when I live, I’ll give it all I got // training montage

Cricketcry

wretchedly nervous
Jul 1, 2024
47
6
8

//scorchstreak and paleface are cricketcry’s “coaches” but anyone is welcome to participate/spectate!!


𓆧 All of the crisis' Windclan has faced and Cricketcry's personal crisis' have brewed the perfect storm to make him into a craven fool. But no more, the chocolate tabby has been wrested out of the depths which he has wallowing in since his accident and the reign of Sootstar. Dimmingsun made it terribly clear that he must commit to growing. He can no longer be stuck in his neurosis and must pursue some sort of change. Cricketcry will not allow himself to be a burden, not when he has all the capability to improve for the better. He must, if he wishes to prove his devotion.

"R-right. What's first?" Cricketcry murmurs, his crackly voice low. He addresses Paleface and Scorchstreak, two acquaintances he nervously recruited to help him practice and teach him some fighting skills he is severely lacking in. It is undeniable that Cricketcry can defend himself under gound. This is the completely opposite on the moor where the sky seems to crush him into half the cat he is in the sprawling tunnels. The compact tom faces them, his hackles bristling like a porcupine-- as if the two in front of him will tackle him immediately and batter him down to a pulp. It's not them he's scared of, though; just rather the state of his existence in the open air, vulnerable to all the threats that pulsate in the back of his mind. "I need to be able to fight back, I can't run away anymore." Cricketcry rasps, shaking out his long coat to release the stress he felt, which smoothed down his hackles.

...you're pretty strong for surviving such a blow. He hears Hollyhockpurr's words in the back of his mind, referring to the accident which caused the injury to his hindleg and the beginning of the spiral downwards to the feline he is today. He knows he can take quite the beating before he gives up, but to fight back? He's unsure. But those words strengthen him as he sharply mews, "J-just attack me or s-s-something and we can go from there. I'll show you what I'm 'made of." Cricketcry cocks his head and betrays the smallest amusement at his jest and stiffens, preparing for whatever the two may throw at him.


u9a4dSL.png

 
Last edited:
༄༄ The deputy is no brute. Her slight form is a far cry from the thickly-muscled form of Sunstar—she has been to the mountains, but she did not grow up in them. She did not spend day after day in the chilled air, training under powerful cats with the expectation that he would be a leader someday. That he chose her as his deputy astonishes her still, although she cannot be too shocked by the decision. She is the best choice in all of WindClan to fill his former position, after all. But… is she enough? The calico battles frequently with the idea of her own inadequacy. If she had been a stronger fighter, able to hold her own, then she would not wear scars across her face, and Sunstar would not wear them across his throat. Granitepelt had been thin, bones jutting from beneath taut skin. He should have been easy to take down. She should never have needed to be saved by Sunstar.

In a way, agreeing to train Cricketcry helps Scorchstreak out as well. To remain in top form, she must constantly be working to grow stronger. It is a simple thing to help another build their skills whilst keeping her own sharp as well. Cricketcry is just lucky… that Scorchstreak is so patient. His pelt bristles with anxiety, with a vulnerability that Scorchstreak feels herself anytime she leaves the tunnels. "First… talking while fighting only makes it more difficult to catch your breath." Any warrior worth their ranking should know that, but Scorchstreak can demonstrate patience for the timid tunneler. I can’t run away anymore, the tom asserts, and Scorchstreak nods sharply in agreement. Running is just as important to battle as biting and clawing is; for a tunneler especially, darting into and out of tunnels can be an advantage that few other cats have.

Cricketcry tells them to just attack him, and the deputy nods. Her claws slide from their sheaths, then back in. No claws are required for this, she decides. WindClan is ensuring enough hardship without an accidental injury at her paws. Narrowing her eyes, she rushes for him at last, aiming to tackle him to the ground. If successful, she will attempt to keep him pinned for a moment with paws settled onto his shoulders. It is a position many tunnelers may find themselves in, standing so much shorter than many enemy cats. It is a position Scorchstreak herself has been in before. She does not yet offer advice or guidance—let him try to find his way out of this first.

  • ooc:
  • 83282667_7UVjIV9bzrILi7P.png
    SCORCHSTREAK ❯❯ she/they, deputy (tunneler) of windclan
    small, slim flame-streaked calico with fiery golden eyes. cold and closed-off, ferociously protective of her clanmates. rarely seen aboveground.
    mate to bluepool ; sibling to rattleheart & rabbitclaw
    mentor to none ; previously mentored pinkshine
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
    penned by foxlore
 

"You've got this, Cricketcry." The words of encouragement come a few tail-lengths away from the trio, attentive eye taking in every minuscule detail. It seems the quiet tunneler has taken Dimmingsun's advice — which could be barely called even that, but he will take the credit for this apparent 'wisdom' of his. When he'd overheard Cricketcry looking for coaches, Dimmingsun was quick to join in; to watch, mostly, but also to offer some of his own battle techniques.

