nice beat, but can you d a n c e to it?

[Pripyat]

[ scythepaw/pripyat training thread ]
[ for the sake of realism, let's say that pripyat has been training scythepaw like a good little kitty; i know there aren't any training threads, but it's unrealistic to think that prip would neglect his apprentice's training, especially before a war. by now, scythe should have had all the nescessary training, and is about ready to become a warrior ]

The sky was a soft, tender blue, rimmed with faint white clouds. The sun washed the Rogue Meadow with light. It was Pripyat's favorite sort of day: dry, and with high visibility.

The black tom padded through the long grass, a wide, lazy grin on his dark face. His ears swiveled constantly, and his blue eyes flitted from landmark to landmark. He was jittering in eagerness.
He had told his apprentice, Scythepaw, to meet him here. It was time for a good old-fashioned fighting asessment, and Pripyat was sure she'd do well. She was very nearly a warrior, after all.

Pripyat paused, and sat, waiting for Scythepaw to show.

[Shadow Spirit]

Quick and painless...

The day was perfect, too perfect. Scythepaw didn't like things to be perfect. She thrived in chaos and disorder. The sky was too pretty, the clouds too clear...it was all in all, too nice to be the day of her assessment. If she passed, she would be made into a warrior, a BoneClan warrior! If StarClan knew what she had in store for the forest, they probably would have sent a tornado...

The silky-furred she-cat was so luxurious-looking. If you didn't see the hatred in her eyes and the stains of blood on her claws, you would never have taken her for a "bad cat."

Now, to start this assessment off right. Scythepaw could smell her mentor a mile off if she needed too. His distinctive scent was something she picked up on right away. From where she was now, he wouldn't be able to see her coming and she was completely upwind of him. She crept silently up behind him, taking cover in some scrub very near to where he sat, waiting. The end of his black tail was within reach of her forepaws, she was so close.

Finally, she leapt forward and meant to ponce right on his back. Now, the matter remained, would he dodge her blow?

...are words I scorn.

[Pripyat]

Pripyat sensed Scythepaw's presence an instant before she struck. His incredible reflexes spurred him into action and he spun away, digging blunt claws into the earth for traction. He was not quite fast enough; Scythepaw struck a glancing blow, nearly knocking the black tom right off his paws.
But he managed to regain his balance, stopping a tail-length away, wearing a broad grin. "Brilliant," he purred through his smile. "You very nearly had me there! I gotta commend you on your patience--you got pretty close, didn't you? A good warrior needs patience like yours."

The lean black tom sat, raising his paw to signal to his apprentice not to attack again.
"I have something new in mind today," he said, flipping his tail eagerly. "Up to this point, we've been sparring against each other. But for your assesment, I fear it's not entirely...realistic. We can only guess at how much damage our 'attacks' would do if we were serious."
"Today..." Pripyat clicked his teeth together sharply, his eyes flickering with anticipation. "Our target is a live cat."

Pripyat looked closely at Scythepaw, trying to gauge her reaction. He thought this was a pretty damn good idea, personally.

He went on, "Two, to be exact. The first one, we'll do together. That way, I can test your teamwork skills. It's important to know how to fight in a pair, since the dynamics are somewhat different than solo fighting. Since I'll be covering your back, we can take as much time as we want on this one."
Take time on what, you might ask? Heh, Scythepaw would understand. No 'quick and painless' for unlucky number one.
"The second cat, you're taking down on your own. I'll observe as you choose a cat at random, stalk it, and make the kill. You should make this one more efficient; I mean, it's all well and good to have a little fun, but sometimes you need to just get the job done." Pripyat curled his tail, in quite a good humor today.

[ the 'two cats' mentioned will be, unless you have any objections, two of my own characters i've been thinking of killing off; neither is particularly nice, but they are both fairly tough, so it works x3 ]

[Shadow Spirit]

Quick and painless...

Scythepaw's eyes lit up like an apprentice after their first catch. Live cats did he say?! Two did he say?! Oh, she would thoroughly enjoy this assessment. If she'd been a more pleasant cat, she might have been hopping from paw to paw in excitement, but she wasn't. She stood firm, her body language betraying nothing, although her eyes would tell Pripyat how incredibly thrilled she was.

"Who are we going after?" she asked, cooly. "Certainly not Clan cats, they'll send an army of their pathetic warriors after us if we attack them, and it will waste so much of our precious time disposing of them all."

...are words I scorn.

