like a jury needs a liar ↷ [ SPARRING ]

[smogstar]

A changing of the season, and a change in apprentices. Shimmerpaw has either shed his mortal coil or called it quits on this clan gimmick, and Pitchstar - without allowing so much as a moment of respite - has assigned Sharppaw to serve under the tom's wing. Oh, how he was a fur's-length away from kicking up a stink during that meeting. Without the invitation to intrude on ThunderClan as a distraction, he would have swiftly exhausted the warning he received.

As he isn't fully aware of his new subordinate's grasp on hunting, combat, and the like, Smogmaw's pickings are slim. On one paw, he can return to square one and walk the kid through all the basics, an idea which leaves an unlovely taste in the mouth. Or, he can take a gamble on Rainshade's teachings and only emphasise the exciting parts.

Recent events have altered today's lesson plans. The paradigm has shifted, unbeknownst to most. The news of Emberstar's demise remains to be made public, leaving only him to ponder the ramifications of it. Would her replacement's novel style of leadership bring newfound tensions into existence? If so, is everybody prepared?

And so, it is on this drizzly, disgusting day that Smogmaw chooses to host a sparring session. Sharppaw has been given the instruction to scope out those who were interested and send them to the Burnt Sycamore. The underbrush surrounding the dead tree was an optimal training environment. It also gave him some wiggle room to save his own ass should anybody get hurt.

A raspy 'ahem' marks the arrival of familiar faces. "Alright," he begins, "we've been at each other's throats ever since we started going hungry. Might as well be productive with it." He yawns, putting his pearly off-whites into full view. "Claws should be sheathed, and be mindful of where you bite," continues the male, combing over those who bothered to show up. They all knew the drill. Square up with someone, show them the what-for, and go home relatively unharmed.


// no need to wait for @SHARPPAW. ! ​

 

[Starlingheart]

Starlingheart is well aware of how ShadowClanners expected their apprentices to spar, had even experienced it firsthand back when she had been Starlingpaw, Pitchstar's apprentice instead of Bonejaws, albeit her time with the paw suffix had been short both ways. Still, upon hearing there was one to be held she grabs a small bundle of herbs and cobwebs just in case and makes her way to the Burnt Sycamore with the others.

Upon her arrival, she finds a comfortable place to set up shop and she settles down in the moss with her bundle placed gently in front of her, her paws go under her belly, and her tail sweeps around to curl against her small, thin body. It was cold out today, she hoped that this wouldn't take long and she could quickly get back to her sheltered and warm den, where the wind didn't threaten to freeze her in place. "T-try try not to be beeee too r-rough" she says to no one in particular, her mind on her already threadbare herb stock as she speaks. She could not afford to use what little resources she had on injuries caused because someone got too carried away in training.
​

 

[SNOWMASK]

Really she hardly knows anything. The woman hasn't had time to ask nor has she really wanted to. She is worried about other things, worried about her kits, worried about this place. What it means to be a Shadowclanner. It's almost terrifying and maybe she is scared of the influx of information she has to be imparted with. Still she is trying her best and taking it day by day. With eyes constantly watching her and she feels stuffy. It's necessary she knows but sometimes she wishes she had time for herself. As she steps over muddied ground and takes her time with following the others that have been collected. When she does get to the tree her eyes widen and she wonders just what happened here. For a moment her silvery eyes are only for the tree and then she hears Smogmaw. Her tail curls as she watches the tom, his words a little daunting. They have been at each other's throats? Has it been that bad?

Frowning the woman looks towards the child she remembers from her joining and she smiles lightly. A gentle purr in her throat, a slight look of confusion as she looks at the plants she carries. Yeah, she has a lot to learn and she looks back towards the pair as they discuss being careful where they bite. Were they going to fight? "Um....can I just watch?"​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

the deputy was a fighter. it's what they did. it's what made them feel good powerful. they had more knowledge in their fighting skills than they did in their... diplomatics. they weren't political. they didn't care about anything like that, yet they had to learn. still, that a problem for a different chilledgaze on a different day. they needed to get some of these emotions off of them. geckoscreech made a lovely sparring partner, but she hadn't been feeling all too well. it was to be expected. this leafbare had lost them many, and shadowclan looked like skin and bones, worse than alleycats living on tiny twoleg scraps. still, they needed to be prepared for possibly repercussions to prey stealing. had they been sneaky enough, which shadowclan was pretty good at, they could get away with it. hopefully, this worked out.

"let's get this started. what a great way to see if you all have been keeping up on your training, despite leafbare."