It's Scorchstreak's turn to test Cricketcry's abilities first. The cold shoulder she tends to give Dimmingsun does not deter him from standing by; he might as well learn something too from his deputy, considering her experience in both tunneling and combat.

His whistle is sharp as he witnesses Scorchstreak's advances on her 'opponent'. "Oooh, no mercy." Would Cricketcry manage to wriggle his way out from under her hold? Already, Dimmingsun is thinking of what he could do in his stead with that lithe body; a quick, snake-like motion to get free, and a confident slam to the head or flank to distract Scorchstreak.
 
𓆧 The surprise that flittered across his face at the sight of Scorchstreak unsheathing their claws-- albeit sheathed nearly immediately-- was intensified as they rushed him. Well, yes, he had prompted the deputy to attack him... but he had expected more of a warning. But his enemies would not announce their presence and their intention for a battle, Cricketcry knew that was not reality. He is caught off guard and immediately pinned, held down by his shoulders by the strong tunneler.

Cricketcry knows he must use his strengths to his advantage: paws strengthened by moons of hollowing out tunnels, the compact muscles that strengthen his broad shoulders, and his slight build-- not outwardly useful in combat with a larger foe, but good for evasive tactics. He inhales deeply and slides his forepaws outwards and plants them firmly. With solid footing, Cricketcry throws his entire body weight outwards, releasing himself from beneath the deputy's pin. He rolls awkwardly away, wincing when a twinge of pain shoots up his hindleg. Ignore it... Cricketcry immediately whips around, his chest heaving and face contorted in concentration, and dashes forward to bombard Scorchstreak with a headbutt into her flank in a clumsy effort to knock her off balance. If this hasty attempt proved successful, Cricketcry will aim a strike at her shoulder with a strong forepaw.


u9a4dSL.png

  • OOC—
  • CRICKETCRY —— Tunneler of Windclan 𓆧
    𓆧 AMAB / he/they / 28 ☾
    𓆧 petite, reclusive, & wistful
    𓆧 has a slight limp
    𓆧 lh chocolate tabby/fawn chimera
 
It was always a pleasure, learning from Scorchstreak. Although they were not actively sparring at the moment, they would spectate this training session and absorb anything that would be of use to them in the future. The deputy was blunt and sharp-tongued, but she had seasons of experience. The scars that marred her pelt were only proof of that.

The chimera takes a seat near Dimmingsun, her mentor @SWIFTSHADE presumably with her as well. "This will be beneficial for him." They murmur aloud, bi-colored eyes fixed onto the action. Ailments or birth-given conditions did not prevent WindClanners from being ferocious fighters, they know that much.

Scorchstreak goes for a pin, to which Cricketcry slides out of it and aims to knock the deputy off balance next. "Every WindClanner needs to know how to hold their own in battle, even us tunnelers." While burrowing into small holes and hiding from enemies could save their necks in a pinch, that would not always be an option. If a tunneler was backed up against a metaphorical wall, they should have the skills to fight off an opponent. They were smaller than average as well, meaning that it was even more crucial to learn how to outsmart a larger foe... especially those dishonorable DuskClanners.

  • 84204730_SermJMxgdgoRfwl.png
    a tunneler apprentice of windclan, rowanpaw is eight moons and is mentored by swiftshade they are the child of snakehiss and berrysnap. split directly down the middle, their right half is solid black and their left half is tortoiseshell patterned. they also have amber and blue heterochromia.
 
ᯓ.° ️️️ ️️╱ ️️️ ️️ ️️️ Sharp eyes barely leave the battle, even as Rowanpaw speaks. There is a critical edge to Swiftshade's expression– the deputy will know well enough that it isn't directed at her. Though the tunnelers were known best for their life below the earth, his apprentice spoke the truth. When it came time for battle, no cat could be unprepared. They have been through so much as a clan. Cricketcry could not be a hindrance. And it is good to know that so far, Rowanpaw was proving that they would not be. A quiet purr of approval rumbles through the small tom's chest, even as his attention remains pinned on combat.

