First impression [P] [Drought]

[Twisted]

Twisted found herself wandering into the marshy swamps. She hadn't fully known the explanation for this, but she was sure she could trust her own paws. She felt the mud gather in between her toes, and turn the fur around her paws damp and uncomfortable. She brushed her banner across the wet soil, but it was still hovering enough to not get completely covered in mud. She had just hunt for herself, and was now carrying a small mouse which was clamped in her tight grip.

She kept her pace in the mud and mush, trying to avoid absolute captivation in the dark colored muck. She sighed, her sanity was failing her again - what was the point of being here? She wondered to herself. Answers most likely wouldn't be given. She shrugged it away and continued on  wandering aimlessly through the sticky marsh.

Paw steps distracted her, drawing in her dark blue gaze toward them. She tilted her head ever so and watched as what she believed the leader of her own clan appeared to be doing. She turned, all the way and dipped her head. She lifted her gaze so it would gently meet the large tom's and waited, first impressions where important.

@drought

[Deleted]

| Having a bit of trouble reading that font color... dark against dark and all. |


Drought had taken to dwelling in the swampland as of late. It was usually quiet out here, if nothing else. Feeling a bit hungry that day, he'd tracked the scent of mouse all the way back to the small creature's nest and was currently digging at the soft ground with claws extended.

He eventually felt warm fur, and ducked down to sink his teeth into the mouse. It squealed before dying when he snapped its spine. Knowing that this was the only inhabitant of the nest and he wouldn't be getting anything else from that area, the tom straightened up with his catch. He promptly noticed a splotched youngling staring at him.

"What, am I hunting for your entertainment?" the leader meowed at her in a somewhat muffled voice. He leaped up onto a nearby rotting log, set the mouse down, and glanced back at Twisted. "If you've got business with me, spit it out already. I'm hungry."

[Twisted]

[Sorry, here this color better? I didn't notice how dark and hard it was at first.]

Twisted hesitated at first, she was somewhat nervous to finally meet the feared group's leader. She shook her head, she didn't dare to open her mouth and let out a snappy comment. Drought was powerful, and she wouldn't want to know what would happen if she got on his bad side.

"Sorry for staring." She meowed, her eyes gleaming. It was strange, she felt like a clan cat - looking up to her leader. But she thought of Drought as powerful, not like the clanners did. She glanced around for a moment, it was silent. She shuddered, "No," She started, "I just find it nice to actually speak to my leader." She meowed, still gazing up at him. She felt awkward saying it, but it was true and hopefully it would lead to conversation. She then flicked her tail in the silence, still extremely and most likely too hopeful she would someday be granted the role as a 'royal'.

She paced back a step, her dark blue pools where wide open, in hope for response.

[Deleted]

| Yep, thanks, that's good. |


"So you came out here, of all places, just to talk to me? Interesting..." Drought cast a glance around at the murky swamp surrounding them. He sighed and set to work skinning the delicate mouse body; might as well give his paws something to do while this cat talked to him.

Judging by the way Twisted was acting, she already knew who he was. The black-and-white feline couldn't say the same. He lopped off the rodent's tail with a flick of his claw and watched as it rolled off the log, then sank into the mud below.

"Come on over and have a seat. May as well dry your paws." He indicated several large and flat rocks that were jutting out of the damp ground. "You got a name, tidbit?" Drought was fully prepared to keep inventing names for the peasant if she didn't feel like giving out this information.

[Twisted]

[Ok, good]

She watched the leader with steady eyes as he called her over. She trudged through the thick mud to make herself to the rocks protruding from the marsh. She nodded, "Twisted," She replied. Her facial betrayed nothing, however her gleaming dark pools show honor. She dropped her prey, it was pathetic. Small and skinny. She still eat it, quickly though - she lifted her gaze to the leader. "Is it difficult?" She asked, "With the group, we are growing very popular to what I have seen around the dens." Her voice was smooth and soft, she couldn't show any insanity - it was always hidden. She was a new comer, still very unsure about Deathclan but determine to fit in. She wouldn't leave this pack - unless something terrible was to happen. But even then, she had made a swear to stay put for once.

She pushed aside the white bones, tinted scarlet from her prey and watched as the bones hit the sharp edges of rock on their way down. She sighed yet again, but excitement burned inside her. Why was she so eager to speak to the leader, some may ask? Because she had a shot to be a favorite, a friend, a 'royal'. Others would have difficulty arguing with her in that case, but if she was to make a bad impression she could end up an enemy. Then she would most likely be driven from Deathclan, or suffer the humiliation. But she was still set on being a 'royal' at one point, but dreams could wait she was still young.

