Okay so, she was going to be a warrior in a moon, supposedly, but how the HECK was she going to get there if NO ONE WAS GOING TO TRAIN HER???? The small apprentice sat by the kill pile angrily shredding an unfortunate frog, picking off the pieces she actually wanted to eat. So far, her claws had only been used for two things. Shredding prey. Balance. What fun was THAT? She still didn't know how to fight!! At this pace, she'd be a warrior when she was thirty, an embarrassment to all of Shadowclan. It's not like they ever cared about her anyways. Magpiepaw knew that Shadowclan was the most amazing and awesome and extraordinary clan in all the forest. She knew that because SHE was in Shadowclan. But the clan themselves refused to acknowledge her greatness. What a pity, a near darn shame.
Just sitting. All she did day in and day out, unless she counted crying, WHICH SHE DID NOT! That's when she spotted Owlthroat, probably doing nothing of importance. Magpiepaw allowed herself one withering smile as she blinked back the hot and stupid tears that had formed in her eyes.
"Owlthroat! You owe me a battle lesson." She mewed, lacking her usually edge. "We're going!"
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 40 moons Killer Aptitude T2 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T1 The Dancing Bird
A demanding voice broke Owlthroat’s train of thought. The morning had been bright, the breeze sweet. So he’d taken it upon himself to bury in thought, nap, stretch out. Simply enjoy the sweetness of a peaceful morning. His yellow eyes narrowed and flickered upwards to catch sight of the young molly, he let a slight grin slip across his maw.
It wasn’t that typical of him to like apprentices, but this one had a certain spunk that he couldn’t deny. A bravado which at times reminded him of himself, and didn’t he just love to stroke his own ego. She was a far sight different from Willowpaw, potentially the worst apprentice he’d ever had the displeasure of trying to teach. Incoherent and bumbling, quite frankly he’d prefer it if she ran away. Magpiepaw clearly hadn’t forgotten his offer of a battle lesson, it would be interesting to see how the youngster would perform.
”Ay”, voice rumbling as gruff as ever. The bulky tom lifted himself up and shook out the dust from his long fur, reaching down to stretch and sink his blackened claws into the dirt under paw.
He sauntered towards a hollow on the edge of camp, not waiting up. ”So what do you know?” The question had somewhat of an accusing tone to it, he wanted to understand what he was working with. Whether or not he’d have to undo some bad habits, perhaps convince her sweetly enough that to win, was to sometimes be dishonourable in battle. It was terrifying how quickly his mind flickered into a battle landscape, but then again. Those he taught in the way of claws never performed poorly on the battlefield.
Plus not many warriors were as willing as he was to let an apprentice spar with unsheathed claws. His thick fur always dampened blows, and if they never learnt how to cut with them it would be a foreign feeling in battle giving others the edge. Perhaps a little bit insane letting an unhoned youngster go wild but something sickening inside Owlthroat loved seeing them take pride in the wounds they caused. It was no fun when they cowered in fear, scared of crimson heat.
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 40 moons Killer Aptitude T2 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T1 The Dancing Bird
A demanding voice broke Owlthroat’s train of thought. The morning had been bright, the breeze sweet. So he’d taken it upon himself to bury in thought, nap, stretch out. Simply enjoy the sweetness of a peaceful morning. His yellow eyes narrowed and flickered upwards to catch sight of the young molly, he let a slight grin slip across his maw.
It wasn’t that typical of him to like apprentices, but this one had a certain spunk that he couldn’t deny. A bravado which at times reminded him of himself, and didn’t he just love to stroke his own ego. She was a far sight different from Willowpaw, potentially the worst apprentice he’d ever had the displeasure of trying to teach. Incoherent and bumbling, quite frankly he’d prefer it if she ran away. Magpiepaw clearly hadn’t forgotten his offer of a battle lesson, it would be interesting to see how the youngster would perform.
”Ay”, voice rumbling as gruff as ever. The bulky tom lifted himself up and shook out the dust from his long fur, reaching down to stretch and sink his blackened claws into the dirt under paw.
He sauntered towards a hollow on the edge of camp, not waiting up. ”So what do you know?” The question had somewhat of an accusing tone to it, he wanted to understand what he was working with. Whether or not he’d have to undo some bad habits, perhaps convince her sweetly enough that to win, was to sometimes be dishonourable in battle. It was terrifying how quickly his mind flickered into a battle landscape, but then again. Those he taught in the way of claws never performed poorly on the battlefield.
Plus not many warriors were as willing as he was to let an apprentice spar with unsheathed claws. His thick fur always dampened blows, and if they never learnt how to cut with them it would be a foreign feeling in battle giving others the edge. Perhaps a little bit insane letting an unhoned youngster go wild but something sickening inside Owlthroat loved seeing them take pride in the wounds they caused. It was no fun when they cowered in fear, scared of crimson heat.
