pafp spent a weekend in paris // spar

✧ Marmotbite.

✧ Marmotbite.

11/22/22-10/12/24
Controlled Burn [WC '24] Yellowcough [Sitewide Event '23] WindClan 10K
Nov 22, 2022
99
9
8
♢​♢ THE BEST MISTAKE YOU EVER MADE ♢♢​
marmotpaw & 10 moons & female & she/her & windclan tunneler apprentice​
Despite being a tunneler, Marmotpaw has never shied away from a good fight - if sootstar can do it, she thinks, then so can she. Of course, marmotpaw is far from as strong or even as big as their blue-furred leader - and she certainly doesn't have extra lives to spare. And so with the territory becoming more and more dangerous with each day that passes, she's forced to imporve her skills even faster. There is no time to waste on memorization and practice, no, what she needs in expereince.

And so the pale blue visage of the apprentice stands still in the training grounds, mismatched gaze watching. For once, she has not a look of apathy but of interests - intelligent eyes sizing up the various opponents who've come to train today. She settles upon a large frame tinged blue and white, and her decision is made - her mentor not even sparing a glance as she strides forwards. Starclan, she doesn't even come to shoulder heaight against the older warrior, but that won't stop her

Head tips back, neck craned, and she stares steadfastly overhead, scars pulling uncomfortably. "Spar with me. Please," its more of a demand than a request, the nicety simply slapped onto the end and clearly not meant. She is anxious - memories of her blue one laying there, bleeding, herself utterly useless and unable to help. WOlfsong may be able to fix wounds, but there is no treatment for death - she needs to get stronger, so she can help, so she can protect her. Maybe if she does, she'll finally feel worthy enough.

— it sounds so fuckin' beautiful when you say my name ♡
  • Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '

    ooc: please wait for @FOGBOUND
    I'll be rolling for pass/fail on def; with 10+ being a success <3
    tw/cw: —
  • — a shockingly tiny she-cat with pale blue and cream ticked tabby fur, save for a single patch covering her right eye that is brown instead, and mismatched green-orange eyes. she has heavy scarring along the entirety of her left side, from her face all the way down her chest, belly, and flank; which has been there since kithood. she is a twitchy little thing, known for her bad attitude and an unfortunate habit of biting when startled.

    — physically medium && mentally medium
    — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay not-allowed
    — please attack using [b][color=#9ab973]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 
your entire existence gives me a headache, go stand over there .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
Fogbound hadn’t been thrilled—being dragged around like some rag doll hadn’t been appealing, but his claws itched, fur prickling with something to do. His nostrils flared, turning a ruby optic to the tunneler apprentice, raising an elegant brow at the demand, grinning. He needed something to direct his blistering rage before some innocent soul got the brunt of it, but he wasn’t so heartless to take all of it out on a tunneler apprentice. “Of course, my dear.” He rumbled, pivoting his bulky frame to stare down at the small apprentice with a twitch of his whiskers, gaze darkening, sparkling like gems beneath the sunlight.

“I wouldn’t be an honorable gentleman if I denied such a demand.” If the molly asked him, then she had some purpose in doing so. He might not be like most of the WindClanners, made for brute force rather than speed, but he didn’t let that stop him. Besides. He wasn’t but a little curious to see how this would play out.

He circled the molly languidly, seemingly not taking it seriously despite the obvious ripple of muscle beneath smokey fur. It didn’t wait, shooting forward with what little speed he possessed to aim a sheathed paw against her side in an attempt to knock the feline onto her side, aiming to trap her beneath his thick fur.

/ i'll be using dice to determine fail or pass, and +10 to determine how successful it was !​
​
thought speech​
 

Sootspot could not remember the last time he had been involved in a spar. Tunnelers were expected to fight on occasion, but the long-furred heathen had never been one for bloodying his claws himself. It brought him little joy to see another attempt at replicating battle within the camp, all the same, Sootspot was a moth drawn to the flame of promise the action brought him. He would be a fool to bet against Fogbound, who dwarfed Marmotbite and could likely crush her with a single paw. "I bet my catch on the little one!" He called out with a wily smile. He could see how many would laugh and bet against him, on the odd chance that Marmotpaw had a trick up her sleeve, the little Tunneler could make Sootspot one of the most well-fed WindClanners in moons. If not, at least he would only be losing his lunch.

