[center][color=808B96][h2][b]A t h e l s t a n[/b][/h2]Greenband Recruit [b]-[/b] Hall of Trials[/color][/center]
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[color=BBAB68][i]I’m sure glad I came here prepared. Can’t imagine sortin’ through a pile of rubbish weapons with dozens of oth’rs would feel very fun. Then again, ain’t here to have fun much; here to join and serve the watch so shite like that raid back home don’t happen to anymouse if I can help it. Fuck’n take a lot more than harsh words and a pointed glare to get me to turn tail. I ain’t no coward. I ain’t.[/i][/color]

Athelstan of Cottonmouth’s rightmost paw moved to the harness that held his clawed sword in place. As [i]confident[/i] as he may have been, he would be lying to himself if he tried to make the claim that he wasn’t anxious or nervous. But after witnessing squirrels drop down from the sky and slit the necks of the good people of Cottonmouth, he was absolutely certain that whatever he saw and had to contend with in the trials wouldn’t faze him. But given by the step of the senior watchmouse and the look of the strange platform Athelstan wasn’t sure to make of anything. Was it some sort of battle circle? A trapdoor that would drop them into some sort of gauntlet? It was hard to guess given his lack of experience with fancy things designed by builders and masons. He wasn’t smart with such things, but when it came to iron and steel, anvil and hammer, cloth and needle? That was something he knew.

He moved closer to the platform and the senior watchmouse. He gave him a respectful nod. [color=BBAB68]“Ser.”[/color]

The initiative in being ready was one thing he had over the brood of recruits… well, outside of a girl that held a hammer with confidence; a hammer that appeared masterwork in design. Athelstan wasn’t sure if the girl or the hammer interested him more. He didn’t allow himself to be distracted by the thought however and kept his attention to the senior watchmouse.

[color=BBAB68]“I’m ready.”[/color]