​

[ NOBODY ELSE MATTERS, GIRL ]​

 

[FERNDANCE]

It had been some time since Ferndance had offered to spar with anyone, she enjoyed it just as much as any other activity that let off steam, but fewer and fewer animals had wanted to spar with her as of late. They all wanted to conserve their energy to scout for the few measly scraps of prey still left in ShadowClan land. The ticked tabby understood the reasoning even if it made her mindlessly bored in her downtime, bored enough to find other paths of mischief to take. She moved forwards as Smogmaw called for a spar, coming to a halt close to Melisandre. Emerald eyes were enlarged with curiosity, and anticipation for the events ahead causing her tail to gently sway with the breeze around the sycamore. Ferndance reclined on her haunches primly, an agouti hind leg raising to her flank to scratch at a nagging itch. She supposed she did have one sparring partner as of late, the fleas.

​

 

[Halfshade]

Halfshade did not look like a fighter. She held herself with poise and cleanliness, the idea of rolling around in the dirt did not seem something she was fond of but what most of ShadowClan tended to forget was her elegance was a preference that she worked hard to maintain. It was not an indication of daintyness nor weakness, she had been a street cat first and foremost born in concrete wastelands surrounded by starving cats committing wars over the most meager scrap of prey. If anything ShadowClan was a step up from her birth home, perhaps not so her later dwellings but those crumbled as most kingdoms did when ruled by foolish men with even more foolish ideals. She was competent, capable of defending herself and moreso and alarmingly bloodthirsty when pushed enough so she had trotted along to the scene eagerly and with a chipper demeanor despite the seriousness of the ordeal.
Starlingheart asks them to be mindful, echoing Smogmaw's only restrictions but with a more meek demeanor; she would normally argue against holding back but for the dear little healer she would permit it this once. No need to stress the poor girl further.
"Not a worry, little bird, we'll play nice~ Or as nice as some of us are capable of being!" Clan full of assholes that they were. Chilledgaze is there, boring as ever and her mismatched gaze ignors them to dance over to the new molly who had joined. Tornadopaw's mother apparently, how interesting!

"No~" She answers Melisandre with a coy and blunt purr of amusement, the newcomer was probably the one they needed to train the most of all if she was to be of any real worth to the clan and the last thing ShadowClan needed was another freeloader. They had enough as it were. Halfshade turns to regard Ferndance with a nod as the flearidden she-cat ambles over and wriggles in place, at first making her believe she was preparing to pounce but no-supposed that was one way to handle an itch. Silly girl. "Why don't you fight me, Meli-do you mind being called Meli?" She didn't actually care, "Come then, what fighting experience do you have? Enough to make a good show?"
​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

† Shimmering silver, wary eyes follow each and every face that appears. She hadn't known, hadn't expected to gain the attention of so many. Who would listen to her? Babbling, crooked, moping, no-good. A waste of time surely, to scurry after her. No longer did he have the formidable face of her mentor behind her. It was only... Smogmaw.

And with each face past the horizon, she can only draw tense. Battle-ridden, Halfshade along with the deputy. The latter of whom speaks of progress. (Was that aimed at her? Sharppaw, who hadn't managed to snag a single piece of prey?). A strange (and irksome) sight can with the appearance of Ferndance. A not-so-welcome face in the gaze of Melisandre, smoked silver. Prissy... She reminded him of a kittypet.. No, she does not hide it. She wants to watch, when she should be learning more than any of them. Uncomfortably, Sharppaw shifts, unable to help the slight grimace setting at her jaw. Starlingheart shows her face as well. (Already better than Bonejaw would ever be) Watchful, eager to help, even if she could not. (How useful could you ever be, trying, but never succeeding?)

Halfshade was kind. ...Or was it the opposite? An offer, only so she could show her what's what. Her purr is sweet as always; dual-toned gaze unassuming. What could he possibly do? Sharppaw breathes. A tilt of his head. He can never quite meet Smogmaw's eyes. "Wh-who should I...?"​

 

[smogstar]

Familiar faces come into the fold one-by-one.

Starlingheart is met with an insignificant nudge from the tabby's head, hardly a nod, but more than outright ignoring her. Having the medicine cat on standby takes a load off his mind for obvious reasons, yet he isn't convinced that she'll serve as anything beyond an audience member. A similar gesture is spared to Melisandre, or Meli, who also establishes herself as an onlooker straightaway—the molly isn't doing any justice to her assimilation attempts by sitting out on clan activities.

The tom breathes a little easier when the deputy emerges from the mist. Dipping his head to address them, Smogmaw is relieved to finally have someone in his presence willing to spar. Ferndance's familiar form follows suit, joining the crowd on eager paws, as does the newfound apple of his eye. His gaze admittedly lingers on Halfshade's for a considerable length of time, but it breaks from her mismatched hues when his apprentice finally makes the scene.

