Dusk Syndicate Clearing

[Empress Of Evil]

Originally Posted by Duskflight

Just as her eyes bore into the ground, his eyes bore into her as he finished up eating the bird in front of him, the soft crunching and snapping of bones, the quiet ripping of flesh as he devoured the raven could be heard from where she sat, almost painstakingly certain that it was some sort of warning from the tom for his plans for her. But of course she wouldn't know that he doesn't kill random cats, no he kills very particular cats because he has only one rule and that one rule, whether you break it or not, can determine whether he'll end your life or not. There has only been one cat to escape his clutches and they were only able to because another cat just barely intervened. Perhaps he was planning his second and final ploy to kill that cat, perhaps not, perhaps he had settled for something that would end with a much more interesting result and that was causing her to slip into insanity. Or perhaps he would simply let her go. Hannibal was a very complicated cat as many cats would come to know. You could never tell what his next move would be, unless you knew that you had broken his rule.. But some cats had no clue about his rule, and that's a very bad mistake if you ever wish to speak to this tom. One slip up and you'll end up squirming in your own blood as he tears into you. Or perhaps he simply slits your throat and stands back to watch you bleed out. No one has lived to tell the tail of how Hannibal kills, except for that one cat, Illusion, his former trainee, but it would be doubtful she would tell you anyways. She was deceptive and you wouldn't be able to tell if she was telling the truth or not so really, she would be no use.
All of the bird except for the beak and part of the skull was now gone and the dark grey tom simply pushed that aside with a paw before turning to the innards, silently devouring them, taking his time, enjoying the flavor as they seeped into his maw, gaze still boring into Tundra as she got up and seemed to be padding towards the fresh kill pile and when she made it back to her original resting place (after causing the rest of the prey to go tumbling down, causing the pile to be scattered now, quite embarrassing for her), he had finished the rest of the bird that he had set aside and was washing his paws, his orange gaze not even seeming to blink, he had focused on her the entire time. What was going through his head? No cat would know.
After washing his paws and making sure his pelt was in check, he slowly rose to his paws and began to pad towards the white she-cat, his expression as blank and as emotionless as usual. "Greetings Tundra, mind if I join you for a little.. Chit-chat?" Inquired the tom, standing a foot or two away from her, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth slowly as he waited for her to answer. In all truth, he had nothing better to do and so he had decided why not.. Poke at her a bit? Probe her? See what her mind was made of. She looked weak, weak of mind and weak of spirit and could be an easy target should he ever want to.. Pick and push at that brain.. Send it tottering over. But he wouldn't do that now. No, he would simply observe her through conversation, as he did with some cats when he didn't quite feel like going for a stroll.

Tundra settled back down in a comfortable sitting position. Her white, gleaming teeth tore at the soft, mouth watering flesh of the plump squirrel. Crimson droplets of liquid sliding from her sharp teeth, passing her lips and then reaching the fur on her chin. Tundra really did quite find blood quite disgusting, but when she was actually eating the prey....blood tasted a little more....satisfying. Tundra's eyes slowly moved up slightly as she heard the tearing of soft flesh. Flesh that belonged to another piece of prey, not hers. Hannibal's. Tundra wanted to shy away. Was Hannibal making those noises on purpose? Or was that just how the way he ate sounded like? Tundra decided to just keep concentrating on the squirrel in front of her. Her delicate bites becoming more quick and a little less delicate. She kept eating until all that was left in front of her was red tainted bones and a small skull that once belonged to a squirrel. Tundra licked her lips and her chin, tasting the blood on the tip of her tongue. After eating the squirrel her embarrassment seemed to have washed away a little. She still felt fairly embarrassed from her earlier encounter with the fresh kill pile but she had calmed down. She made a mental note to herself to learn how to properly take a piece of prey from the pile without knocking the whole thing down. Tundra unsheathed her claws and starting to dig a small hole into the ground with her right paw. Making a small, neat pile of dirt next to the hole. When she thought the hole was deep enough she used her left paw to swipe the pile of bones into the hole. Then she pushed the pile of dirt back into the hole and patting and smoothing the ground. Once she finished she sheathed her claws back in and sat there, simply staring at the ground, blinking occasionally. When she had nothing to do she tended to do this. What better way to pass the time? A deep and monotone voice suddenly interrupted her staring contest with the ground. She froze and slowly moved her head up to look at the face of which the voice belonged to. Hannibal.
Tundra stared at Hannibal for a moment. But just then. He wasn't here a moment ago. How did he get here?!, Tundra thought, trying not to meet gazes with Hannibal. She decided to focus on his ears instead. Why his ears? No particular reason. How long had Hannibal been standing there? Had he just got there or had he watched her eat her squirrel? Tundra opened her mouth to reply but stopped just as she was about to start. She closed her mouth, trying to ignore the fact she looked like a fish that had a slow moving mouth. How should she reply? She didn't want to have a 'chit chat' with Hannibal. Not one bit! But then if she denied his suggestion he might get mad and try to kill her. Tundra wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. She was way too young to die! But then, how much would it hurt to just have a small chat? Not much right? Tundra kept herself from running away like a coward. For goodness sake! It was just talking to a cat. That was incredibly creepy and fully capable of killing her in a second. Well anyway she was going to find out soon because her mouth opened and the words tumbled out automatically. "Sure", Tundra said awkwardly, trying to sound cheerful but failing miserably. She realised she was still staring at his ears and quickly averted her gaze. Don't kill me. Don't kill me.