He leans his head in and down so that he might whisper conspiratorially: "What would you have done differently there?" As much as he may find it irritating that the deputy is needed to train a named warrior, it is not his place to distract from the necessary lesson. Swiftshade's cunning curiosity is not meant to be loud enough for any but his apprentice to hear. Or perhaps Dimmingsun, if the warrior cares to listen in. It wouldn't be such a bad thing to get someone else's insight. "With the headbutt, specifically."
EpC61GT.png

  • 55720975_4k59AInH4kbsdWu.png
    ✧₊⁺ ️️️ ️️╱ ️️️ ️️ ️️️ OOC.
    ᯓ.° ️️️ ️️ ️️️ 𝙎𝙒𝙄𝙁𝙏𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙀. ️️️ HE - THEY.
    ᯓ.° ️️️ ️️ ️️️ TUNNELER OF WINDCLAN.
    ᯓ.° ️️️ ️️ ️️️ MENTORING ROWANPAW.
  • 8922574_16QgRvzHznhC7A7.png

    a small, lean black and white cat with gray-green eyes. even within windclan's populace, swiftshade is remarkably short. despite his compact, muscular frame and proportionally long legs, he could almost be mistaken for a thunderclan apprentice! (you'll lose your tongue if you say so.)

    despite his uncertainty over windclan's rebellion, swiftshade has remained under the radar as a tunneler since the early days of sunstar's leadership. as a relatively young cat, he is determined to prove himself and certainly a hard worker. befriending him is no easy task, but he's a good cat to have on patrol, at least.
 
*+:。.。 Fighting. Frightpaw hadn't thought about it before, her only interest in apprenticehood was to spend more time with her friends, but as a moor-runner apprentice, this was her destiny. Frightpaw padded close, stopping only a safe distance from the combatants but still a step ahead of @FOXGLARE , moonlight eyes wide with her newfound interest. Frightpaw had grown up in war. Sootstar's fall, Duskclan's attack, the fire's wrath - tragedy was like a third parent to the charcoal tabby. She was used to being on the sidelines, only ever watching until she was inevitably dragged away to safety. There would be none of that anymore - it would be her wrestling with invaders and traitors.
Frightpaw licks her lips and recalls the taste of her mother's blood.

"How will they know who wins? " Frightpaw asks, sparing only a brief glance at Foxglare to confirm he's within earshot before resuming her watch. She notices right away that neither of the cats is using claws. Maybe it's silly to think that the only way one knows they're victorious in a squabble is when they're bleeding or dead, but that's about the extent of her experience with battle so...sue her.
"Why'd he drop his head, shouldn't he be trying to bite, at least? " she continues, frowning at Cricketcry's clumsy headbutt when it had been Scorchstreak's paws-extended pounce that had succeeded before. Closing your eyes in a fight seemed pretty dumb.



  • " Speech "
    GENERAL:
    Frightpaw
    DFAB— She/Her — Unsure
    6 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
    Windclan apprentice
    Sister to Deatpaw, Witherpaw, Grasspaw, Whitepaw and Midnightpaw

    COMBAT:
    Physically very easy | mentally mediocre
    Attack in bold #1b1e21
    injuries: None
 
〕Paleface wasn't the best fighter, he would admit wholeheartedly and with little shame. Fighting and combat and strategy were all things he would have to learn from experience, from being in battles and experiencing them. He hadn't been around for one where he actually fought or got to see any fighting just yet, but had been around for the terror of the wildfires and the plague that had run rampant thrugh Windclan's ranks. His parents had been two of the casualties from that first round of Yellowcough. But that wasn't the focus of the current anomaly, the one he was watching as Cricketcry was getting his tail handed to him by Scorchstreak... which was no surprise, considering the molly was their deputy he would expect nothing less than all-consuming strength and prowess from her.

He watched as Cricketcry ducked his head and internally winced at it. The older tom was just like him in the sense that he was very, very good at hunting, but lacked in his fighting capabilities to an extreme extent. "Keep your eyes open!" He called, ear flicking. He was sitting down, tail curled neatly around his paws.
u9a4dSL.png

  • ooc.
  • PALEFACE —— warrior (moorrunner) of windclan . npc x npc . littermate to 2 others ★ penned by helly
    cis male / he/him / 16 moons & ages every 1st
    single / bisexual & monoflexible / open to romance
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
    —— he isn't participating in the fight, only watching and offering advice!

    speech, 'thoughts', all opinions are in character
    biography — msg on discord for plots (hellycinth) — toyhouse
  • 83235321_r1zHZnHDArcUYmq.png

    a longhaired black tabby/chocolate tabby chimera with low white and blue eyes no scarring.
 
༄༄ The deputy takes pride in the other tunneler’s intimidation; Cricketcry’s expression goes bright with shock, as though he expects her to actually use her claws on him. Were he a clanmate with any spine, she would not hesitate to do so. As it is, she cannot risk causing more trouble for WindClan’s healers. She hears an encouraging call for Cricketcry from an onlooker, but does not need to turn to identify that it is Dimmingsun’s input. Her hold is not particularly powerful, and when Cricketcry attempts to free himself the calico springs backward away from him. He’s done something correct amongst his fumbling, and found a way to escape the pin. The motion could still use work, but it is a start.