​
 
♢​♢ THE BEST MISTAKE YOU EVER MADE ♢♢​
marmotpaw & 10 moons & female & she/her & windclan tunneler apprentice​
The warrior rises to meet her challenge, and she gives only a nod and a slow blink of mismatched eyes. He circles her, but she only watches, twisting to the side so that he never leaves her sight, but nothing more, listening and waiting as he speaks. The words are grating against her ears, and for a moment she's not sure whether fogbound is mocking her or being genuine - it hardly matters though. In the end, he's he first to move - a heavy blow aimed to her side.

Marmotpaw may not be very big, or very strong - or even windclan born and raised like many her age. But she is steadfast in her ideals, and she takes pride in her abilities. Paws are light and swift as she darts backwards - just enough to feel only fur grazed, energy conserved. Something sharper enters her gaze when sotspot speaks, as though finally the adrenaline as hit - and perhaps it has.

She moves on instinct, teeth and jaws snapping harshly at the outstretched limb, hoping to taste blood - sure, she wouldn't really do anything that wolfsong couldn't treat, but she's not here to play pretend. She's here to learn, to grow, to survive. Already she's moving forwards again, one paw swiping out unsheathed to hopefully scratch against his foreleg as she darts around behind him and out of reach. She needs to find an opening - a weakness.

— it sounds so fuckin&#039; beautiful when you say my name ♡
  • Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '

    ooc: rolled a 15 for a pass
    tw/cw: —
  • — a shockingly tiny she-cat with pale blue and cream ticked tabby fur, save for a single patch covering her right eye that is brown instead, and mismatched green-orange eyes. she has heavy scarring along the entirety of her left side, from her face all the way down her chest, belly, and flank; which has been there since kithood. she is a twitchy little thing, known for her bad attitude and an unfortunate habit of biting when startled.

    — physically medium && mentally medium
    — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay not-allowed
    — please attack using [b][color=#9ab973]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 
✦　　. 　 ˚　.   It was his duty to oversee the training of apprentices, but that is not why Sunstride finds himself watching. He had always enjoyed the show of a spar– it had been too long since he was part of one himself. Instead he lives vicariously, and misses the way that Addervenom had sought his wisdom as they sat together. Now there is no apprentice to keep him company; his mind instead wanders to his own kit's ceremony to come, and the apprentices that had left upon the journey. Would they return for their naming? Would StarClan welcome them if they did not earn it? He almost wishes that Sootstar had gone with them. Not to keep their leader from her place on these moors, but to spare her in a way. If she did not have to watch Weaselclaw's demise, or make these terrible choices in the midst of it– it would have only delayed the inevitable, he knows, yet at times he wishes for even that much.

A sudden motion from Marmotpaw tears him from his mind. He watches the glint of claw and fang with a raised brow. Not surprise, but a small bit of pleasure. It is good that they embrace a taste of battle. Even if they would not experience the fullness of it for some time, it is better to know the pain of it now than struggle against it later. The first cut a cat suffers through should not be on the battlefield; that would only serve to distract them. "Remember the strengths of your size, Marmotpaw!" Sunstride calls with a joyous grin.
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𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘗𝘖𝘐𝘚𝘖𝘕; 𝘚𝘜𝘕-𝘉𝘓𝘖𝘖𝘋 𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌  ╱╱ 9.16.2023 ˊˎ＜
  • OOC. —
  • ✦　　. 　 ˚　.   FORMERLY SUNNVAR. HE - HIM - HIS OR THEY - THEM. DEPUTY OF WINDCLAN. 4 YEARS OLD. PENNED BY REVELATIONS.  —————————
    sunsquare2.png
    ——  a tall auburn tabby with thick fur and bright glacial eyes. sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond it, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of them. he radiates confidence and self-assured authority.

    ✦ NPC x NPC. DECEASED MOTHER, ESTRANGED FATHER. NO LITTERMATES. MATE TO WOLFSONG. FATHER TO BEARKIT, SINGEDKIT, RIVEKIT, SUNLITKIT, AND FEATHERKIT ——
    Click to expand...
  • "speech"
​
 
your entire existence gives me a headache, go stand over there .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
Fogbound narrowly dodged, snapping his limb away before she could sink her teeth into a muscled limb, scowling. Oh? How particular. He mused, dancing away from the feline with a few quick strides, grinning as adrenaline pumped through his veins.

He hadn’t been lucky to avoid the next attack, muzzle crinkling at the long stripe of blood down his foreleg, catching sight of the smaller feline zip around from behind. She was using his size again him and that was all that more interesting. “Touche.” He hummed, watching the other create some distance.

The smokey moor runner lunged forward, off to her side to use the blunt of his teeth to latch onto her shoulder in an attempt to knock her off balance, leaving his underbelly exposed.

/ rolled a miss and direct hit ​
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thought speech​
 
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