pafp ready set let’s go — sparring

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Duskpool couldn’t help but wonder when the last time he’d battled another warrior, staring at the other with critical hues, expression offering nothing save for the subtle twitch of dark lips. A wooly tail flickered in brief bouts of agitation, covered up by the quiet tsk he let slip out, shoulder rolling just a hair to ease the accumulation of tension building up while muscles coiled in anticipation.

It was a rarity to seek out another for a spar. How brutal it’ll be will depend, but Duskpool wasn’t against a challenge, especially in his lackluster state. A busted shoulder that threatened to buckle was painful, but it was losing its stiffness and his wavering eyesight, lacking the ability to see well with his left eye except for blurry blobs of static grey.

Without prompt, the battered warrior surged forward, not the fastest, but he sure as hell made up for it with his bulky build, aiming to slam the other’s side, hoping to at least make the other off-balance where he’d swerve, aiming to land a non-lethal bite to the other’s shoulder before jerking away with a rumbling snarl, muzzle furrowed in tandem with the crinkle of molten hues.

/ please wait for @TIGERSCAR​

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thought speech​

 

[TIGERSCAR]

BIOGRAPHY AND TAGS​

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It seemed this would be an interesting affair. He wonders about the abilities of his opponent, appraises them with an eye of intense scrutiny. Many saw Tigerscar as a bumbling fool, eccentric and dull-minded, and they would no doubt be shocked to discover the inner workings of his darker mind. Every twitch of muscle, ever jerk of the pupils, ever step taken... Tigerscar analyzed Duskpool like a wolf might analyze a deer. The huge tom stands eerily silent, unnaturally so, given his typical, talkative demeanor. His eye is piercing, tracing the other's features. At last, Duskpool moves, darts forward in an instant. Come to me, the brute thinks with a swipe of his tongue across mangled jaws. Come to me so that I might crush your bones to dust.

This was meant to be a friendly spar, practice, some might say. But Tigerscar was a brutal combatant. Ruthless and unrelenting. Come to me so that I might peel your flesh from muscle. Closer, closer, the prey lunges at last. The collared tabby turns to face Duskpool head-on. Rather than strike his side, the other SkyClanner will crash against Tigerscar's looming chest as he rears back on muscled hind legs. Stay with me forever, he thinks with a fanged grin, the other's teeth biting into thick fur to miss flesh as the tom reels backwards, so that I might discover your every fear. Eye glowing with hell-fire, Tigerscar darts both front-paws out as his opponent jerks away, aiming to slam them into the sides of Duskpool's head with a painful clap of his huge limbs. So that I might make you scream, the brute twists with one paw swiping outward, attempting to send the skull of the other slamming into the hard ground. Had this been a real fight, he might have raked his nails through flesh for good measure. But for now, Tigerscar keeps the weapons sheathed.

So that I might make you beg. With that dark thought, a low chuckle drips past his maw, adrenaline pounding in his ears as he awaits Duskpool's next move.
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