"Could see if Starlingheart or the newcomer'll square up," the larger warrior responds, meeting the kid with a sidelong glare. Again, his frame of reference for her abilities is non-existent; assuming Meli is given some room to breathe, or the medicine cat opens up to a little bit of scuffling, he can at least try to gauge Sharppaw's confidence. "Otherwise, just wait for another apprentice to show up," he says, assuming the invitation to spar had been extended to a younger demographic.

Mud-coloured eyes then skim over the other warrior-aged cats in their midst, trying to scope out potential opponents. Chilledgaze is hastily marked off the list, given their level of authority and capacity to punish him as they see fit. Halfshade too is omitted, as his preferred level of contact with her was of the softer sort.

By the process of elimination, he makes his mark. The tom, without uttering so much as a word, embarks on brisk limbs and hurtles towards the brown ticked tabby. He promptly launches himself at Ferndance, paws outstretched and aiming to tackle her to the ground.



// ATTACKING @FERNDANCE !!!!! ​

 

[FERNDANCE]

It seemed she had misconstrued who was sparring who. She watched as Smogmaw ran past his apprentice, past the warrior whose eyes lingered on him, even past the Deputy... directly towards her. Perhaps it should've been obvious from the way the mackerel tabby spoke, but she had not been paying much attention to that - the words were inconsequential, it was the entertainment that watching action provided that the ticked tabby had been anticipating. Green eyes briefly flash with alarm before they settle with a beguiled glint, what was better than being witness to a spar? Being the one chosen to do it. Her raised hindpaw slammed against the ground like a rabbit's, the only movement she could make before Smogmaw's body slammed into her own. She didn't put up any resistance. Regardless of what the clan said, sometimes it was best to fight on one's back. All four paws could jab into the opponent then, though, she understood how easy it would be to be killed in such a state. Deciding against proving a point, the ticked tabby went with his momentum and pushed her hind legs upwards as her shoulders impacted the ground, hoping to throw Smogmaw over her head with her kick less than gentle. It would serve no one any purpose if she decided to be nice to Smogmaw this session, especially Smogmaw himself, who likely wouldn't offer her that courtesy either.

[ teehees ; @smogmaw ]


​

 

[SNOWMASK]

The woman's ears pull back against her skull at the resounding no that leaves another's maw. The former loner turns her head in the other's direction and she puzzles over the molly, looking over her two tone fur and listening to the way she purrs after her answer. Meli keeps her frown simply because she is unsure but she also doesn't like being pushed into an activity she hardly knows anything about. "No, I don't mind being called Meli." It is a given and common nickname and all the same it sounds natural to respond to. Shifting her paws the pale and ebony newcomer makes a small face, shifting away from the crowd just a bit more. "While I appreciate the whole...idea of a show. I do much prefer to watch how these trainings and sparrings are held. Perhaps another time will be better." She smiles then, not timidly or meekly but with a measure of gentleness.

It then shifts from her face as she watches Smogmaw attack Ferndance. Her eyes widen just slightly but she merely watches in earnest, taking in their movements.​

 

[Tornadopaw]

If you don't like me, that's your problem

The sound of rough and tumble fighting alone draws the apprentices attention immediately. Citrine eyes widening slightly at the possibility of her own matchup if there were any spots left. She lived for moments like this, the thrill of a good fight. A grin lay plaster across ebony lips, watching as Smogmaw moves to launch himself at Ferndance, only for the molly to retaliate herself. The girl brushes herself against Melisandre briefly before turning to address Starlingheart's nervous request. "I'll try, but I can't make any promises." Restraint was still a work in progress. Turning her attention upon dark furred apprentice across from her she called out to them. "Hey Sharppaw, I'll take you on." Tornado voices over the current scuffles taking place..​

When I let it bother me, that's my problem​

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[ADDERJAW.]

( ➳ ) The sound of fighting draws Adderjaw like a moth to a flame. A scufffle, maybe? Tensions have been so high lately that she wouldn't be surprised. The lack of food has them all on edge. Upon approaching, though, it seems the fights are far more good-natured than that. Sheathed claws, while not as exciting, certainly are preferable when it comes to clanmates. Can't have ShadowClan tearing themselves apart, after all.

Adderjaw gives a curt nod of acknowledgement to the deputy, before being drawn in by the spectacle of Ferndance and Smogmaw's fight. Damn, they are not holding back. Good. Hopefully that'll set the tone for the rest of the sparring sessions; practice should be taken as seriously as any fight, if it was going to actually matter.

The group gathered is small, and Adderjaw finds herself drawn towards the two other warriors not yet occupied by a fight. Halfshade and the newcomer. To say Adderjaw wasn't fond of the newcomer would be an understatement; her usual distrust of outsiders has only been magnified by the molly's prissy attitude, and now seeing her brush off the idea of sparring, as though she doesn't need it more than any of them... The tabby bares her teeth in a snarl. Well, Halfshade can be nice about it all she wants. Adderjaw is not so kind.