Welp, it looked like someone was lazing around that day, but not her. Magpiepaw got no breaks. Not like she wanted them anyways... The small apprentice watched as Owlthroat shifted his expression and pulled his maw upwards to show a glint of teeth. Magpiepaw wasn't sure what he was emoting in that moment, but why would she care? He then greeted her to which she responded with the impatient tap of her tail. She wanted to get this over with. She was sick of being overlooked. She wanted to be better. Also, why the heck was he so dusty? Magpiepaw had only met one other cat like that, the one with the odd sapphire eyes. She called him Dusky because she couldn't remember his name for some reason. That was a pretty odd day for her...
Before she knew it, Owlthroat was walking off, WITHOUT HER! "HEY!" She screeched, darting after the larger warrior with quickening paws. Once Owlthroat halted he addressed her with a question. Magpiepaw clicked her teeth before answering. "Bleh, dodging, where to strike which is shoulders up. They bleed more there as Rookie told me. Anything below won't bleed as much but fair game still." The apprentice opened her mouth as though she was ready to say more, but she closed it after awhile, looking slightly confused. Stars, three things? ONLY THREE!? Oh this was so STUPID!! How old was she!? Yeah, she was lacking. Magpiepaw clawed at the ground furiously, her eyes narrowing out into slits. "I swear I would know more if my first two mentors actually taught me something, and my CURRENT ONE is ALSO A DRAG."
The she-cat shook her head. Gracklepaw was moons older than her. If he was still here, would he have already gotten his warrior name? Even if he had and she wasn't beside him, perhaps getting her friend as a mentor would benefit her more than anything or anycat else. But no. He was gone, a stupid and horrible thought, and she was still here, a moon away from her personal deadline of becoming a warrior, and yet she still wasn't ready. But she was going to GET ready. RIGHT. NOW.
She looked back up at Owlthroat defiantly. "Since you offered me a lesson I'm assuming you're not a worthless feather brain, yeah?"
__________________
❝Whatever will be, will be. Don't care what anyone else thinks.❞
-When You Grow Up, Your Heat Dies
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 40 moons Killer Aptitude T2 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T1 The Dancing Bird
Magpiepaw knew less than expected, only the basics, he’d change that. He pondered his action plan and smirked at her defiant squeaks. ”Less of one, clearly, than your previous tutors”, Owlthroat grumbled harshly. He’d never been one afraid of making enemies even within the clan, some cats far overestimated their skills.
He led them both to the small hollow, shaded by thick pines. Moss lining the floor ample enough to soften any blow or throw. ”Dodging is good, but landing blows only shoulder up puts you at a disadvantage.” The tom snorted out somewhat of a laugh. ”Yes it bleeds easier, but with a little effort lower blows can be debilitating. I’ll explain some areas to target later, that some may consider…. dishonourable. But they’ll win you a fight, rather their life than yours.” Owlthroat’s voice remained cold, his tactics were brutish and dirty. But effective, seeing nothing wrong with getting ahead of the enemy before they got ahead of you.
He unsheathed his jagged black claws and held a paw up to show Magpiepaw his talons, ”I won’t be using my claws on you, but I expect you to use yours. If you're going to fight, better get used to the sensation now.” A sadistic twinkle rested in his slitted eyes as he retracted his own weapons, he knew he could hit hard enough without slicing flesh. It would be interesting to see how she’d react to this, seize the opportunity or cower.
Time to put her dodges to the test, he gave her a moment to let his words sink in. Owlthroat wondered whether she’d be a quick learner or take time learning the steps. For him fighting had always come so naturally, the usually graceless monster became a whirlwind on the battlefield. In other things he lacked, severely. Never had he mastered the sneakiness of a typical Shadowclanner, nor was he particularly adept at catching prey. Quite embarrassing, but hidden by bravado, a gift with the tongue and a gift with the claws. Bloodshed was cathartic.
Then without a moment of notice, Owlthroat swaggered forward and swung an obvious paw pad. Directed straight at the youngster’s head.
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 40 moons Killer Aptitude T2 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T1 The Dancing Bird
Magpiepaw knew less than expected, only the basics, he’d change that. He pondered his action plan and smirked at her defiant squeaks. ”Less of one, clearly, than your previous tutors”, Owlthroat grumbled harshly. He’d never been one afraid of making enemies even within the clan, some cats far overestimated their skills.
He led them both to the small hollow, shaded by thick pines. Moss lining the floor ample enough to soften any blow or throw. ”Dodging is good, but landing blows only shoulder up puts you at a disadvantage.” The tom snorted out somewhat of a laugh. ”Yes it bleeds easier, but with a little effort lower blows can be debilitating. I’ll explain some areas to target later, that some may consider…. dishonourable. But they’ll win you a fight, rather their life than yours.” Owlthroat’s voice remained cold, his tactics were brutish and dirty. But effective, seeing nothing wrong with getting ahead of the enemy before they got ahead of you.