Her eyes where still sifting through the muck, unable to speak words or come up with a conversation. She just hoped that Drought would somehow start the conversations, she was terrible with words.

[Deleted]

He raised a catlike eyebrow at the youngling's name. "Twisted... I wonder what that's referring to? A paw injury, perhaps? Or maybe your past." The tom gave a dry laugh. Twisted paws were of no concern to him; if a cat couldn't live with its injury out here, it would die. Similarly, he could care less about where this she-cat came from. There were too many DeathClanners with tragic pasts who would try to get sympathy from others. As long as each new youngling was loyal to him alone, there would be no problems... and no reason to talk about what had happened before.

Still skinning the mouse absently, he spoke again. "Ah, but it doesn't matter. I'm Drought, if you didn't know that for some reason." His roleplayer got distracted and completely lost their train of thought tail twitched as he gave up on waiting and took a bite of the mouse. It was still a bit muddy, but didn't taste awful. The leader knew that leaf-fall was quickly approaching; he wasn't looking forward to guiding his group through the cold seasons. Tempers tended to run high whenever prey was scarce and sickness was spreading.

"Aside from that unfortunate incident several moons ago with the traitor, no. DeathClan mostly takes care of itself. It's only difficult during disasters, or when cats challenge me for leadership - which, mind you, doesn't happen very often." Drought grinned and gave his claws a good flex; he was notorious for his ability in combat.

[Twisted]

Gazing up at the fine leader, she nodded along to his words. "Yes, it was a twisted paw - but it was a simple birth defect. Nothing much," She meowed, "I don't like it when others give me sympathy for it - I can still use it, really." She added. She was never proud of her birth defect, but she wasn't miserable about it either. Days fly by and she never even notices it - she used it like that her whole life, how could it change her?  "It's also a trade mark." She decided to say, "But that's another story."

She glanced around again, controlling her own sanity. Why in the world was it so difficult? She wondered. She glanced back at the leader, nodding still. "What did you do with the traitor?" She asked, hoping the traitor would have died in the most gruesome way, shape or form. She let a grim smile creep up her face, making her dark eyes cold and misty. Insanity was lingering near by, she had a soft spot for blood. "I am betting that you left your mark," She added, her loyalty to this leader was strong as ever, that was for sure. She almost praised him. She grinned again.

She then stared at her paws. "I doubt anyone would dare challenge you, I have been told you are one of the most powerful cats in our history. I mean it would just be ignorant to challenge you, you have killed dozens." She meowed. Compliments where flooding her, she just praised her leader - still hoping to get onto his good side and become a somewhat ally. "I wouldn't battle you, at least." She meowed. "It would be foolish."

She brushed a gentle gaze across the marsh, her paws where half dry. She took a lap at one and twisted up her face. She set her paw down in disgust and waited for some type of reply.

[Deleted]

Drought laughed lightly. "A trademark, huh? Well, your sadistic killing techniques are your own business. I, personally, prefer to keep it quick and clean - unless the situation calls for a particularly messy murder. But then again, I don't tend to kill unless the target is worth it." He still remembered ripping away Cloverstar's first life. If only it was that simple to kill a Clan leader for good.

His expression darkened slightly when Twisted asked for details on Lyric. He didn't like thinking about the cat who had caused him to lose control of the four CloudClan-worshipping groups. Everything had gone according to his plans, the Clans had been flattened into submission to him... and then, in the blink of an eye, all of his hard work had fallen to pieces.

"She now has many scars, which I doubt will fade soon. Not to mention the fact that her tail is but a stump at this point." One of his torn ears twitched slightly. Lyric did deserve to die for what she had done, and she would - the next time she entered his sight.

"Pah, I don't make a habit of killing often. If I ended the life of every cat who annoyed me slightly... well, nearly every Clan cat would be dead, along with half of my own group. Death is reserved for those who have well and truly earned it. But of course you wouldn't fight me; you're a youngling. That would practically be suicide," meowed the leader dismissively. The idea of any youngling posing a threat to him was quite laughable. Such a battle could easily be ended by him simply sitting on his opponent.

[Twisted]

She nodded. She relized that crave for blood wasnt fully needed. She shrugged, personality was her's. She lifted her gaze again to the similar patterned tom and followed along to his words. "Thats good," She started. "Traitors dont deserve to leave without scars or death." She said dryly. Her tail curled itself around her mud dried paws as she yawned. Her talon like claws flexed a bit and then she turned her gaze to the marsh again, unable to focus on looking - but more of hearing.

