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.
your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me
Perched haphazardly on the shabby wooden fence that enclosed his backyard, Sailor stared down the fence line that separated his perfect home from the mangy wild cats that he could smell from a mile away. He shifted on his paws, barely disguising the way his ears swivelled and flicked at the slightest rustle. He's never actually seen a clan cat, but the grapevine eventually dipped into his yard, and the pictures his mind conjured up felt much more accurate than a description could be.
Movement shook a bush and he twitched, weight tipping and sending him to the dusty dirt on the other side of his fence. Wet from the morning dew, the dirt stuck to his fur, causing Sailor to let out a loud whine. Dirt! In his fur! This would take hours to clean, and would be so gross on his tongue.
Ducking his head from embarrassment at the uncoordinated fall, Sailor's narrow eyes darted back and forth, hoping with every fibre of his heart that no one saw that.
Unfortunately for Sailor, the act was witnessed though not by a clan cat. Those cats rarely ventured too far out of the woods. Whereas she ventured out everywhere, the world was her oyster. "Gyeh heh heh, nice nose dive, pretty kitty. Didn't mean to scare ya." From the shrubbery twin acid green eyes peered outward, narrowed in mirth, pupils slit before dilating into black pools of interest. The lanky black cat slid forward from under the bush, legs too long and head craned in a tilt to the side at an angle that looked painful as she smiled - the flash of white sharp teeth against coarse black fur jarring to say the least. She didn't have a forest scent to her, quite the opposite with a rustic tinge and the every present soil smell of a cat who often wallowed on the dirt but without the rich pine of the forest; a loner. She ambled forward, legs spindly and gait awkward but her movements surprisingly fluid like a snake that had suddenly grown limbs and was just learning to use them, her back arched as she turned to face the tabby and not once did it seem as though she blinked. "Whatcha looking at? Them woods? Heard tell they got some cats forming groups out there, nasty lot who chew bones and drink blood. Thinking about joining'em?"
The dark pelted stranger chuffed, fur bristling along her spine in jagged rows like dragon spines as she blew a puff of cold air upward, a moon ago the plume her breath made was thick and billowing but it was now a mere shred of fog - an indication of the warming weather and soon to be greenery sprouting underpaw.
— Loose Cannon of the Riffraff — He/They/She (Will be written predominantly with she/her, but answers to all.) "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK — Long & wiry solid black cat with acid green eyes. #A1E447
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