Hello and welcome to Purrgatory! We are an 18+ Warrior Cat Roleplay set in an AU where the clans were unable to leave the forest territories and perished!
It has been 100 or more years since then, the clans of the forest are but distant memories to any cats still alive, stories passed down to kits of strangely named wild warriors and leaders with nine lives but the time of the clans is upon us once more and the stars shine yet again.
{$title} minor mentions of gore and death
DUSKPOOL
Sleepin' ain't ever been easy for the war-torn warrior. Can't really get sleep when yer starin' at the faces of the dead each night ya close yer eyes. It made him sigh somethin' weary. His chest risin' and fallin' in shuddered intervals, tucked within the hollowed part of a dyin' tree watchin' the shrouded sky. Reckon it's been a long time since I've done this, huh? He mused dryly. Can't say I've had much time. He smirked wearily, gaze driftin' to his paws sprawled before him within the makeshift nest he'd built.
He ain't too sure what he wanted to say. To whom? Would be more like it. Yukio. Shadowfire. Smokefang. Honeycombsplash. Jaggedstorm. Sakura. Havardur. His little girls. Those he'd inevitably killed. His rotten old man.
Gettin' too old for this. He chuffed sourly. He ain't too sure where to begin. The snap of a neck too delicate for this world. The boom of a huntin' rifle. The snap of a trap sinkin' into muscled flesh. The taste of family blood on his tongue. The slow dull of his mate's irises. The cries of families he'd broken. The scorn of angry irises burnin' his flank.
It made his skin crawl in agony. Just how much of a sinner was he willin' to become? Just how far was Starclan willin' to go? To the ends of time, it seemed. He ain't nothin' more than a selfish bastard waitin' for damnation. His paws were too tainted by sins. Of death.
His lips curled sorrowfully, tuckin' his head against the rotten bark to watch the starlit sky in numbness. And before he realized, Duskpool fell into a fitful sleep.
And when his eyes opened, standin' before him was Ryuji. His brows furrowed, glancin' around at the odd scenery, wonderin' if he'd gone and died, but this wasn't where he thought he'd be. Reckon he should be on his merry way to hell. "What the hell are ya doin' here?" His timbre confused, but no less thunderous, as he stared at his littermate's tabby coat and familiar moss green irises.
"What? Surprised?" Ryuji grinned lazily. His lumberin' form slaunterin' toward the obsidian smoke. "Gonna have bugs crawlin' all over if ya don't shut yer mouth." The brown tabby hummed, teasin' the scarred male who scowled briefly, heads bumpin' in an affectionate tussle of limbs.
"My mouth ain't open." Duskpool's deadpan response came, body rollin' into familiar limbs as they collapsed onto the ground. His chest shuddered with Ryuji's weight landin' on top, but the war-torn warrior ain't minded so much. "Yer gonna tell me why the hell yer here?"
"What? This old place? Sparkly, ain't it? Could run for days and not grow tired. Weird, I'll tell ya, kid." Ryuji hummed, raisin' his head to peer at his littermate with lazy irises.
An old, familiar nickname. Duskpool snorted, lips curled into a subtle frown. "Yer dead, aren't ya?" Came the obsidian male's deadpan response.
Ryji smiled turned weary, lazy irises growin' duller in response, shruggin' broad shoulders. "Seems I am. Been for a while, I think." The brown tabby mused tiredly, shiftin' his frame to curl against Duskpool's scarred frame, takin' note of each scar adorin' his brother's fur with a noticeable frown. "Life's hard, huh?"
Duskpool snorted. "Can't say it's been easier for anyone else." He mused dryly, watchin' his brother with a heavy molten iris. He can't find it within himself to feel grief. He already lost two brothers. What was one more? He bit back a hollow laugh, mangled ears swivelin' flat against his scarred helm. "How?" He uttered lowly.
The moss-colored male paused, head cocked, mullin' over his answer, tongue rollin' around a piece of wheat he found. "Now, if I go tellin' ya that I'm sure I'll be seein' ya sooner, kid." He chuffed. Can't go tellin' his brother he'd been murdered by some ThunderClanner, now, can he?
Obsidian wool rippled, unable to refute the statement except to bump his head against the other's cheek in muted annoyance. "Always been an observant fucker, ain't ya?" Ryuji grinned cheekily around the strand of wheat, tail whippin' to slap Duskpool upside the head in a knock it off gesture. Even though Ryuji was the eldest between Duskpool and Outlawbite, the man never really felt like leadin' but merely a lazy bodyguard with the sworn words of no dyin' when I'm around, ya hear me, kiddo? Somethin' Duskpool picked up on durin' their younger moons, and it naturally suck, causin' the old man to call most folk kid or kiddo.
His brother was dead. Just like everythin' else in this starforsaken world. His chest heaved a tired breath, restin' the entirety of his weight into Ryuji, who kept quiet, grinnin' wearily. "C'mon. Let's have some fun like the good ol' days."