[Pripyat]

"Hm, Clan cats are certainly very easily offended," Pripyat meowed in agreement. "They'll be rogues; no one will miss them."
With that, the black tom padded forward, motioning for Scythepaw to follow. "I happened to come across a suitable cat not too long ago," he explained. "He looked to be a decent challenge. In a moment we'll--aha."

Pripyat stopped, angling his ears forward in excitement. "There," he breathed, his trademark smile flickering across his face.

Many tail-lengths away, a large tom was busy dining on a freshly-caught mouse. The wind blew his scent toward the BoneClan pair, and they were beyond his range of hearing; Chaostheory had no idea they were there.
He definately didn't look weak, though. He was very large, broad-shouldered and solidly muscled. A few light scars were visible through his thick brown-and-white fur.

Pripyat crouched, losing himself in the long grass. "What do you suppose we do now, Scythepaw?" he murmured.

It seemed like an innocent question, but this was an assesment: everything Pripyat said carried gravity.

[Shadow Spirit]

Quick and painless...

Scythepaw sized up her prey, crouching low in the grass with her mentor. She'd seen this cat before, when she was wandering the meadow as a rogue, but she didn't know much about him. It would take all her skill to determine the best way to bring down this burly tomcat.

"He's well-built, looks solid and sure on his feet...he's also got scars, so he's been in some tough battles..." she whispered to him. "Strength alone won't take him out, we'll have to be crafty and throw him off balance so we can get to his throat..."

Scythepaw purred pleasantly, the thought of blood washing over her tongue was alluring. She unsheathed her claws and dug them slightly into the dirt, anticipating their attack.

"You take the left and I'll have the right, we'll come at him from both sides because he can't take us both out at once," she said, licking her lips in anticipation. "I'll jump on his back and claw his eyes, so he loses sight of you...then...when he rolls to try and knock me off, you can go for the jugular..."

She narrowed her eyes at him, waiting to see if this suited his tastes.

...are words I scorn.

[Pripyat]

Pripyat gave his apprentice a long, blank look, turning over her words in his head. Then he grinned, curling his tail (coming from Pripyat, this is a sign of happiness).
Okay, so it wasn't exactly his style; he preferred to show himself to his opponent first for maximum fun, for one thing. But this was a teamwork exercise, and adapting was part of teamwork.
And Pripyat didn't exactly want to encourage such blatant recklessness in his apprentice anyway.

"A well-planned maneuver, my apprentice," he purred. Silently he turned, weaving his way through the long grass, his teeth parted and gleaming in the light.
Poor, bare teeth! Unused, wasted teeth! Why so sharp?
All the better to EAT you with, my dear!
Pripyat's smile grew.

He circled around, closing in on the big tom from the left. He hesitated, crouched low, his blue eyes flickering to Scythepaw. She was leading this attack; he awaited her move.

[Shadow Spirit]

Quick and painless...

Scythepaw smiled at her mentor's reaction. She'd begun to learn what excited him, and even his subtle gestures were becoming more familiar to her. As he crept away to the left, she circled right, keeping her dark coat hidden in the shadowy brush. Chaostheory was always in her sights. She kept one eye fixed on him at all times, to make sure he didn't notice them coming and flee. Though she needn't have worried. The dumbass was so fixated on filling his gut that he hadn't even looked up. It irritated her that such pathetic cats were allowed to survive. If she had her way, the weak would be rooted out from the start and exterminated.

She crouched very low, bracing her weight on her strong back legs and preparing to leap. Her claws were out and ready to deal death. Fangs glinting in the midday sun, she sprang out of the brush and spinted for the tom, leaping to come crashing down on his shoulders...

...are words I scorn.

[Pripyat]

Chaostheory leaped to his paws as a sudden weight struck across his shoulders, his claws flicking out. He twisted his head, aiming a vicious glare at the she-cat who had landed so abruptly on his back. "Vhat are you doing, you crazy she-cat?" he snarled, baring his teeth. His deep voice was distorted both by rage and by a heavy, foreign accent.
He shifted his weight and reared back, trying to dislodge Scythepaw.

At that very moment, Pripyat struck.
He darted from the underbrush to the left, his paws barely touching the ground before he was airborne again, his teeth parted to deal the finishing blow.
His razor fangs tore into Chaostheory's unprotected throat, a rush of hot blood flying from the gash in his wake.
Pripyat landed a heartbeat later, his face splattered with blood.
His grin showed every one of his teeth.

