Jeep Wrangler

Dulce et Decorum Est - A WWI Inspired Nation Roleplay (Mark II)

Though I might not have the time to (I will if I can get it) join the RP, I just wanna come spread my love at the Wilfred Owen poetry name that has me fanboying k thanks

Trial of Shadows | Warrior Cats

_{Interacting with: @skitts | @sassy1085}

---

It was a glorious day, at least. That was where the positives tended to end. Things along the borders were always quite iffy. Anything could happen. The next big war could be snowballed from a border incident, and most of them were. They were walls in which the clans were divided, entities of harsh justice that ensured there'd always be a contest to be had. Though, it wasn't an imperfect system. The clans could define their hunting grounds and could adapt to their own parts of the valley, differentiating them and creating an identity amongst the wild. A sense of order, contained in a small plot of land that rivalled the others. Those were the things to be glad of. Time and time again, Branchfall had wondered how life on the free market of preservation played out. Relying only on themselves was a hasty job, especially in the presence of four great clans and the dangers the valley had to offer. He pictured the rogues and the loners as being amongst the most headstrong and capable cats across the land, held back only by their stubbornness and lack of social wit.

The perspective of borders was all too different from a cat who'd been on two sides of it. He'd seen one world and transitioned to another. That was a jarring experience. Life was different. The food was different. And whilst they all shared a conglomerate of ideas, religious beliefs and the all-encompassing Warrior Code, they were divided by a cultural significance and the great divider: thought. Branchfall had his own ideals pressed together into an ugly mess. And patrols like theirs were only the sharp reminders of the messes that had been made. The manifestations of an old world compared to the new; life before and the death of an old family member. He just hoped to StarClan that he wouldn't run into the cats he knew best. Whether they were family or just old friends, it was the last thing he needed.

Because of this, Branch came across as rather hasty. He was at the front of the group, checking everything and sniffing around as if he were in a rush. At the least, he tried to be thorough but couldn't hold himself up to the standards of a careful and detailed patroller. The first fifty heartbeats seemed to go off quite nicely. There wasn't an issue nor anything more than the faint scents of old reports. The roughened familiarity of a wild creature that skirted their territory was barely noticeable anymore, and so Branch breathed easily knowing that it wasn't anything cumbersome. Eventually, he grew tired of the silence between the three. It was deafening, getting in the way of his anxiety. The last thing he wanted was to silently stumble into a BirchClan patrol in the dead of morn.

"Hey, Flamepelt," he began in a mumble, "can you just start talking about something? Anything at all? New rumours, news or things of interest? I'd really appreciate it."

Persona ~ The Beholder

---

_{Interacting with: @Hero}

---

On their voyage through the thick mist, Laurence stuck close by Cara. He tried not to latch on to her out of courtesy but the unfamiliar surroundings definitely tarnished his confidence. Why did he feel so scared? There was a presence around him that felt familiar in all of the alien architecture around him. A gut feeling, almost, or that presence of someone you know watching you. He felt like there were eyes he hadn't seen in a long time watching him, mimicking his own gaze and sharpening its teeth with a diamond whetstone. That anxiety drew him toward the only body he knew that was human - Cara wandered in her readied stance and seemed keen to keep her promise of protection. He'd have been lying if he said he wasn't both jealous and grateful for her presence. She carried herself with such diligence, even for a university student, and persisted with her stronger aura. It was a sight worth seeing a million times. And, god, Laurence felt embarrassed to even look at himself. Wandering around in a street of nowhere, scared out of his mind and close to paralysis and yet he flaunted over her mettle in his mind. He hated knowing that he was even in such a position, let alone mixing his mind with both the troubles of the situation and the fascination in the new ally he'd made.

With their eyes searching every place, he felt his chest pump with anxiety. Fuck. He hated being there. It was so horrific. No building looked real or hospitable, and yet the sounds of scurrying from inside indicated that something was around them, lurking with a devilish stalk about it.

"Hey...uhh...thanks-" Oh fuck, why did he start talking again? Was it because he hated the deafening silence that encompassed the pair or was it that today had shown him how much he truly loved one-to-one conversation? "I mean like...you didn't have much of a choice but...and we're just in this shitty place but...I mean, thanks. I don't think I would've moved from where you found me."

