slow mornings . intro / border patrol(?)

[VASS .]

It was a welcome, this ghost town, the creatures here far and few in-between. Dark, dangerous- abandoned. It was a paradise, a Kingdom of silence; beyond the creak and squeak of the rats that had plagued them. Vaas took to the place like a fish to water, it was no jungle; but the creatures here were leaderless, and demanded respect. Demanded blood, in a way very few could ever hope to satisfy. They wanted might, power, control: it wasn't luck that brought the once native to this shore; it was a purpose- he just didn't know it, until he found it, hidden under the rotten boards of his turf.

The night previous had ended in celebration  as were normal. They celebrated life in a way few others did, honored it with moments of remembering the dead. Remembering the blood, the vacancy that lingered between their ranks. Moments of morning were reserved for the hangovers, and in the sound of the constant sea that banked against them- the sound of movement- whispers in comparison to the r o a r ; the sound of the sea was always demanding, hungry for sacrifice - for the return of the boy-king.

It had been years, since anyone had looked upon the scarred tiger and thought him a boy. Hardened by two winters, broken by his third summer- Vaas was a creature of habit forced to make do within strange lands. He was not native here, and thus he made it home the only way he knew how.

He carved his spot within these strangers : a spot- directly at the top.

He filled the role with purpose, he took the reigns and in turn demanded respect of his fellow group. They were still in their infancy; young, strapping- and boisterous, celebrating life, mourning the lost. Rediscovering amidst the old, crumbling ruin. Some attempting to break free of the confines of the hangover, and the few that were wise enough not to fuck with vaas' own tainted brew- simply enjoyed the quiet that such a morning allowed. But it halted with a creek, with the skuttle of rat's paws.

The jungle was once his home; and he had abandoned it. It is… freeing, a sudden movement that had been moons ago now- Vaas knew this, yet when he looked out into the sea with the boardwalk of splintering wood- rotting wood under his claws; he can’t help but the deep trenches of sand. The sea-salt baked shore that permitted through the jungle like a poison. It was the scent he was raised on, fresh jungle and sea. He was born of the land, of the jungle; he was a native taking from his home- forced from it; self-imposed isolation.

He knew the land before he knew of the typhoon. Of course; one of their own had gone off to create the clan, had hopped maybe childishly, that his native roots and his own kin would join him; but all that he had now is a crumbling lineage and a broken throne. He proved to the natives the need to remain isolated, it was a kingdom that Vaas had grown into. It was one he wished to return to; a traitorous thought, but he missed the jungle; even the sea couldn’t shake that feeling.

It was a thrum against his skull, the calling for home; the forest that cut across the southern border didn’t do it for him; it itched it scratched and it begged for his attention. Vaas numbed it, he numbed it with drugs and booze and leading: it was a thrill, it felt in a inexplicable way- right. After his family groomed him for the second command role; he had found a spot with misfits, leading them.

Sometimes he will close his eyes and wish to blink them open to the sea of green. Blinking them opened only caused a slight wrinkle onto his brow; the sea-spray of a large wave crashing against the harbor getting him across the muzzle. He snorted, tail lashing out behind him cat-like, innocuous if not for his sheer size. He shook his head slightly, and beyond it a bitter smile graced his maw. Yellowed fangs set to a rictus fix along his maw.

For the moment; he had held a quiet morning, but it was part of his rounds to look towards the border of the hyperactive little anti-clan that shared their border. He had already set a pair of dogs towards the border, but that was the night before. It was time to go round the same motions, and in the mornings, while the rest of his clan were still probably recovering from the Boss’ own housed concoctions. There was left he, to watch the border.

Along the edge of the boardwalk, where sandy beaches lifted to acend the rotting- splitting wood, was a small perch. Vaas walked towards it, ignoring the itch, the yearning that the scent of the sea and the lack of the jungle- the wrongness of it. Instead he used it to heighten his own paranoi, green eyes slitted as he stopped short of the makeshift watch tower along the boardwalk. Eyeing the edges of the land and where the sea met.

God, he needed some sort of fucking blunt after this was through.