Chaostheory crashed to his paws, staring wildly at Pripyat with furious orange eyes. The knowledge of his wound hadn't seemed to hit him yet, although a widening pool of red was already growing beneath him.
Furthermore, he seemed to have temporarily forgotten the second member of his murderous party.

[Shadow Spirit]

Quick and painless...

Scythepaw grinned in absolute pleasure at the pool of blood gushing from Chaostheory's neck. He was so easily dealt with, it was almost dissapointing. She wanted so badly to leap off his shoulders and lap at the warm, crimson goodness collecting below, but her task was not over yet. Pripyat had said that they would kill this one together and the first one was supposed to suffer, only the second was to be fast.

Seizing her chance, she raked her claws through the tom's eyes. Slashing the gelatinous orbs was thrilling and she felt the joy out to the tip of her tail. After he was effectively blinded, she opened her jaws wide and bit deeply into the tender skin at the nape of his neck. A little deeper and she could have snapped his neck, ending it for good, but she was supposed to let this one have it rough. Besides, she was enjoying this far too much to end it so early...

...are words I scorn.

[Pripyat]

Chaostheory let out a scream of fury. In an instant Scythepaw's claws rendered him blind, but still he knew no fear.
He collapsed, spraying blood from his throat, splattering blood around him in a wide circle, weeping blood from his hollowed, sightless eyes. A low, crackling rumble idled in his chest.
Chaostheory struggled for a moment, already feeling the cold numbness rising from his paws; then he was up again, his paws skidding through puddles of red. He lashed out at the BoneClan cats with giant claws extended, his blows beating strongly at the air. He was dying, but his anger gave him the strength to fight back.

Pripyat ducked, flattening his ears at Chaostheory's claws swiped at the air a hair above his head. He coiled, his blunt claws gripping at the earth, then drove forward, his teeth flashing once, twice, three times. Cheek, shoulder, and ribs were laid open to the bone.
Then he leaped away, his wide zipper grin painted red.

Chaostheory roared in frustration. The scents of blood and his attackers swamped his nose, but he was helpless. The black one was too fast, and the other, too wily; neither would put themselves within reach of his claws.
His fur felt heavy with blood. The first waves of pain were building. Slowly, as the weakness rose to grip at his chest, Chaostheory's rage gave way to fear.

[Shadow Spirit]

Quick and painless...

Scythepaw leapt free of Chaostheory's back as she felt him giving way. The scent of his fear washed over him like the blood that was gathering at his paws. She eyed the raw, white bones exposed in the macabre gashes that Pripyat had made in his muscled body. She huffed in dissapointment, extremely annoyed. This cat was supposed to have been a challenge, but now they were watching him die, with barely any satisfaction to come of it. Too easy, far too easy. Her claws and fangs were already begging for more. More blood, more death, more...more...more...

"Oh Prip, you told me you'd find me a challenge for my assessment..." she feigned a whine, giving him a sinister smirk that their quarry couldn't possibly see. "I hope you've picked one who can actually fight for my solo assessment."

...are words I scorn.

[Pripyat]

Pripyat looked a tad dissapointed himself. "Alas, he looked tougher," he meowed, stepping daintily away from the dying tom, flicking drops of blood from his paws.

Now Chaostheory had fallen to screaming: long, keening cries of rage and pain and fear.
Beneath the noise, Pripyat smiled at his apprentice. "If you want a slow kill," he murmured conspiratorially, "Never go for the throat. They die too fast that way. Wear them down first; go for the eyes, the paws. If you can, break the spine--just above the rear legs. That's the best way. Spiderlilly and I took a cat that way, in the war. It was brilliant, he was paralyzed from the break on down. We took our time with him." He ran his tongue across his teeth bloodthirstily.

Chaostheory stumbled, slid, and fell with a thump.
Pripyat glanced over in suprise, as if he'd forgotten the blind tom was there. "I suppose we ought to finish the job," he said.
He padded toward the dying cat, and with a single flash of fangs, tore his ear from his head.

Chaostheory snarled, thrashing. He was paddling his paws in a sea of his blood now. His movements were sluggish and weak.
Pripyat stood over his quarry, looking down at him with an air of detatched curiosity.
Slowly, Chaostheory took a rattling breath and released it. A second breath followed. Then nothing.

Pripyat turned to Scythepaw. "Task one completed," he purred.

[Shadow Spirit]

Quick and painless...

Scythepaw was glad he seemed pleased, but she felt like his words had been a reprimand, not merely a suggestion. It should have been longer, it should have been far more terrifying. Was she losing her edge?