Wakin' up left him more tired than ever. His limbs numb from the chase. His molten iris tired with nothin' but a few stray tears dottin' his waterline. Head tiltin' to stare at the ceilin', Duskpool barked out a deep, horrowin' laugh filled with pain and grief. "Foxhearted fool." The old warrior rasped affectionately, mufflin' the need to cry with a paw to his achin' iris, quellin' the turbulent emotions rattlin' inside his form.
He ain't too sure what he wanted to say. To whom? Would be more like it. Yukio. Shadowfire. Smokefang. Honeycombsplash. Jaggedstorm. Sakura. Havardur. His little girls. Those he'd inevitably killed. His rotten old man.
Gettin' too old for this. He chuffed sourly. He ain't too sure where to begin. The snap of a neck too delicate for this world. The boom of a huntin' rifle. The snap of a trap sinkin' into muscled flesh. The taste of family blood on his tongue. The slow dull of his mate's irises. The cries of families he'd broken. The scorn of angry irises burnin' his flank.
It made his skin crawl in agony. Just how much of a sinner was he willin' to become? Just how far was Starclan willin' to go? To the ends of time, it seemed. He ain't nothin' more than a selfish bastard waitin' for damnation. His paws were too tainted by sins. Of death.
His lips curled sorrowfully, tuckin' his head against the rotten bark to watch the starlit sky in numbness. And before he realized, Duskpool fell into a fitful sleep.
And when his eyes opened, standin' before him was Ryuji. His brows furrowed, glancin' around at the odd scenery, wonderin' if he'd gone and died, but this wasn't where he thought he'd be. Reckon he should be on his merry way to hell. "What the hell are ya doin' here?" His timbre confused, but no less thunderous, as he stared at his littermate's tabby coat and familiar moss green irises.
"What? Surprised?" Ryuji grinned lazily. His lumberin' form slaunterin' toward the obsidian smoke. "Gonna have bugs crawlin' all over if ya don't shut yer mouth." The brown tabby hummed, teasin' the scarred male who scowled briefly, heads bumpin' in an affectionate tussle of limbs.
"My mouth ain't open." Duskpool's deadpan response came, body rollin' into familiar limbs as they collapsed onto the ground. His chest shuddered with Ryuji's weight landin' on top, but the war-torn warrior ain't minded so much. "Yer gonna tell me why the hell yer here?"
"What? This old place? Sparkly, ain't it? Could run for days and not grow tired. Weird, I'll tell ya, kid." Ryuji hummed, raisin' his head to peer at his littermate with lazy irises.
An old, familiar nickname. Duskpool snorted, lips curled into a subtle frown. "Yer dead, aren't ya?" Came the obsidian male's deadpan response.
Ryji smiled turned weary, lazy irises growin' duller in response, shruggin' broad shoulders. "Seems I am. Been for a while, I think." The brown tabby mused tiredly, shiftin' his frame to curl against Duskpool's scarred frame, takin' note of each scar adorin' his brother's fur with a noticeable frown. "Life's hard, huh?"
Duskpool snorted. "Can't say it's been easier for anyone else." He mused dryly, watchin' his brother with a heavy molten iris. He can't find it within himself to feel grief. He already lost two brothers. What was one more? He bit back a hollow laugh, mangled ears swivelin' flat against his scarred helm. "How?" He uttered lowly.
The moss-colored male paused, head cocked, mullin' over his answer, tongue rollin' around a piece of wheat he found. "Now, if I go tellin' ya that I'm sure I'll be seein' ya sooner, kid." He chuffed. Can't go tellin' his brother he'd been murdered by some ThunderClanner, now, can he?
Obsidian wool rippled, unable to refute the statement except to bump his head against the other's cheek in muted annoyance. "Always been an observant fucker, ain't ya?" Ryuji grinned cheekily around the strand of wheat, tail whippin' to slap Duskpool upside the head in a knock it off gesture. Even though Ryuji was the eldest between Duskpool and Outlawbite, the man never really felt like leadin' but merely a lazy bodyguard with the sworn words of no dyin' when I'm around, ya hear me, kiddo? Somethin' Duskpool picked up on durin' their younger moons, and it naturally suck, causin' the old man to call most folk kid or kiddo.
His brother was dead. Just like everythin' else in this starforsaken world. His chest heaved a tired breath, restin' the entirety of his weight into Ryuji, who kept quiet, grinnin' wearily. "C'mon. Let's have some fun like the good ol' days."
we're only haunted by the things we refuse to accept
-
DUSKPOOL he/him a storm carved in flesh and smoke, duskpool towers with the bulk of a maine coon and norwegin forest cat. his wooly black pelt bristles with ghost-stripes and scarsβold wounds etched like lightning through dusk. one copper eye burns like molten steel and the other a mangled ruin of war. every step is heavy, thunderousβwar-born, death-burdened, and unflinchingly alive.
α―β senior warrior of skyclan (sun guard during coffeestar's reign)
α―β brother to outlawbite & thistlestrike, half-brother to flowercloud
α―β eighty-two moons; ages on the 1st of every month
α―β speech thought action
α―β peaceful/healing powerplay permitted -