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"take me into your heart , accept me as your savior nail me to the fucking cross and let me be reborn" — an antagonist with a silver tongue , a pirate with nothing to loose and everything to gain .  vaas montenegro ; he who lives to fight demons should be weary he himself does not become one ." it's not like i am fucking crazy — "

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[RHINESTONE.]

LEADER ❝ RHINE ❞ PALMCLAN

Unknown. That was what the boardwalk had been, for nearly as long as Rhinestone had been alive for. He could recall being just a kit as he had watched warriors go off to patrol where the boardwalk met the sand, eager to see if there was anything they could sneak back to their clan. For the most part, Palmclan had made sure to keep their distance from those who lived atop the wooden structure, be they human or animal. Of course, unbeknownst to the clan as a whole, anyone living in the buildings that populated the massive wooden structure was far from human. Humans had been extinct on the island for a long time, perhaps for even longer than the group had ever been around, not that any of them would know that. As a result of that forbidden knowledge, Rhine had kept away from the boardwalk for the majority of his life, even when he had reached the rank of senior warrior. After all, there had been little reason to go to the boardwalk in the first place. There wasn't any prey that could only be found there, and it seemed as though there was only potential threats that could be found within the place. So, it had been deemed best just to keep away, and observe from afar.

Of course, that was the reality of things before the massive rat attack had struck their group. Thankfully, only the bare minimum of injuries had been received when all was said and done, but it was still worrying. The vermin that had lingered around their territory in the aftermath had been a nightmare, and Rhine had spent his nights awake, wondering if they might get hit once again by a surprise attack. It had been what had ultimately motivated him to round up around half of his group, leading them into the unknown in order to make sure that they would all be safe. It wasn't a glamorous task by any means, and it brought with it a great deal of risks. Those who had decided to go had taken up the task knowing those risks, and while none of them had faced serious harm yet, it had certainly caused a waver in everyone's spirit when part of the boardwalk had collapsed behind them. However, it wasn't as if they could just take it back. In fact, they had no way back, so their only option after that was to explore, and so, they had set off to do so.

The discovery that no humans to speak of lived on the boardwalk anymore was surprising enough. However, the discovery that there was an entire group living on the boardwalk, completely unknown to them? It was almost a slap to face, although one without any malice behind it. After all, despite encountering those from the boardwalk several times already – whether it be face to face or because they were watching from the shadows – none of their party had been injured by anyone from the boardwalk group. It seemed as though they weren't out for Palmclan blood – at least not yet – and for that, Rhine was grateful. He wouldn't have been able to take venturing out into a new land, only for them to be decimated by a new enemy that they never could've expected. Especially since it would've meant that they could never return home, and there was more than a little chance that this would all end in the rats coming down upon Palmclan's camp once again. Just the thought was enough to both terrify and motivate Rhinestonestar, making him move faster as he explored every nook and cranny of the wooden structure.

Really, Rhine should've figured that, eventually, he and several of the other clan members stranded on the boardwalk with him, would end up running into a boardwalk patrol. However, the tom still found himself caught off guard as he moved along the wooden planks, flanked by a few NPCs, only for Vass's scent to reach him. Pausing, the leader straightened himself out, standing up tall and taking a deep breath in preparation. He couldn't afford to look weak in front of the other, after all. Once he was sure that he was ready, he made his way over to the watchtower that lingered at the edge of the boardwalk, offering a bird's eye view of everything around it. Vass stood quietly at the bottom, and Rhinestone made his way over silently, clearing his throat to eventually alert the other to his presence. Once he was nearby, the leader allowed himself to sit, making sure he looked peaceful as he curled his tail over his paws, pale eyes looking upward, at the tower. He spoke softly, his tone vaguely questioning, "Hello... I'm sorry. I don't believe I've ended up catching your name in any of our exchanges yet..." He glanced out towards the shore briefly, wincing a little at the ache in his heart. He wanted so desperately to be able to go back home, but... not yet. Turning back to Vass, he let out a smooth hum, "Morning patrol...? I'm surprised by how similar your daily structure is to my group's own..." He supposed he shouldn't have been that surprised. After all, they were basically a clan all of their own, albeit smaller.

NEVER OPENED MYSELF THIS WAY
LIFE IS OURS, WE LIVE IT OUR WAY

— Reggan