pafp THIS MOMENT (fern's warrior assessment)

[MUDPELT]

// Please wait for both @FERNPAW and @DARKPAW to post before posting!

Word had traveled fast that today Fernpaw would be taking his warrior assessment to be considered for his ceremony. He's reached the age that most apprentices take this step, and with his sister already bearing her warrior name the pressure is on. Mudpelt stands tall at one end of the sandy clearing, beaming in excitement and pride for his son. He knows Fernpaw's strength lies in swimming - he cuts through the waves like a fish, he swears! But today, he must demonstrate his skill in something else a warrior must do for his clan: fight. Some clanmates have come to watch, and as they find their seats on the edge of the clearing, the dark brown warrior clears his throat.

"Fernpaw, your opponent today is Darkpaw," He announces, gesturing for his other son to step forward. Now, neither of them are particularly gifted in battle, he knows this. Even still, he knows Darkpaw will still be a bit of a challenge for the red-furred apprentice to overcome. "If you can defeat him, or last in battle against him long enough for the shadow of this tree to reach that stone," He pauses, gesturing with his nose to the chosen tree and the rock that rested nearby, "then you pass, and you will become a warrior." The shadow creeps ever closer as the sun rises in the sky. Within a couple of minutes, it will be covered. He looks to Darkpaw first and gives him a nod and a smile, then to Fernpaw. You've got this, son. "Your assessment begins...now!"​

 

[FERNGILL]

It was... odd to be pitted against his brother. He'd pictured sparring Mudpelt; his father was a force to be reckoned with, but he was sure with the force of his determination he would be able to struggle past his father's stony stature. But that idle wondering was not meant to be; Darkpaw was to be his opponent, and that would be that. Fernpaw was not a natural in battle- in fact, the ginger tom found the technique more than difficult. But- he would not be felled as easily as he was at Sunningrocks by that ThunderClan apprentice. His willpower would forge a path in front of him!

Nodding along to his mentor's words, Fernpaw fixed Darkpaw with a steely look. He was smaller than his brother, forever the tiniest of all of his siblings despite his proportions now being... normal. But hopefully, hopefully, Fernpaw's diminished size would mean he moved quicker than his brother, and would be able to defeat him with trickiness and agility.

As soon as Mudpelt shouted now, Fernpaw propelled himself forward, clumsily flinging himself toward his brother in an attempt to pounce. His aim was awry, though- it would not be difficult for Darkpaw to dodge.​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[DARKWHISKER]

(;ﾐΦ ﻌ Φﾐ)∫ — Darkpaw steps forward at his father's call, hiding the anxiety that sends jitters down his legs with what he hopes to be an encouraging smile. Today is a big day for Fernpaw! He's reached a huge milestone in every apprentice's development; their final assessment. The deciding factor on whether or not Fernpaw would receive his warrior name at this moon's meeting... And Darkpaw should be excited for him. But instead, he feels a sense of dread creeping up his spine. Maybe it would've been easier to be excited if he was cheering from the sidelines instead of standing face-to-face with his brother as an opponent. The obstacle that Fernpaw has to defeat in order to graduate.

And Darkpaw's expected to fight back with the knowledge that this spar would determine Fernpaw's future.

He swallows hard, his smile wavering underneath the steely expression of Fernpaw and the instructions given by Mudpelt. It's okay. It'll be just like play-fighting in the nursery. The dark-furred apprentice tries to silently reassure himself, but that terrible sensation of ice continues to crawl through his veins. Play-fighting never had stakes as high as this.

Part of Darkpaw is tempted to let Fernpaw win. Then he wouldn't have to fight his brother, and Fernpaw would pass. But Mudpelt looks at Darkpaw with a smile and an encouraging nod, and he knows he couldn't risk disappointing his father by giving up before the battle had even begun. All Fernpaw has to do is pin me down or last long enough for the tree's shadow to touch that rock. While Fernpaw isn't the greatest at fighting, Darkpaw doesn't exactly have any advantages aside from his height. Surely, his brother could manage?

"Good lu-" Darkpaw starts to wish Fernpaw good luck, but he's cut off by Mudpelt sounding the start of the battle. Without hesitation, Fernpaw throws himself towards Darkpaw in a clumsy pounce. The dark-furred apprentice should've had enough time to gracefully dodge, had it not been for his own hesitation. His limbs freeze up for a heartbeat too long, before he snaps out of it and throws himself to the side without thinking; tripping over his own paws in the process and tumbling out of the way of Fernpaw's attack. Instinct takes over, then. Darkpaw tries to scrabble back onto his paws before Fernpaw could close the distance between them and use his longer legs to his advantage, kicking out with claws sheathed in hopes of knocking his brother off-balance. However, Darkpaw still doesn't put his full strength into the blow. It would be evident to anyone watching that his heart is not fully in the fight.​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

Iciclefang's siblings were not far behind her, but he did have some satisfaction in knowing his training had pushed her upward to a more advanced level than her peers. The dark tom wandered forward, nodding politely to Mudpelt once but his attention was rapt on the two brothers who would be facing one another for this assessement. Not many of their apprentices had gotten to taste proper battle, it was why he had dragged their sister to every skirmish and conflict that rose up; to give her a taste of what was to come and while both had been present in a few it was clear neither had the will nor desire to unsheath their claws unleashed pushed and that wasn't exactly what he wanted to see from the future warrior's of RiverClan. Smokethroat's tail looped around his paws, shoulders squared and expression neutral; he was not here to instruct or cheer and he would be snapping at anyone who even dared to do so. This was a display of skill, not a game, not a contest, not entertainment. The only voice that had a right to instruct or call out was Mudpelt himself.