"Of course," She meowed. "I couldnt beat you in any battle as an adult, let alone now!" She said - comparing her scrawny size to the large male. "It would be a quick fight."  Her ear twitched, she enjoyed finaly socializing with the leader she praised. She let herself grin, it was kind of funny to say it out loud but he would snap her like a twig.

She licked her muddy paw again, she grinted at the taste - horrible. She dropped her paw, she would wash it later by the river when she left today. She glanced at her mud caked paws and meowed, "I must just clarify that I am loyal to this group." Her tone was slightly shakey, it was a strange thing to bring up - but she wanted him to know. He was leader after all. "I wont be leaving, not like the clans." Her voice ended in hatred. Clanners where the enemies.

[Sorry for the short post, I got distracted and lost thought.]

[Deleted]

"Perhaps not. Although a fight with another adult is always more of a tricky affair. Who knows - by the time you're old enough to have some skill in combat, you may even give me a challenge." He twitched his whiskers in mild amusement. It had been too long since a brawl with a fellow DeathClanner had proven truly challenging. That vaguely worried Drought - his cats needed to be quick and skillful with their claws and teeth.

Of course, size always came into play during any battle. A larger cat would have a severe advantage against a smaller one unless the larger one was either stupid or slow. There were a multitude of other factors that could take effect as well. The leader enjoyed mulling over hypothetical combat situations in his mind; it kept him sharp.

His amber gaze, which had drifted slightly while he was lost in thought, returned to Twisted when she spoke again. "I should hope so," stated the American Shorthair plainly. "Those who don't wish to follow me would be foolish to stay... yet there are, somehow, many peasants who aren't exactly loyal. It's nonsensical."

[Twisted]

She nodded. Still following along and glancing at the leader from time to time. Her tail was twitching as she listened. "Maybe," She said blankly. "But most likely not, I am not willing to throw myself at death like that. Not until I completely loose my mind." She let out a small chuckle. She would loose her mind some point or another, but for now she was just a tiny bit crazy - it wasn't her fault though. She licked her chest fur and drew her gaze up again. "The ones who try to battle must feel miserable after failing, I would at least. Like, they would work themselves up about being leader of Deathclan then end in absolute shame, loose trust, and most likely be thrown out of the group." She murmured, mostly to herself just so she never gets ignorant ideas. She wouldn't ever challenge him though, she was much too small and her birth defect was terrible at times like that. A little 'street fighting' is ok at some times but going around and challenging a very powerful leader would be mental! Her clock works kept turning and she finally burst through the faze, snapping back to reality instead of her own mind.

Then it occurred to her, what if she sometime did leave Deathclan...? It would bevery unlikely but if she wasn't in her right mind. It would be living horror! She wouldn't stand a chance with the Deathclanners at her tail - she would be murdered in cold blood, chances are.  She glanced at her paws again, still caked in dry mud. She wouldn't become a traitor, it would ruin her. She would die within days. She took note to never do this and continued on.

"Have anyone ever got away with leaving Deathclan? Or have you scarred them all?" She wondered out loud. She knew that he spoke of a traitor a while back in their conversation, but besides that. She shrugged and glanced back at the spotted tom. Her eye where gleaming with the need for knowledge. She was too erudite for a youngling, too obsessed with the world and how it worked. Being curious would kill her some day - she knew that for sure.

[Deleted]

Drought gave a small shrug. He really didn't care who would decide to fight him in the future; his skills were always sharp enough to allow him to rise to each challenge with ease. Therefore, the black-and-white cat wasn't going to waste his time worrying about it.

"Most of the cats who fight me usually don't do so with the intention of gaining leadership, you know. A lot of the time it's just out of spite." In fact, Drought couldn't remember a time when a cat he'd been clawing had wanted to replace him. Most of DeathClan seemed content to live under his rule, and those who weren't had the intelligence to keep quiet about it.

He finished eating his mouse, and absently flicked the remains off his log. With a stomach full of warm meat, he almost felt ready to head back to his den for a quick nap. But Twisted seemed eager to keep on talking for now, so he simply tucked his paws under himself and blinked down at her.

"Gotten away with it? No, those who don't wish to live under my rule are free to leave, provided they don't betray DeathClan as Lyric did. She was exiled. There is a difference." Not letting cats leave on their own accord would be foolish - and a surefire way to end up with a uprising or two.