The tom attempts to headbutt her, and Scorchstreak twists her body to account for the blow. It is only glancing, and allows her the chance to strike out in an attempt to greet Cricketcry’s face with a brutal smack. What is he thinking? "When cats say to use your head in battle… they do not mean it literally," she snaps, her patience wearing thin for a moment before bouncing back into place. The tom manages to catch her on the shoulder with a strike of his own, and it is actually impressive. To the side, she hears Swiftshade’s voice along with Rowanpaw’s, but she is not paying enough attention to make out what the mentor-apprentice duo are saying. The deputy is forced to shift her weight in order to stay standing—the grim line of disappointment that had been traced across her muzzle fades now, into a subtle smile. There is potential here, at the very least.

Frightpaw’s voice cuts into Scorchstreak’s thoughts, and it seems the girl is asking her mentor a question. As much as the deputy would love to turn this into a lesson herself, she will leave this one to the younger onlookers’ mentors. She is attempting to ensure that Cricketcry will not perish—or worse, embarrass WindClan—in battle, and he deserves her full attention. However, she takes a step back in a sudden movement, turning to fix Paleface with a fiery stare. He is the only cat here without an apprentice, so perhaps he will not be opposed to joining in. "Paleface. Why don’t you step in, so I can better see what he needs to fix?" After all, it tends to be a bit difficult to correct the younger warrior’s mistakes if she cannot see exactly what he is doing wrong.

  • ooc:
  • 84614867_oGXlwEhkllyouH3.jpg
  • SCORCHSTREAK ❯❯ she/they, deputy (tunneler) of windclan
    small, slim flame-streaked calico with fiery golden eyes. cold and closed-off, ferociously protective of her clanmates. rarely seen aboveground.
    mate to bluepool ; sibling to rattleheart & rabbitclaw
    mentor to bilberrypaw ; previously mentored pinkshine
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted, but may react aggressively
    penned by foxlore
 
〕Paleface glanced at Scorchstreak from his focus on Cricketcry, nodding obediently. "Yeah, sure, why not." He muttered, stepping into the decent sized circle that had been formed around the other two. "Come at me, then." He told the other, grinning. His ears lay back and he started a playful, predatory prowl around Cricketcry, mimicking an opponents movements and hoping that the other tom would pick up on the minor humor he was trying to use to help him relax. If Cricketcry could relax then maybe he would be more apt to learning the things that Scorchstreak and Paleface were attempting to teach him. Hopefully, anyways.
u9a4dSL.png

  • ooc.
  • PALEFACE —— warrior (moorrunner) of windclan . npc x npc . littermate to 2 others ★ penned by helly
    cis male / he/him / 16 moons & ages every 1st
    single / bisexual & monoflexible / open to romance
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
    —— combat notes here / battle notes

    speech, 'thoughts', all opinions are in character
    biography — msg on discord for plots (hellycinth) — toyhouse
  • 83235321_r1zHZnHDArcUYmq.png

    a longhaired black tabby/chocolate tabby chimera with low white and blue eyes no scarring.
 
𓆧 As soon as went through with his halfhearted attempt at head-butting, Cricketcry knew it was a mistake. This was cemented by the paw slammed down upon his muzzle, causing blood to erupt from his nostrils and ooze down his creamy chin. Fuck! What an idiot... This blow angered him, an anger that allowed himself to be able to succeed at a strike against Scorchstreak's shoulder. The anger was stoked by the incessant, grating comments by his clanmates at the sidelines. The perfect lesson to apprentices on how not to be a warrior. He's surprised to whip his head around to see the beginnings of a smile, which in turn only makes the dull pulsing of anger in his temples flare. He was not an apprentice... it was... humiliating for Cricketcry to see a smile on his deputy's maw that any apprentice would strive for.

Paleface will be his next "opponent," Scorchstreak the teacher. Cricketcry's teeth grit and eyes narrow as Paleface begins to almost... playfully... circle him. He swipes his tongue around his nose, wiping away blood that welled while keeping eye contact with the tom, keeping him within sight at all times. The humor Paleface demonstrated pissed Cricketcry off. This was serious. He was an embarrassment to the clan and craves to be respected, he seriously needs to know what to improve upon; this training should be taken serious.

Like a bat out of hell, Cricketcry launches forward- grimacing as a rush of pain from the weight he put on his poor leg rushes through him- and he tries rakes his sheathed paw across Paleface's ear. In real combat, this could serve as a way to blind his opponent with their own blood. Even if it is not a successful move, he progresses to the backside of Paleface, diving forward to nip at his flank before treating back. He'll remain on the offensive now, following his attacks. His chest heaves, not so much from the effort he used but because of the indignation, visible in the way his hackles bristle and tail lashes.


u9a4dSL.png

  • OOC—
  • CRICKETCRY —— Tunneler of Windclan 𓆧
    𓆧 he/him/ 28 ☾ [/color]
    𓆧 petite, reclusive, & wistful [/color]
    𓆧 has a slight limp [/color]
    𓆧 lh chocolate tabby/fawn chimera [/color]