duskclan BURN THIS CITY | a stranger

[DEACON]

When foreign scents entered the Twolegplace and cats went missing, Deacon took notice. It was difficult not to when it became the talk of the town, tidbits of a life free from their boredom shared between bouts of battle over scraps. What had started off as curiosity turned into a full mission the further they got away from the stone camp, too far to turn back, too close to presume they could follow the smells the whole way.

A few days later, they could follow the smells the whole way.

Paws ached and a familiar nag of hunger pinched their belly as they crossed onto land familiar from a lifetime ago, their ears pricked and sharp eyes alert. The land was... poor. They recalled their family never spent much time around there, then when they joined the Ripple Colony, almost all memory of the scrublands disappeared. They'd never looked back beyond the mountains until they'd been forced to, now, it was the only life they knew. And Rats was it ever a miserable one without their crew. Deacon didn't know how to think they were trying to emulate the old times by seeking out strangers, all they believed was the mystery rogues would provide a necessity sorely missed from the exile's time. They blinked and, for just a moment, they saw a set of ears in the distance perk up. Seeing life in a lifeless place for the first time sent a spark of excitement to their worn heart and with a renewed sense of purpose, they hopped onto a small mound of earth to assess them.

They slowly took stock of the situation, their head turning left and right as they watched the strangers go about their business. A camp (or the flimsiest definition they'd seen of one) lay in a small dip within the ground and briefly, Deacon had to wonder just how high the rainwater would reach on their wiry frames. It was perfectly uncomfortable, not like the clans, who took the finest parts of the forest for themselves and stole hard-earned prey off of those too hesitant to join a groupthink dream. And yet something was missing... some spark to want to change their circumstances. Others looked too comfortable moving about the dip, their paws too practiced, the anger behind their gazes too well hidden for the rebel to see.

Their tail lashed as they announced their presence. "Well this place is looking glum."

​

 

[Mizzlepaw]

Mizzlekit has been learning to make the most of the land in front of him, he could remain planted in spot and sulk over the separation from his momma. Which he did. For many nights in fact. But now! He was ready to craft his own adventure, one that was full of opportunities for stories so he can go home and recount them to a captivated audience. Granted nothing was really exciting enough to recount right now, he saw a lizard once and he would argue that's pretty exciting but that's about it right now. Arethusakit called this place ugly and she was right but when isn't she?

He had his head stuck into a bush, tactfully avoiding briars and stray twigs in favour for searching after another lizard. Mizzlekit's luck wasn't getting any better today compared to the other days here. Once again devoid of anything enriching, slowly accepting that maybe he will have to lie about the stories he wants to tell. That was until an unfamiliar voice sparked his attention, the small body jumps and patched head swivels to try and catch a glimpse of who could be speaking. The young tom had assumed that he's met all of the duskclanners that were here but clearly he was wrong! There's a familiar scent clinging to them, the haze of Twolegplace clinging to a black pelt. The first thought that crosses his mind is that this stranger must also know his momma just by association of them being from the same area.

"HIII NICE TO MEET YOU!" He shouts excitedly as adolescent limbs carry him at a break neck speed across from where he was beside the bush. The concept that this stranger may have some ill intent is completely lost on the tom, only assuming the best intentions. If they didn't want to be friends or weren't friendly in general then they wouldn't be assumedly so polite. "I'm Mizzlekit! What's your name?" A myriad of questions rest at the tip of his tongue and he can't wait to explode into a ball of curiosity once given an inch.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✦ ‎Call me fighter ☾ Call me lover ✦ ‎

• 
  Power play perms given to anyone to stop this child from running up to Deacon
  

• 

• MIZZLEKIT ✦ he/him, kit of DuskClan.
  ✧ A small scrap of white and black fur with tireless energy.
  ✧ Son of Edenberry and Rumblerain || Brother to Berrykit
  ✧ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted || underline and tag when attacking
  ✧ speech is #dbcbed
  ✧ penned by Juice || ouijeejuice on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[GRAVELSPARK]

Gravel is shy nowadays, or maybe they just don't care enough to talk with others. Since the disappearance of their mentor they've been in a heartbroken limbo, not wanting to do things or even get up from their poorly made nest. They're more content to sit and rot than be a participating member of the clan...

But then Rumblerain dropped off kittens... Their kittens, unbeknownst to Gravelpaw who doesn't quite care enough to remember familial relations within Duskclan. Like they had with Vulturekit, like they had with Hungerpaw, they remain ever vigiliant and ever watchful over them... Just from the sidelines. Thats why when Mizzle breaks out in to a sprint Gravelpaw is quick on their paws, sprinting straight after them, especially when an unknown voice rings in their ears.