[oats]

(open post.)
Tohu wa bohu.

Formless and shapeless; it was what Lazarus wanted him to be ever since his kitting- he only expected the best from his son. He had to be the fastest, the strongest, the smartest. The perfect son to carry on his family's legacy, and ensure their rise to grace in the Dusk Syndicate.Yet it was never enough. Being trained as a Fighter by his father like his father before him, Tohu's upbringing wasn't exactly unique amongst his kin. He was but another sire of another generation of his line. Nothing more, nothing less. Someone had made it well-known that he wouldn't make it anywhere in life.

'You're nothing to me.' He would never impress anyone. 'Just like your father.' It seemed as if brutal honesty was something that ran in the family, as even Tehom expressed his disappointment in him- the healer had wanted her best, her only (The tom had been the only surviving kit in the litter,) to be like her. To break the line.

And yet, he couldn't even do that right.

There was a slight chill to the air that morn, and yet, Tohu was finding it quite difficult to enjoy the weather that usually gave his perception of things a sense of clarity; preparedness was something he appreciated, but ever since he had awoken, there was a grim reminder of past transgressions that had made itself apparent but a few heartbeats ago. He would probably seek someone out to talk about it, but to be quite honest, it was becoming more and more difficult to do anything when he was preoccupied with more important things, like conjuring baseless auguries of mortal peril.

You know, 'important things.'
Anyways, Tohu padded into the clearing with nothing but bleak thoughts in his mind, looking quite despondent.

[The Cannibal]

Originally Posted by Empress Of Evil

Tundra settled back down in a comfortable sitting position. Her white, gleaming teeth tore at the soft, mouth watering flesh of the plump squirrel. Crimson droplets of liquid sliding from her sharp teeth, passing her lips and then reaching the fur on her chin. Tundra really did quite find blood quite disgusting, but when she was actually eating the prey....blood tasted a little more....satisfying. Tundra's eyes slowly moved up slightly as she heard the tearing of soft flesh. Flesh that belonged to another piece of prey, not hers. Hannibal's. Tundra wanted to shy away. Was Hannibal making those noises on purpose? Or was that just how the way he ate sounded like? Tundra decided to just keep concentrating on the squirrel in front of her. Her delicate bites becoming more quick and a little less delicate. She kept eating until all that was left in front of her was red tainted bones and a small skull that once belonged to a squirrel. Tundra licked her lips and her chin, tasting the blood on the tip of her tongue. After eating the squirrel her embarrassment seemed to have washed away a little. She still felt fairly embarrassed from her earlier encounter with the fresh kill pile but she had calmed down. She made a mental note to herself to learn how to properly take a piece of prey from the pile without knocking the whole thing down. Tundra unsheathed her claws and starting to dig a small hole into the ground with her right paw. Making a small, neat pile of dirt next to the hole. When she thought the hole was deep enough she used her left paw to swipe the pile of bones into the hole. Then she pushed the pile of dirt back into the hole and patting and smoothing the ground. Once she finished she sheathed her claws back in and sat there, simply staring at the ground, blinking occasionally. When she had nothing to do she tended to do this. What better way to pass the time? A deep and monotone voice suddenly interrupted her staring contest with the ground. She froze and slowly moved her head up to look at the face of which the voice belonged to. Hannibal.
Tundra stared at Hannibal for a moment. But just then. He wasn't here a moment ago. How did he get here?!, Tundra thought, trying not to meet gazes with Hannibal. She decided to focus on his ears instead. Why his ears? No particular reason. How long had Hannibal been standing there? Had he just got there or had he watched her eat her squirrel? Tundra opened her mouth to reply but stopped just as she was about to start. She closed her mouth, trying to ignore the fact she looked like a fish that had a slow moving mouth. How should she reply? She didn't want to have a 'chit chat' with Hannibal. Not one bit! But then if she denied his suggestion he might get mad and try to kill her. Tundra wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. She was way too young to die! But then, how much would it hurt to just have a small chat? Not much right? Tundra kept herself from running away like a coward. For StarClan's sake! It was just talking to a cat. That was incredibly creepy and fully capable of killing her in a second. Well anyway she was going to find out soon because her mouth opened and the words tumbled out automatically. "Sure", Tundra said awkwardly, trying to sound cheerful but failing miserably. She realised she was still staring at his ears and quickly averted her gaze. Don't kill me. Don't kill me.