"C'mon, Meli," Adderjaw says lowly, approaching the molly. The nickname is spat from her mouth with nothing short of malice. She itches to swat Melisandre at the least, start a fight whether she likes it or not. Adderjaw has decorum, though. "You're ShadowClan now. Can't just sit and watch. Another time, sure, you can say that all you want. But right now? Everyone just thinks you're scared. Not much of a ShadowClanner, are you, if you won't even join in on a little spar? Might as well run back to wherever it is you came from." She's fishing, trying to rile Melisandre up. She hopes it works.

She could always go up against Halfshade if she has to, but this just seems far more enticing, rude as she knows it is to interrupt after the other already offered. "Why not fight me instead?" She grins, all teeth. "I'll go easy, I promise." These last words are spoken softly, as though a secret. Adderjaw never goes easy on anyone, of course, but she'd rather Melisandre find that out the hard way.​

 

[SNOWMASK]

As always she loves her daughter and it shows on her soft purr. Gently she lightly presses her nose to her daughter's shoulder. With a smile she likes the fact that her child wishes to participate. After all she has more knowledge of this place than she does. "Do your best, Nady. Though I'm sure you always give it your all." There is a twinkle of mirth in her eyes, the silver optics open and endearing. But soon her gaze is filled with another. This one a molly and the way she says her name is all too unpleasant. Her jaw clenches then on the words that are spit out at her. Annoyance now glimmering in cold silver hues. What is with these cats? Her paws shift back and forth as she listens before she suddenly just shakes her head. Because really she is not the type to let emotions drag her down. She never has been. It's the facade that matters, a carefully crafted mask and she doesn't let it break. Instead she merely looks to Adderjaw and lets a bemused smile pull at her muzzle.

"If you want to insist that I'm scared then by all means. But I would have at least expected Shadowclan to understand my boundaries and not try to force me into anything before I'm ready. I may be new here, and you can try to use that against me but I have my own skills. But I want to see how everyone else does with their moves first, sometimes observing is basic learning. So you can find yourself someone else to taunt at. Thank you." Since coming here it is a wonder why any cat from somewhere else stays. They treat her like a mongrel and she turns away from Adderjaw, settling back on wanting to watching Smogmaw and Ferndance.​

 

[Redthroat]

The constant buzzing through camp was always so irritating the the cinnamon tom, like a gnat that just wouldn't leave well enough alone till it was faced with the snap of jaws. Glowing golden eyes traced the plethora of his clan mates, all squawking around like frogs within the very marsh they resided in. A nicked ear twitches in annoyance, half listening to the goading between Adderjaw and whatever that new girl's name was. He huffs out a hollow laugh at her response to the rosetted molly, a brow raising at her with slight interest. She certainly had spunk, that's for sure. But he wondered how well that'd go over with Adderjaw. The tom rolls his shoulders with indifference, not necessarily caring what happened between them. Unless a real fight decided to break out instead of the sparring nonsense; now that'd be a show to see. Tufts of light and dark fur scattering all around, splattered blood painting over the clearing. Caterwhauls of rage and anger as they went at each other like a couple of half-starved foxes. He'd almost pay to see it.
Redthroat flicks his sunlit gaze towards Smogmaw and Ferndance, watching the rather lame spar between the two. Where was the oomph of it all? Were they too yellow-bellied to use their claws? The warrior scoffs with a flick of an ice-capped tail. "Aim for the eyes!" He woukd finally call to the two tusseling warriors, a grim smile pinching at his maw.

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[ FUCKING HELL ]​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

† Starlingheart? Owlish, Sharppaw looks to the medicine cat in question. She was here to prevent injury, no matter how realized her skills actually proved to be. She shouldn't, she couldn't. A glance is spared to Meli. Disconcerted, discomforted... Sharppaw looks to her with a strange look. Halfway-scorn, halfway-nervousness. Cats did not always shift to the marsh so easily... Even Smogmaw, once upon a time, had nearly been lost to wind. How long would it be until this one left them too? How would he knows she was worth his time at all?

Frowning, her silver gaze drags back her mentor. She didn't feel comfortable doing quite so much... nothing. Not when his paws were already crashing into another. Sharppaw stumbles back with a croaking sound, a shriek half-aborted, wanting to maintain the semblance of dignity she still clung to. And just as her paws begin to itch, curled smoke wisps come into view. Sharppaw blinks. "Oh, um... okay." He's thankful, really.

Strike before they can act. Smogmaw's strategy had been similar, hadn't it? He's already messed up.

Without a further word, he rushes forward, eyes nearly-screwed shut as he aims a paw to strike across Tornadopaw's chest.

[ Trying to smack @Tornadopaw !! ]​