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.
DUSKPOOL
It was a nicer day, and just about as hot as he expected, but that ain't to say he enjoyed the warmer weather. It felt damn good on his achin' joints, but his fur was an entirely different issue he'd been tacklin' since birth. Sure. It kept him mostly dry durin' the rain, but it sure liked to trap heat and just about turn him into cooked meat on most days. The temptation to go bald was lookin' real nice, but he ain't sure if lookin' like a half-dead raccoon would be any better, not with the amount of scars hidden beneath his fur.
Molten ember flickered, catchin' sight of somethin' slitherin' in camp. The hell? Brows furrowed, pivotin' to catch a better look when it finally registered. Either the thing ain't aware of where it slithered itself into, or what, but Duskpool ought to believe it was harmless enough unless it decided to bite. Then, well, it won't be such a walk in the park now, will it?
His war-torn frame pushed forward to drag its scaly body from camp when Chestnutpaw drew near, not payin' attention. Stars. His paw lashed forward before anyone could blink, Duskpool's claws dug into the scruff and yankin' back before the kid could step on it. "Get yer ass back here–" Not with his heart damn bear in his throat at the danger it posed, but just how unaware had she been not to see it? "Ya really got to pay attention, ya hear? Give me a damn heart attack, the lot of ya." He breathed harshly, withdrawin' to place a paw in front of the snake, wooly plumage swishin' the ground almost lazily.
"It ain't nothin' but a harmless snake, but gettin' bit will sure hurt like hell." He grumbled lowly, twistin' to scoop the garter snake, gaze lingerin' on its scaly frame with a hum, clearly unfazed. "And just who thought it was a good idea to come slitherin' in here, eh? Ain't got much brains now, do ya?" He muttered to the snake, expression deadpan, intendin' to put it someplace far from camp.
Molten ember flickered, catchin' sight of somethin' slitherin' in camp. The hell? Brows furrowed, pivotin' to catch a better look when it finally registered. Either the thing ain't aware of where it slithered itself into, or what, but Duskpool ought to believe it was harmless enough unless it decided to bite. Then, well, it won't be such a walk in the park now, will it?
His war-torn frame pushed forward to drag its scaly body from camp when Chestnutpaw drew near, not payin' attention. Stars. His paw lashed forward before anyone could blink, Duskpool's claws dug into the scruff and yankin' back before the kid could step on it. "Get yer ass back here–" Not with his heart damn bear in his throat at the danger it posed, but just how unaware had she been not to see it? "Ya really got to pay attention, ya hear? Give me a damn heart attack, the lot of ya." He breathed harshly, withdrawin' to place a paw in front of the snake, wooly plumage swishin' the ground almost lazily.
we're only haunted by the things we refuse to accept
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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 scars—old 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, thunderous—war-born, death-burdened, and unflinchingly alive.
ᯓ★ senior warrior of skyclan (sun guard during coffeestar's reign)
ᯓ★ brother to outlawbite & thistlestrike, half-brother to flowercloud
ᯓ★ eighty-three moons; ages on the 1st of every month
ᯓ★ speech thought action
ᯓ★ peaceful/healing powerplay permitted -