He unsheathed his jagged black claws and held a paw up to show Magpiepaw his talons, ”I won’t be using my claws on you, but I expect you to use yours. If you're going to fight, better get used to the sensation now.” A sadistic twinkle rested in his slitted eyes as he retracted his own weapons, he knew he could hit hard enough without slicing flesh. It would be interesting to see how she’d react to this, seize the opportunity or cower.
Time to put her dodges to the test, he gave her a moment to let his words sink in. Owlthroat wondered whether she’d be a quick learner or take time learning the steps. For him fighting had always come so naturally, the usually graceless monster became a whirlwind on the battlefield. In other things he lacked, severely. Never had he mastered the sneakiness of a typical Shadowclanner, nor was he particularly adept at catching prey. Quite embarrassing, but hidden by bravado, a gift with the tongue and a gift with the claws. Bloodshed was cathartic.
Then without a moment of notice, Owlthroat swaggered forward and swung an obvious paw pad. Directed straight at the youngster’s head.
Magpiepaw let out an airless chuckle at Owlthroat's first remark, her paws pressing deeper into the ground and she shifted her weight onto them. "Let's hope." If just one more cat failed her, just one more, she might actually just throw herself into battle regardless of training. At least she'd go out with a bang I guess... Then Owlthroat continued walking so Magpiepaw made a break in her standing position and trotted to keep up with him. Owlthroat was much larger than her with longer legs and such, so Magpiepaw had to take noticably more strides to keep up with him. But Magpiepaw used her rage to fuel her and she didn't miss a beat, barely stumbling.
Then some tips were thrown at her, reasonable ones. Magpiepaw was fully aware of her height and how it hindered her, but it seemed that everycat she met felt the need to express this as well??? Like, c'mon! Magpiepaw KNEW how stupid short and stubborn she was, why couldn't anycat look past that? She was positive that while her height would certainly be of hindrance, if she was a good Shadowclan warrior, it shouldn't even matter. Wait... Dishonorable? "Psh, what's so dishonorable about winning a fight?" Magpiepaw thought aloud. Fighting was fighting, the honor came after the fight not during it when all anycat should be focused on us brutally mauling the other. And then honor would come if you successfully mutilated them.
Leaving her question in the air, Owlthroat unsheathed his claws. And to Magpiepaw's surprise they were black. Her pupils widened out as she took in the unusual color. Sure, a tint of red wasn't unusual but BLACK? It nearly looked like obsidian in the sunlight. Magpiepaw slightly entertained the idea of them being fake, but she found it much more endearing that they weren't. He must've killed so many cats!! How cool is that!? The small apprentice quickly unsheathed her own pair of claws, sharp but unimpressive in terms of color. "Haha, this'll be fun," oh finally, some warrior that trusted her enough to actually use her claws!!
Then black and white blurred through her vision and a wide smile immediately split onto her face.
MAGPIEPAW ROLLED A 12
(dodge!)
Magpiepaw felt a small grace of skin on her ear before ducking, taking note of how in a real battle her ear would probably be nicked by now. With excitement buzzing through her the apprentice immediately lifted her claws and raised them to Owlthroat's forearm as his talons had outstretched to reach her. She hoped the blow would land and she'd get the sweet reward of fur in-between her claws.
(Sorry for typos, I didn't proof read this!)
__________________
❝Whatever will be, will be. Don't care what anyone else thinks.❞
-When You Grow Up, Your Heat Dies
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 40 moons Killer Aptitude T3 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T2 The Dancing Bird
A smirk crossed his lips as Magpiepaw just ducked out of his reach. He saw her next blow coming, aimed straight at his forearm so he could dodge it. But he needed her to get a taste for the real action, he hovered it there a second longer and felt the hit. A tuft of fur ripped away and a small trickle of blood dappled the white. He was always lucky with his thick fur, a lot harder for anyone to sink their claws through. The tom shrugged off the graze and leapt back, the grin still ever present on his face, eyes flashing maniacally.
”Good, but you need to be faster than that. Use your size to your advantage, a small cat like yourself can dive under cats like me. The belly is tender, less fur there, slices easy too.” His voice was commanding but filled with adrenaline, he was completely in his element here. His tail lashed furiously, ”Now, this isn’t one to attempt unless you aim to debilitate. But at the bottom of the legs, behind the paws you slice deep enough there, into the tendons, it's doubtful the cat will ever walk again.”
Quite possibly the lowest of blows, ruin a whole warrior's life in a single clean cut.
Thrilling.
He brought himself up again, this time for a charge. He wanted to see how she’d react with a big hulk of fur smashing towards her, would she listen to the advice to simply sweep under? Owlthroat’s muscles tensed then propelled himself forward. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears. The large tom would send her flying and probably squish her in the process. It had been a long while since he’d fought in actual combat. He didn't have the chance to join the fight with Riverclan. But he was sure there would be another battle on the horizon soon enough, there always was. Clan cats could never quite stay friendly for long.
c'mon, fight! [p]