Hannibal ate the same way every single time, being a very methodical cat in his ways, including his grooming habits, so the sounds he was making, though unintentional, were like that every time he feasted. Most cats learned to block out the unpleasant sounds, others were completely disgusted by it, others saw it as a sign that he was warning them that they were to be his next victim. It depended on the cat on how they interpreted it, but unknown to them, Hannibal meant nothing by it.
Waiting patiently after he had spoken, his eye's remained focused on hers, almost as if to lock her into place, trapping her in their orange pits until she answered, then, maybe he would grace her by looking away for even just a few seconds. His tail flicked slowly back and forth as he waited for the white she-cats reply, not making a sound or even a move aside from his tail. His face remained stony as her mouth gaped open and then closed and repeated as if a fish gasping for air, perhaps stunned by his approach to her? Likely. And then after what seemed like a painful time for Tundra, she finally spilled out an answer, an empty purr escaping him, it was filled with artificial happiness that could almost be mistaken for the real thing. "Thank you." Meowed the tom, politely enough, stepping forward to settle down next to her.
"I have to say, I don't think I recall having met you madam. Might I ask your name?" Hannibal began to nonchalantly groom his shoulder, his orange hues focused on her and only her. This conversation was completely harmless for her, unless she happened to screw up and break the only rule he had, but it was beneficial for him. He liked to keep tabs on every cat he came across, storing the information he gathered into his mind palace so that if it was ever needed, he could pull it out and use another day. Should she ever do anything to endanger him, or should she ever commit a crude act, he would use all of the information he gathers on her to determine how he would proceed with her. Some cats weren't worth the time it spent in driving them insane and so he would simply end her if it came down to it, some cats were worth putting the time into torturing them mentally and so he would perhaps drive her into the pit of insanity in which she would never return. Or perhaps she would stay on his good side, if that was even a thing with Hannibal. The conversation they have will determine her fate with him, and if that didn't put some weight on the already heavy atmosphere between them, then I don't know what would.

[vos]

Due to the lack of interest in the Dusk Syndicate during the EE, I'm here to collect a handful of DS cats to travel into the clan territories. By now, the DS should have broken Renn's law and filtered into the main plotline, but no progress has been made as of yet.

That's going to change. Rook will be looking for a minimum of 4 cats to journey alongside him before he heads into the woods. I'm only looking for select cats here to ensure participation. Anyone else is fully welcome to join him.

Rook had always been a subordinate. Outlawing interaction with the clan cats was a rule he could understand at the time, when they had been weak and spindly, sickly excuses for cats -- alone, a member of the syndicate would never have held their own against a cat hailing from a community as tightly knit as a clan might’ve been. Might’ve been, because there’s something unnerving happening beyond their crooked borders.

Today, he graduates from subordinate. Today, he’ll push his kin into action. To be damned with Renn’s law. They are no longer weak.


“It is time,” his baritone rumbles, his unprompted announcement gaining him the attention of a few sets of eyes. Pushing from the ground, he takes a spot on the highest point, claws clambering for footing atop the fighter’s den. The clearing of his throat is loud, purposefully so. A thrum of pleasure pulses through his chest to see a few more heads turn toward him. "Renn has abandoned us. If you still cling onto some false hope that he might return, I recommend familiarizing yourself with the concept of 'reality'. Accept the abandonment, and persevere."

"Who are we to remain under the rule of a commander who has long since vanished from our lives?" Silence falls -- he half-expects someone to call out to him, to disagree. He only finds them to be solemn and accepting. Perhaps processing it themselves. Pale eyes drift away from the faces of the others, turning upwards toward the heavens. A sparrow glides by, far too high up to ever be caught. Rook continues. "...His disappearance aside, the true reason as to why I wanted your attention deserves to be brought to light."

