[The Cannibal]

Originally Posted by Celestial

@Duskflight
I've been feeling quite scatter brained lately so roleplay won't exactly be fantastic



Bare branches criss crossed the sky above ajax's head. Their leafless bark scraping against each other as the wind puffed a breath. The silent Tom was moving gently between the roots of the trees in absolute silence. There was growing bitter cold that was sweeping into the valley ever since the battle at the Warriors gathering place. Whatever it was called again. Ajax had attended but hadn't made an appearance to the clan cats, he simply mirrored a few warriors than moved off into his own solitary world again. Like onyx would have done if he where still here. The toms eye jerked slightly at the thought of onyx with a pressuring weight adding to his chest. Memories he wished dearly to forget. As he continued his home coming into view he picked up the pace to a trot weaving his way under logs and between mounds of thicket. He could have moved through the territory with his eyes closed if he had wanted to. He slowed when he came to a particular bend leaping up to a singular rock. Seated alone at the bend of a creek he simply examined the movement of the water. Each of his ink black paws neatly placed on the rock, claws out, scraping at the rock below him. He didn't seem to particularly be doing anything but just watching as the creek slowly slugged on.

{It's quite alright my friend! I'm sure you'll do fine }


The battle had been interesting, though Hannibal would have to say that he much preferred one-on-one fights as opposed to a thriving, fighting mass that was full of chaos and disorder. As many cats knew, the dark tom was a particularly orderly cat that seemed to follow his own strict set of rules and procedures that were only known by him, but where precise in every way they could be. Even if the reasoning couldn't be fully determined, it was always known that there was a reasoning behind it because Hannibal fully despised the idea of doing something irrationally or without reason.
And he had fully known that the Syndicate would be gunned down in the battle, that it would be their final undoing sending them scattering like mice, at least the ones who had survived. And he relished that idea. He had grown to dislike the Syndicate and their ruthless, reckless ways. Killing cats with no particular reason in mind, aside from trying to assert power. Power was something that he didn't care about. Power was meaningless. Information, now that's what Hannibal sought. To him, cats were nothing more than little pockets of information to be used up, and when their use was gone, they would be terminated for they no longer held use to him. Sometimes he would keep them around if they intrigued him to some degree, but for the most part, if Hannibal grew bored, you were simply not heard from again.
And now. With the Syndicate broken up, he was free to travel where he pleased. But even before it had broken up, he had plans on traveling to the clans. He had information he wanted to update. And currently, he was headed to the one known as Riverclan.
His dark grey paws carried him quietly over the bed of dead leaves, his tail lowered but not touching the ground and his eyes focused forward, to where he was moving. The familiar tingle of thirst beckoned to him at the sound of trickling water, likely from an approaching creek and so he decided now would be a good time to get a quick drink before continuing on his journey.
Now water wasn't the only thing that Hannibal smelled, he had picked up the scent of a cat, not one that he particularly recognized, but a cat nonetheless. But he would act as if he hadn't. It didn't interest him and he didn't care to approach it directly.
As he reached the creeks edge, he settled down and began to lap at it, his fiery hues staring blankly at the water as he drank, his ears perked up attentively. There wasn't a time he seemed to let his guard down.