Finally, when she catches up with Mizzle, they grab him by the scruff, pulling back to reign him closer to them. Gravel stands over them protectively, fur bristling as if it were a Windclanner standing in front of them and not just another unfortunate soul that disgraces the wastelands. "What do you want?!" ears pin backwards, claws unsheath as if they'd have to use them, and the lanky felines gums pull back, fiercely upset over the fact that this cat had just waltzed in like they owned the place. "This isn't your home." who just... walks in like that? Gravelpaw certainly doesn't know them... And they've been in the clan for almost six moons now...

𝖨𝖵𝖤 𝖡𝖤𝖤𝖭 𝖠𝖫𝖫 𝖮𝖴𝖳 𝖮𝖥 𝖣𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖬𝖲 ˚⋆｡°✩₊🦇 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖢𝖠𝖭𝖳 𝖲𝖠𝖸 𝖨 𝖣𝖨𝖣𝖭𝖳 𝖳𝖱𝖸

• 
  ❥ gravelpaw 𓆩✧𓆪 baby, gravelkit
  ❥ demi-girl 𓆩✧𓆪 she/they 𓆩✧𓆪 08 months
  ❥ duskclan apprentice 𓆩✧𓆪 mentored by thriftfeather
  ❥ black/blue smoke chimera with high white and blue eyes
  ❥ "speech, 9d9adf" 𓆩✧𓆪 thoughts
  ❥ single 𓆩✧𓆪 not interested in love (unknown sexuality)
  ❥ smells like chilled rain and pine needles 𓆩✧𓆪 nostalgic & icy
  ❥ penned by chuff

 

[DEACON]

Hazelnut eyes widened as a child was the first one to come barrelling towards them, feeling a pang of sympathy that something so tiny was forced to grow up somewhere so... unaccommodating to the tiny. "Woah, easy there duck," they called out as the little one showed no signs of stopping, falling back on their haunches in case no one was able to stop him. Luckily, a young-looking cat stepped out of the shadows to grab the youth before she completely crossed the distance, a withering display of gratitude offered to Gravelpaw. It was short-lived as they looked back towards the first cat to spot them. "Mizzle... kit?" Deacon snorted, looking the other up and down. 'What'd you do to get exiled?' It was probably a crossclan mother with a deadbeat father, with kittens punished for sins that they couldn't possibly be responsible for. There was solace in his narrative, at the very least, that parent and child hadn't been ripped apart as RiverClan had wished for.

There was a declaration that it wasn't their home, that perhaps, he wasn't supposed to be there - then again, a clan of rogues wasn't supposed to be in the Twolegplace either. "Nah, but it could be," they beamed impudently towards the second of the youths, their tail giving a gentle lash to and fro. "You've been skulkin' about the Twolegplace for some time now, figured I'd introduce myself seeing how you ain't seen the best bloody thing there." A grin stretched across his muzzle, his forelimbs squaring slightly to give the pair a better look at 'the best bloody thing in the Twolegplace.' Maybe they didn't look like much, but fighting was in their blood, if they weren't scrapping, there was something wrong.

"Name's Deacon. Former RiverClanner, currently fuck-all. You open to invites for... whatever this is?"




​

 

[RUMBLERAIN]

"Miz- oh, for StarClan's sake." Rumblerain's double-take and subsequent hiss as they see their son tottering off is entirely too visible, trotting over in pursuit of the two younger cats as Gravelpaw tries to sort this out on her own. Her accosting of the stranger makes their heart warm, a pleased glance passed in the direction of the young molly, and then narrowing in thought as they request to join.

"DuskClan." They answer him with a twitch of their ears, curiosity flashing across their features. This stranger seems vaguely familiar, but not enough so that Rumblerain recognises them. Deacon, they say their name is, cementing that confusion even more. No, Rumblerain had not met this cat. A former RiverClanner, too; Deacon would not be in familiar company all the way beneath Highstones as they are now.

Something akin to amusement enters their voice as they continue, "You followed us from Twolegplace? Why didn't you just join us then?"

ooc ✧ 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦

•  
• 
  
  [ art by antiigone ]
• RUMBLERAIN ✧ they/them, leader of duskclan
  
  
  — "a lanky, scruffy seal and white point with blue eyes."
  — single ; no apprentice
  — speech is in #858AC0
  — tags | penned by mercibun, contact on discord for plots.
  
  
  
  

​

 

[Possumscratch.]

IF I DON'T GO TO HELL
WHEN I DIE I MIGHT GO TO HEAVEN ​

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possumscratch & 22 moons & trans masc & he/they & duskclan rogue ​

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" Deacon? That's not much fof a clan name, " comes cheerful chittering as Possumscratch slinks out from stars knows where - amber eyes glinting with interest. He wonders if deacon is like Sandra, a name before a name, taken back once he'd fled from whatever had tied him down to the clans. He wonders if he'd answer if they asked - and what it'd be that sent him running to them. Annoying kits? A too-clingy mate? " Hah, "

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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M I G H T ━ G O ━ T O ━ H E A V E N , ━ B U T ━ P R O B A B L Y ━ N O T !