"I trust that I am not the only cat to have seen the flames." The tom jerks his head to the side, motioning towards the horizon, where smoke had bloomed only a few evenings before, clouding above the conifers and choking away a setting sun. "I'll be going out to investigate. Those who are healthy enough to join me, I ask that you will."

"—Know that this venture will not be conducted under malicious intent. No clan cats will be harmed unprompted."

[AbsurdJinx]

Augustus was quick to jump to his paws. After Renn's sudden disappearance, he had been doing everything possible to keep his mind off it. ``I'll go!`` He called out. Though he respected Renn, his brother, his best friend, his commander, he needed to move on. Surely the trip Rook announced would succeed in approving Augustus' intentions. He stepped forward slightly, his triangular-shaped head risen towards the sky. His posture was rather impressive, and his thin tail lashed behind him. There was an obvious confidence, and yearning in his eyes. How he dreamed of actually doing something, and now he had his chance. He wouldn't do it in fear, he would do it with courage. It was the least he could offer Renn.

[Autumnblaze]

Originally Posted by mirefern

Due to the lack of interest in the Dusk Syndicate during the EE, I'm here to collect a handful of DS cats to travel into the clan territories. By now, the DS should have broken Renn's law and filtered into the main plotline, but no progress has been made as of yet.

That's going to change. Rook will be looking for a minimum of 4 cats to journey alongside him before he heads into the woods. I'm only looking for select cats here to ensure participation. Anyone else is fully welcome to join him.

Rook had always been a subordinate. Outlawing interaction with the clan cats was a rule he could understand at the time, when they had been weak and spindly, sickly excuses for cats -- alone, a member of the syndicate would never have held their own against a cat hailing from a community as tightly knit as a clan might’ve been. Might’ve been, because there’s something unnerving happening beyond their crooked borders.

Today, he graduates from subordinate. Today, he’ll push his kin into action. To be damned with Renn’s law. They are no longer weak.


“It is time,” his baritone rumbles, his unprompted announcement gaining him the attention of a few sets of eyes. Pushing from the ground, he takes a spot on the highest point, claws clambering for footing atop the fighter’s den. The clearing of his throat is loud, purposefully so. A thrum of pleasure pulses through his chest to see a few more heads turn toward him. "Renn has abandoned us. If you still cling onto some false hope that he might return, I recommend familiarizing yourself with the concept of 'reality'. Accept the abandonment, and persevere."

"Who are we to remain under the rule of a commander who has long since vanished from our lives?" Silence falls -- he half-expects someone to call out to him, to disagree. He only finds them to be solemn and accepting. Perhaps processing it themselves. Pale eyes drift away from the faces of the others, turning upwards toward the heavens. A sparrow glides by, far too high up to ever be caught. Rook continues. "...His disappearance aside, the true reason as to why I wanted your attention deserves to be brought to light."

"I trust that I am not the only cat to have seen the flames." The tom jerks his head to the side, motioning towards the horizon, where smoke had bloomed only a few evenings before, clouding above the conifers and choking away a setting sun. "I'll be going out to investigate. Those who are healthy enough to join me, I ask that you will."

"—Know that this venture will not be conducted under malicious intent. No clan cats will be harmed unprompted."

Patchy jumped up next to Rook and spoke aloud, "Renn was our commander, but he has gone now. But first, I think a new leader needs to be appointed, and a secret needs to be revealed. I think Rook should be commander, and I have secret I can't keep no longer! Remember Maximum, Onyx and Salem's sister? Well after she died, she visited me in the Dark Forest. I know a lot of you don't believe in that, but she told me she'd never leave, and I watched her spirit climb inside of my kit Lake. I am visited by The Dark Forest every night to train. Rook should be our commander! I don't care if have to wait many moons to finally be commander, right now, we need someone we can trust, and I'm not known well by the Syndicate so it'd be pointless to make me commander. Rook would lead us to be great again! And with that said, I will go!" She felt confident spilling her secret among the syndicate cats. She looked around, ready for some feedback.

[vos]

Originally Posted by Dux

Augustus was quick to jump to his paws. After Renn's sudden disappearance, he had been doing everything possible to keep his mind off it. ``I'll go!`` He called out. Though he respected Renn, his brother, his best friend, his commander, he needed to move on. Surely the trip Rook announced would succeed in approving Augustus' intentions. He stepped forward slightly, his triangular-shaped head risen towards the sky. His posture was rather impressive, and his thin tail lashed behind him. There was an obvious confidence, and yearning in his eyes. How he dreamed of actually doing something, and now he had his chance. He wouldn't do it in fear, he would do it with courage. It was the least he could offer Renn.