"So, now where are we off to?' she asked, not allowing herself time to second guess the success of their task.

...are words I scorn.

[Shadow Spirit]

OOC: KESTY...PLEASE REPLY!!! ;_;

[Pripyat]

"This way, my apprentice," the black tom purred, padding away, leaving his fallen foe to rot beneath an unsympathetic sky.
"This one, target number two?" He glanced back at Scythepaw, a lazy grin on his face. "This one's fiesty. It should be some fun."

Pripyat stopped suddenly, dropping smoothly into a crouch. "She's close," he murmured, sniffing delicately at the ground.
He pivoted silently to face Scythepaw. "Brown and white she-cat, white paws, large," he said quietly. "Very nearby. I want you to track her down and kill her. Neatly. The position she's chosen will make it hard to sneak up on her, but that's why this is a challenge."

His grin jumped wider for a moment, showing all of Pripyat's razor teeth. Then he backed up and vanished into the grass, leaving Scythepaw to do her business unfettered.
He would not be far.


Miss Murder was in a foul mood today. Not long ago, she had returned to DuskClan to check up on Sovereign, only to discover that he was dead. Her son, killed by an enemy Clanner! Laid low by weakling scum! Of course she was miffed that her son was dead and buried, but most of all, she was angry that her own flesh had fallen so far.
The poor fool, she grumbled to herself.
She tore sullenly at her prey, losing her appetite just thinking of the tragedy. Her blood should have bourne a stronger cat.

Every few heartbeats, the Snowshoe she-cat would glance around her, tasting the air for danger. She was not without enemies; that was why she took care to choose such a good, high vantage point. On this small hilltop, she could see a small ways around her.

[Shadow Spirit]

Quick and painless...

Scythepaw was determined to make this her best kill yet. She had to, if she was going to prove herself a BoneClan warrior. This was not just any assessment, it was the decision that would decide her life from now on. BoneClan did not allow pathetic cats with the skills of kittypets to remain in their clan. It was entirely possible, she believed, that BoneClan would not even allow cats such as that to live. Eyes focused on her target, Scythepaw began creeping her way forward, pausing every few foxlengths or so to test the air. She could definetely smell the target now, and she was getting closer every moment. Just ahead of her was a hill that rose many tail lengths over her head. If she kept on the way she was going now, the she-cat would definetely see her coming. So, Scythepaw changed her tactics...

She noticed a clump of bracken that stretched from her position, up the side of the hill and ended in a mess of tangled branches on top. BoneClan cats feared nothing, so she dove headlong into the thorny brambles. Slinking along, her pelt was scratched and torn many times, but she ignored the stinging pain. Careful not to rustle the branches and make noise, she placed each paw as if she were avoiding land mines. After many agonizing moments, she was just beside the she-cat, but so well camoflauged that she would never be seen. Crouching so low that her head fell below her shoulders, she prepared to spring. Just before she pounced, a wide and malicious grin curled across her maw.

In an instant she was in the air, claws unsheathed and fully extended. If the she-cat did not move in time, Scythepaw would dash the air from her lungs with a precisely grueling hit to her side...

...are words I scorn.

[Pripyat]

The snowshoe she-cat leaned away, spitting in furious suprise. Scythepaw struck a glancing blow across her side, bringing forth the scent of blood; but the rogue known as Miss Murder was no weakling. She slithered back, ignoring the gash on her side, breathing fast and hard to regain her lost breath.

She was pissed. Did this little kitten--this ugly little punk kitten--think she had the right or even the ability to take on Miss Murder?
(Note that deep-down, Murder was largely angry because Scythpaw had almost got the better of her.)
She stalked Scythepaw, her movements somehow spidery and low. "Who do you think you are?" she hissed softly. "Jumping me from behind like an assasin--mock-proffesional, kitten as you are--who taught a little scrap like you how to kill?"
Her accented voice was heavy with scorn. Still ignoring the searing pain across her ribs, she coiled and pounced, unsheathing claws seasoned with moons of killing.
She swiped openly at Scythepaw's face. She gave a snarl so sinister and full of rage it distorted her words: "Learn your place, kit!"

[Shadow Spirit]

Quick and painless...

Scythepaw was ready for Miss Murder's assault. She dodged the older she-cat's blows with ease, skidding back on her hind paws. Coiling her muscles to spring again, she watched the snowshoe's movements and saw that she was staggering a bit. The blow to her side had definetely connected and the malicious young she-cat felt a sneer spread across her face as she dove at Miss Murder's head...

...are words I scorn.