Fernpaw attacks with an enthusiasm he isn't prepared to see from the orange tom, quicker than even his brother can respond to and Darkpaw obviously faltered in his response. Both apprentices are awkward, clumsy, he remembers how Iciclefang nearly tore his fur off with her swings and finds himself unfairly making comparisons. Thankfully he catches himself, so long as they adapted quickly and got over the nerves then this still might be salvageable-he had to, eventually, learn to give a LITTLE leeway with the softer apprentices. He hopes Darkpaw is not pulling back for his brother's sake. It would only hurt them both in the end.

​

 

[RAVENSONG]

The life of a warrior was not for him anymore. Ravenpaw would be lying if he said he did not sometimes think about what could have been if he was. He already had the idea of it, of course, he had been training for it for long. He had been shaping up to be a rather poor model of it. After hearing of Dovepaw's failure and Iciclefang's triumph, Ravenpaw wanted a chance to watch what one of those assessments would be like.

Fernpaw was his friend, his only friend now that Dovepaw would not speak to him. Since the ginger tabby was one of the few who seemed happy for him becoming medicine cat apprentice, Ravenpaw felt that he ought to support him on his big day. The apprentice slunk over quietly, ears pricked as he watched the clumsy footing and he held his breath.

​

 

[lichenstar]

It was mostly out of curiosity that she bothered to insert herself among the small crowd. She hadn't a single apprentice of her own and this was important... how to measure the success of your little shadow, how to ensure they were ready for the real world out there. That they wouldn't get swallowed whole by the cruel reality that faced them on the other side of adulthood.

Taking a seat in silence, making sure not to be too close to anyone in particular (awkwardly brushing pelts made her skin crawl), the molly glanced between the boys' father and then back at them as the battle began. That wait... it was a for a split second but it threw Darkpaw off balance.

Dead. It was an unwilling thought but one that rang with necessity. Hesitation always meant you were the one to be buried in the dirt... This was why she couldn't make friends at Gatherings... there was no point making it harder to use your claws when the time came.

He was quick enough to recover. That reaction time might save him in a pinch but it was a risk. The concern that sat with her remained private, catching the watchful gaze of Smokethroat nearby.​

 

[Sablemist]

In every situation you give me peace

Warrior assessments were always a nerve wracking thing. An event filled with an equal measure of nervousness as well as excitement. Sablepaw wanders forward, taking a seat upon the ground as periwinkle eyes skim over the two apprentices. She briefly wonders what kind of assessment Cinderpelt would task her with once warriorhood loomed on the horizon. Dark ears flick when Mudpelt signals for the spar to begin and she watches with interest as Fernpaw tosses himself at his brother. Darkpaw hesitates, but still manages to dodge the orange tabby's clumsy tackle. "You can do it Fernpaw!" Sablepaw shouts encouragingly, wrapping her thick tail across her paws.Fighting might not have been his strong suit, but she had enough faith in the tom to know he could hold out until time was up. ​

Don't gotta be afraid because you're in the lead​

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[iciclefang]

She would not miss her brothers' warrior assessment for all the world. The tortoiseshell had heaved herself from her makeshift nest in the medicine cat's den, moving slowly behind Ravenpaw as he comes to observe the match. She sits herself beside Smokethroat, silent. Perhaps he's remembering the assessment he'd put her through, one with claws splayed and eyes brimming with adrenaline. There is none of that here.

Iciclefang judges every movement her siblings make with harsh, critical pale blue eyes. The voice in her head is crushingly condescending. Too slow. What was that dodge? Ugh... pick yourself back up! There's no force in that attack at all...

She has to clench her jaw to keep herself from speaking aloud. It's not her place. Sablepaw cheers for Fernpaw, but Iciclefang will not support one brother over the other. She wants both to succeed, although... she remembers Darkpaw's misery after the battle with SkyClan, and again after WindClan had attacked them in the night. Her dark-furred brother hates bloodshed, and though his paws are sheathed, it's the violence that deters him, not the potential for injury.

Fernpaw has all of the enthusiasm Darkpaw doesn't, but his skills are woefully underdeveloped. Iciclefang is surprised to see just how bad they are. Her father is a competent fighter, and she knows her mother is more than capable as well. Where had Fernpaw's blundering paws come from?