Rook's head bobs in Augustus' direction, accepting the other tom's offer of companionship on the journey. The travel won't take long at all. Perhaps an hour at most. He still continues waiting, eyes narrowed in thought.

They widen considerably at Patchy's unwanted interruption. She tears attention away from him, draws a hiss of a noise from his nose. Biting his words out through his grit teeth, he resists shoving her away from him -- out of his personal space. Instead, he remains as calm as he can be. Leveling a calm, only mildly irritated glance over to the molly, he responds after a beat of silence.

"No."

[Autumnblaze]

Originally Posted by mirefern

Rook's head bobs in Augustus' direction, accepting the other tom's offer of companionship on the journey. The travel won't take long at all. Perhaps an hour at most. He still continues waiting, eyes narrowed in thought.

They widen considerably at Patchy's unwanted interruption. She tears attention away from him, draws a hiss of a noise from his nose. Biting his words out through his grit teeth, he resists shoving her away from him -- out of his personal space. Instead, he remains as calm as he can be. Leveling a calm, only mildly irritated glance over to the molly, he responds after a beat of silence.

"No."

"Why can't I come?" Patchy tried to stay calm but she instinctively bristled and unsheathed her claws. "I'm supporting you! I must go! Renn knew I was ready to join, and just Because I used to be ThunderClan, doesn't mean I don't get certain privileges! I fought and killed to get into the syndicate! I killed my mentor and blinded Maximum just to get where I am! I left because they didn't like me, I dont want the same here!" Her eyes glazed over in sadness. She sensed a spirit behind her as Orangeheart walked up. She didn't think the others could see her dead mates spirit, but him being there made her feel more confident. "They won't get rid of you, don't worry" Orangeheart nuzzled her on the cheek then faded away.

[Gusty]

"Well, well, it sees that there's a journey ahead of us. Well, for some of us anyways, whoever's going on this mission." Shale's voice broke through the texture of the crowd, perking his head and ears up at Rook's grand speech. He was slightly amused by Rook's answer to Patchy, and how subtle his answer had been: 'no'. And because of this, the pitch-black fighter continued walking, raising his rump and padding closer towards Rook and the other members.
But then, his eyes widened. Shale began thinking to himself... What if he were to join on that mission? Oh, the black tomcat really did want to; it was in his greatest desires to get noticed by his fellow syndicate-mates and do something extraordinary. Something that nobody would believe; something that would make him more special than any other fighter in the world! His green orbs moved from feline to feline, observing them and wondering if they'd want to go on the journey as much as he did. Augustus and Patchy surely felt the same, as their voices sprang up quickly.
But Patchy's reaction, however... well, she seemed quite snappy. And probably not the best cat to bring on a journey: but then again, this was only the fighter's mere opinion. What he believed, was that he himself should go on the mission. But for now, he simply stood for a bit, awaiting for Rook's response.

[Brunch]

Gazing thoughtfully around the clearing, Talon sighed; the Dusk Syndicate was now without a commander, without leadership. The speckled white she-cat could tell that her home would soon fall into chaos, and she knew that there was nothing she could do about it. Talon's tail flicked suddenly as irritation spread through her; the fighter hated it when she couldn't do anything to help, couldn't do anything to stop the problem. The she-cat paced in a small circle, Talon's mouth was twitching, as though threatening to let out a snarl. Her lash of anger was not at any cats relaxing in the cool clearing, but at the world for letting her syndicate to fall into such discord and disarray. Talon's paws kneaded the soft, cool, muddy ground beneath her, creating large paw prints that only circled in the ground. "Why?" the she-cat muttered under her breath; Talon felt as though she should curse in a slight yowl, though she disciplined herself to stay quiet, to contain herself, no matter how hard. She plopped herself in the middle of the circle she had created out of paw prints. Talon grumbled slightly to herself as she slowly started to clean her paws of the grunge that still stuck to them. Her normally white paws were a light brown-grey, and mudcaked from her recent pacing. The she-cat swiped her tongue over her paw one final time, only to brush it against her face; the anxiety that was stirring slightly in her made the she-cat do the strange things that she had displayed to the clearing. Though the she-cat was worried about the predicament that had arisen in her syndicate, Talon was not going to worry over what cat thought she looked silly doing her strange actions. If she was even going to react to their actions, she would have just swatted them over the face with her paw, and started her strange actions once again.