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[DEACON]

DuskClan. They turned their head towards the young cat, scarred brows knitting. 'Kit... Clan... righteous aggression... bloody hell they're posing as the real thing!' Deacon sucked in a breath, unsure whether to be perturbed by a fact or saddened by it. Everyone looked much younger than them, if they wanted to be clanners then they shouldn't be denied, if they had been kicked out then they were far too young to know the weight of their mistakes. The black tabby looked away and closed their eyes, finding that pang of sympathy unsightly for someone like them.

Rumblerain snapped them out of it before they could say anything too sentimental. They flashed their teeth towards the leader lightheartedly. "Wanted to check you were legit. You know how dodgy it looks to have a bunch of strangers come through and pluck rogues out of the Twolegplace never to be seen again?" They rolled their shoulders and flopped back onto their haunches just in time to hear a new voice, the sudden tonal shift causing the tom to twist their head.

They didn't flinch at the sudden peal of laughter, instead, only ruminating on what was mentioned before. "Yeah, had a clan name, some forced conformity mousedung onto me. Practically begged to let me use my given name and they told me to pound sand, said my comfort weren't as important as their culture or whatever," His ears flicked in agitation, the full story feeling too distant and too soon. "That name's been crowfood since the moment I heard it. I'm Deacon no matter what came before, that gonna be a problem if I stick around?"

​

 

[RUMBLERAIN]

"Culture is important, and is what separates us from rogues; but a name is what you make of it. You don't need to change that to stay." Rumblerain observes, directing a thoughtful blink towards Deacon. They're struck with the feeling that Sootstar would be rolling in her grave at the assurance, but desperation dampens their righteous fire into a sodden silence. They could use all the paws they could get. This cat sounded like they had experience with the Clans, though their disparaging tone makes Rumblerain wonder faintly if they would abandon the cause within a moon. Their tail flicks, as if an echo of Possumscratch's cackle had hit them belatedly. They glance Deacon down and up. "Can you hunt and fight?"

ooc ✧ 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦

•  
• 
  
  [ art by antiigone ]
• RUMBLERAIN ✧ they/them, leader of duskclan
  
  
  — "a lanky, scruffy seal and white point with blue eyes."
  — single ; mentoring berrypaw
  — speech is in #858AC0
  — tags | penned by mercibun, contact on discord for plots.
  
  
  
  

​

 

[PRIVETFROST]

Glowering gaze peered from the darkness of the scrublands, as though Privetfrost were crafted of the obscurity of nighttime itself, with the olivine jewels in his sockets penetrating the sable of his gaunt face. This strange cat smelled of asphalt and smoke, of Twoleg nests bellowing out onyx-colored mist for the whole sky to behold. Privetfrost did not trust easily, especially to those that knew nothing of clan life nor the story that unwound to get them here in the first place. "This place is not for loners to play pretend. With the harsh season approaching, we do not need dead weight to hold us down." The young man said as he approached the stranger, though an angled outline made it clear that the palls of hunger draped heavily over the tom, and marked him with its indentation of starvation. Although Rumblerain stated that Deacon's previous name was but a mere coat to shed, Privet could not help but disagree. That name was likely the closest thing that a cat like you has gotten to true honor. Slightest hint of curiosity flitted through Privet's countenance at Deacon's mention of his former (brief) life in the clan, though the mud and mire of a solitary life had covered that up by the time he had rolled into Duskclan's territory. He knew naught of the other clans and their quarries, for the world only consists of him and Windclan, as if contained with a dip that encapsulated all that mattered to the snow-tipped tomcat.

𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 ⋆ ˖ ⁺ ‧ ₊ ☽ ◯ ☾ ₊ ‧ ⁺ ˖ ⋆ 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

• OOC: Retro to the Shadowclan patrol, ofc
• 
• 

  PRIVETFROST & HE/HIM & 11 MOONS
  —— Warrior of Duskclan / Formerly mentored by Rumblerain
  —— Wine-dark and white-tipped, almost like a magpie. He has black fur except for the tips of his ears, his muzzle and chin, a blaze on his chest, bottom portion of the legs, outer end of the tail, and along the upper ridges of eyes. He has ghost striping that can only be seen in certain sunlight. He has fern-green eyes.
  —— Cool, calculating, and much too mature for such a young age. Enamored with the life of a warrior and burdened by the expectations of his people. Hard to befriend and harder to maintain a steady friendship with.
  —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.

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