She attempts to share a glance with Smokethroat, silently communicating how uncomfortable she is watching this spar. It's unkind of her to judge, but she continues to mentally note every mistake with narrowed eyes.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[FERNGILL]

Fernpaw hardly registered the tumble that Darkpaw took in order to dodge his attack, for he too went flying toward the cold embrace of the earth, landing with an audible impact. Skidding paws scrambled to regain uprightness, and he hissed hurriedly in distress, dispelling from him the bitter taste of failure. He was used to not succeeding at everything by now, but- why, why, when it mattered, he could not muster up some shred of talent that slumbered within him? He was not a bad cat. Not a thief or a cheat, nor unkind. Didn't he truly, truly deserve to be a warrior?

Determination fuelled him. He could not think of the cat before him as his brother; merely, as an opponent. A thieving Thunderclanner or a murdering Windclanner. But the moment he turned around to lay eyes upon Darkpaw, the other apprentice had kicked out toward him, a blur of brown fur. Despite the fact Darkpaw's heart was not in the blow, even withheld strength was enough to knock Fernpaw to the side. The impact, as well as the nonsensical surprise he felt in being met with immediate retaliation, sent the small ginger tom tottering off to side, thrown off so thoroughly that he toppled over and met the earth once again.

It was another mad dash to get to his feet, shaking the dust off of him in a flurry of fire-fur. There was a familiar voice, Sablepaw's cheer- and he knew the eyes of his peers, his friends, his siblings, and his superiors appraising every aspect of his fight. He was a part of RiverClan's future. He would be a warrior just like his sisters- he had to prove himself, but he would be. A hiss of effort left him as he swung a paw toward Darkpaw's face, but- some disorientation meant that on the first attempt he completely missed his target.

As soon as he felt no impact at the end of his paw, he tried again, attempting to strike Darkpaw across the nose.​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[CICADASTAR]

the mottled leader steps from the shadows just in time to watch the orange tom miss his strike, flicks his salt blue gaze towards the frustration drawing tight upon his sisters white - flared features. her siblings had always trickled after her, never quite as warrior minded as iciclefang had been honed into. fernpaw was no exception — in fact, he leaned more towards an example, all clumsy enthusiasm and uncoordinated, tripping paws. mudpelt had trained him to the best of his ability, he’d no doubt. cicadastar would not doubt the chocolate tom, as hardy and loyal as he had always been. a natural to water, to combat, ever since the beginning. fernpaw.. stars bless him, shared not the same talent. cicadastar steps wordlessly aside smokethroat and sablepaw, watches through heavy eyes to see what darkpaw would throw back.

˗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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[DARKWHISKER]

(/ᐠﹷ ‸ ﹷ ᐟ\ﾉ)ﾉ — Darkpaw's kick connects with something— he doesn't have time to take note of what, before he turns on his heels with a gasp as Fernpaw's sent tumbling. He cringes visibly at the sound of his brother hitting the earth not once, but twice, even though the smaller, rational part of Darkpaw's brain tries to remind him that the sand of the beech copse should've cushioned Fernpaw's fall. A better apprentice would've used this opportunity to try and pin Fernpaw to the ground. But all Darkpaw could worry about is whether or not he'd hurt his littermate, despite holding back. "I'm sorry-" he begins to apologize without thinking. However, Fernpaw's already scrambling back onto his paws and dashing towards him with a determination that the dark-furred tom lacks.

Someone cheers for Fernpaw from the crowd— Sablepaw, if he's remembering the sound of her voice correctly— but Darkpaw no longer has time to think about the eyes of his clanmates watching. Fernpaw's coming in for another blow, a sheathed paw swinging toward his face. His brother is fast, Darkpaw realizes as he just barely careens backward enough to avoid being slapped; the disorientation of Fernpaw's blow surely aids with his successful dodge. However, Fernpaw's quick to lash out again following his failed attack, faster than Darkpaw could react. His brother's paw strikes his nose, and Darkpaw yelps, stumbling back.

It doesn't hurt as much as it reminds him of the battle in SkyClan's camp, faced with a WindClan apprentice who rips through the skin along the bridge of his nose. This time, there is no blood, but Darkpaw swears he could feel that horrible sting all the same.

His body moves on its own, flinging himself toward Fernpaw in a clumsy attempt to pin the smaller tom to the ground while still holding back, the fear of truly hurting another ever-present in the back of Darkpaw's mind.​

 

[MUDPELT]

Mudpelt watches his sons nervously, his amber eyes following every move, every step, every swing. He winces as Fernpaw hits the ground, his anxiety palpable. He becomes all too aware of his clanmates gathering to watch, including his leader and a lead warrior. Come on, Fernpaw. Just pin him this once and you get to be a warrior. It's not that he favors one son over the other; every spar he's ever watched Darkpaw in, he's the loudest on the sidelines. But this spar determines Fernpaw's future, not Darkpaw's. He has to root for one over the other just this one time.

He perks up when Fernpaw lands a blow on the dark-furred tom's face, watching with intense focus as Darkpaw stumbles backwards before a burst of determination seems to find him. He launches himself towards Fernpaw and the warrior crouches to the ground, grimacing in apprehension. Dodge! Dodge, Fernpaw!​