watches close as smokethroat steadies himself stoutly across from his apprentice. the tortoiseshell, at this point, had fought larger, has fought at the risk of her life, but her mentor is as imposing as ever. heavy muscle and barely - healed wounds across his coat, the dark warrior’s lone orange hue settles on her, disregards the bustling of dawn. clanmates are quick to notice, scurrying out of the bounds of their fray, and without them to impede his vision, he sees iciclepaw standing, stony - faced. she seems ready, but searching his mind, the molly had never once shown a doubt in herself. not a moments hesitation, confidence instilled in her very nature. he flicks an ear towards the warrior he’d been speaking with to turn their attention — for the leader is watching, blue eyes unabashedly fixated on the two where they finally launch together, expression void.

˗ˏˋ 𓆩  OOC ✟ VISUAL 𓆪 ´ˎ˗

• i.
  
• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  
  
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, mated to smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 43 moons, ages every 50 posts.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
• 
  
  
  
• "speech"
  

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[WOLFGLADE]

જ➶ Ever since the founding of Riverclan they have not once taken an apprentice. Refusal on their tongue whenever they are mentioned as a potential candidate for one. There are many different reasons as to why they don't want an apprentice. The thought of failing one so young on that list but he doesn't think himself capable of doing it. His own hidden follies laid bare. But he has never given a reason to anyone as to why, simply a no suffices and things move on. Now though he spots a pair, an assessment of battle prowess about to begin and so they decide to watch and see just what happens here. Slipping forward but not close enough to warrant any danger to themselves they settle along the fringes, eyes of the marshes zeroing in on Smokethroat and his apprentice. Truthfully he hopes for Iciclepaw's success as any should. She sees fit and well capable for becoming a warrior. But he supposes only a mentor knows truly when their apprentice is ready. His ear pulls back slightly as he watches, curious but always silent.​

 

[DogTeeth]

Paws tucked under the half-eaten body of a carp, Dogteeth’s bloodied powerful jaws crush and strip scaly flesh as he rests on his side. The early morning patrol he had gotten back from left his paws sore and his fur damp and matted. He stares off into the willows like he’s in a daze until Smokethroat and Iciclepaw’s pelts move to the sandy center of camp. Fishing before sunrise left your bones tired, and your mind easily entertained. Especially, a battle of prowess between mentor and apprentice. The morning was still young, sunlight barely hoisted over the horizon.

Dogteeth missed having an apprentice but he had some self-teaching to do. He props his arm like a bow and arrow as he settles in to watch the pair. Cicadastar and Wolfglade among the swelling crowd, he offers the darker warrior a smirk before looking back unto the fight as it begins. Claws glinting, Dogteeth feels like bugs are crawling on his cheek and eye like a phantom score of needles. His smile drops and he watches in respectful silence. He doesn’t cheer, he doesn’t move a whisker- he’d hate to distract her.

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OOC INFO REF

• —
  
  
• — Dogteeth PINTEREST
  — twenty-eight moons
  — 2023 VOICE & ACCENT
  — warrior of Riverclan
  — gay | crushing on n/a
  — small curly-furred blonde and tan tom with blue eyes.
  — very gentle voice and laugh
  — deals a nasty bite
  BIOGRAPHY——— ✧
  
• 
  
  

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[SMOKESTAR]

Smokethroat feels the pinch of his underside, the scar lancing from chest to belly tightening in anticipation; maybe he should be taking it easy still but frankly a little pain was a good reminder he still had fight in him and he was not going to let his apprentice go untaught. He loathed the few times he had to send her on patrols with others, worried she would be pampered like Willowroot's apprentices or not given the proper experience as cats ignored her or even tried to dismiss themselves from being teachers of any kind.

He was acutely aware of the audience but paid them no mind, his focus instead on Iciclepaw herself entirely. A form of respect, if anything, that he gave her his entire attention for this and did not let his mind wander and also some ego to it as well; he did not train her to be taken lightly. Not even to himself.
Expertly she springs forward without hesitance, he turns but it is not quick enough to aboid the sudden weight thrown into his side and his legs stiffen as he shifts his paws to catch it and remain upright; claws digging into the earth for support as she kicks and if he were any less prepared it might have been done then and there. A good push, plenty of weight to it, but she will not have her victory so easily and so he turns with a sharp pivot, a spin attempt to dislodge her before throwing the entirety of his weight down onto the ground; if she hadn't been thrown before she'd be crushed then unless she managed to worm herself away. Regardless he was standing once more to full height and rising onto back legs to bring his forepaws down toward wherever she might be in that aftermath; his force was contained, he knew how much to push-so she'd find herself plenty bruised but nothing would be broken.
Less they end up with Beesong on both of their backs in time...
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[iciclefang]

Iciclepaw hears the muted conversations around them, feels multiple pairs of eyes burning into her pelt, into Smokethroat's. She refuses to let herself be distracted. Her claws find purchase in Smokethroat's pelt, and she can feel their tips rend his flesh. She feels a rush of satisfaction as she clings to the side of his flank, lower legs kicking out until the steel of his muscles twist under the force of her blows. His pivot is quick and powerful, and she's thrown off by the force of it; she staggers, rather than landing on all four paws, and despite his healing wounds Smokethroat crushes her to the ground with all of his power.

The force of the blow knocks her silly. She sees Silverpelt, despite it being bright with sunlight. But Iciclepaw regains her determination within half a heartbeat; she's crushed flat, pinned like she had been when the WindClan lead warrior had scruffed her.

Iciclepaw digs the claws on her hind legs into the earth and pushes herself forward, attempting to escape Smokethroat by pulling herself through a gap in his body against her's. If successful, she will attempt to nip at his shoulder -- not as though he is an enemy warrior, but with enough strength to relay she is serious about this assessment.

Her body is plenty bruised -- she can feel it already, from where he crushed her against the ground -- but her determination is stronger than any blow he can deal.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[Cindershade]

Her return from her own hunting lesson with Sablepaw had been a success, each of them carrying a fish to add amongst the prey pile. Her newly healed wounds along her neck stretched and throbbed, as did her muscles, from the weight of the trout she carried between clasped jaws. The thumps of bodies hitting the grassy clearing, the grunts of effort and quiet voices feels her ears as she watches the ensemble happening. Sparring within the middle of camp? Cindershade drops her scaly catch amongst the dwindling pile, a tail twitching behind her as she pauses. Her gaze flickers towards her own apprentice in silence before nodding her head for her to follow. Her mind wanders as she traverses towards the trio of felines who observed, Cicadastar amongst them.
She'd settled along Wolfglade while beckoning her own apprentice to follow suit. Why Smokethroat decided to spar here and not outside of camp was lost to her, and she found it bit unorthodox. But perhaps—perhaps there was a deeper meaning behind it. A win amongst the heavy losses they suffered this moon.
"Watch out they fight, Sablepaw. Study their movements." She murmurs towards Sablepaw in a low tone. "Iciclepaw is close to becoming a warrior, and even if she is smaller than he—watch how she learns to combat that disadvantage. She is fierce—just like her mentor. You will be observed for your own skills soon enough."

@Sablepaw
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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​