Cara stopped staring ahead to lpok back at Laurence, shaking her head. "Don't worry about it, I'm happy to help," She replied. After a short pause, she did laugh to herself. "It's a weird situation, I'm not really sure if we're doing the right thing, but...strength in numbers is better. I think."

"We're barely a pair," Somehow, through the blistering terror, he found his lips curling into a smile, "I mean, well...I get you."

His eyes began to scan their surroundings once more. Over on the horizon, he noticed a glimmer of golden sunlight break through the mist - only slightly, however. Squinting, he tried to gaze through the obstruction to see what had suddenly blossomed in the far reaches of their murky underworld. He couldn't see a damn thing, fortunately, but instead heard the roar of its upcoming barbarism. Feeling a sinking anchor strap itself to his gut, he knew that whatever was out there was anything but good. The grand scale explosions of violence erupted. The horizon sounded just like a dimmed warzone. He could no longer hear the sound that Cara wanted to investigate. And with the golden horizon blessing them with cursed implications, he reached out for her wrist, mostly grabbing half of her hand.

"We definitely shouldn't go this way." He suddenly spoke with strange conviction, a defiance to continue with their intrigue. "S-sorry...but, it's not...do you not hear that?"

Cara squinted as she tried to see through the fog, shaking her head in disappointment when she couldn't make out anything. As she moved forward, his hand held her back, and she looked back at him, surprised. "Hey now, we're fine," She told him. "It sounds far away enough, but if other people need help, we should investigate, no?"

"Cara, that sounds like gunfire or something..." Even though his fear was most definitely showing, he tried his best to keep a smile going as he met her surprised look. He took a quiet breath, before letting a meagre chuckle. "You look like...incredibly willing to kick someone's arse but I don't think it'll be much against...whatever's going on there. We can't do much realistically, not until we get home and figure out what this place is."

Cara had to stoo herself from laughing at Laurence's comment, although she gathered her composure as she frowned to herself. "You're right, but it isn't like anything else is really jumping out at us, is it?" She asked him. "We could investigate to see what's going on or take our chances into whatever else is in the fog."

If she weren't as calm and cool-headed as she was, he'd have declined the offer straight away. It was her influence, honestly. A blend of confidence, politeness, beauty and explorative behaviour creating the perfect leader. He felt rather outmatched, and arguing against her would've hindered his place and left him alone. It wasn't wise. He barely noticed himself holding onto her hand for support. Feeling like such a child, he cursed himself beneath his breath and held onto his temple with a free hand. Then, he nodded, and she began to lead the way.

The two trekked through a vast open plain. The sounds of the golden street off in the distance began to resonate throughout the tempered landscape. A rough of bombastic explosions rattled the glassless windows and the rubble that lay at their sills. He breathed calmly. There was no orchestral ambience, just the winds of emptiness surrounding them. As a filmmaker, he knew how effective at the endless sea of silence was in terrifying a man. It cursed him to know that this was reality and not some fictional cinematic piece he'd conjured in the back of his mind. There was no real escape, only the desperate shadows of some misfortunate twisted fantasy he now inhabited. God only knew what little he'd have likely done if Cara hadn't been coincidentally in the same place at the same time. The hallucinogenic fever dream had taken him to the highest plains of distress and all the way down to the lowlands of despair. How fucked had they truly been, and how lucky were they that they were yet to be slaughtered in the maze they were so ignorantly unaware of.

Suddenly, a translucent warp began to encompass them. It was much alike the effect that had taken them to the very same world. A sickness came in Laurence's stomach again. But as he stumbled around, keeping himself afloat by the clench of the hand, he noticed a figure off to the side, watching them. It didn't seem to be looking at him, however, but rather Cara.

Trial of Shadows | Warrior Cats

@LetMeDoStuff can u help me? lol

@gummiecandies

Would have to be more specific on that one, but Ambra already said there's just one thing that needs changing. I'd have a look at that and see how you feel. If you aren't sure just tell me what you're not specifically sure on. I'll try not to rewrite the character as it is yours but we'll have to make concessions on it to let them fit into the lore

Trial of Shadows | Warrior Cats

okay
i think i fixed it
Name:
Mistrunner

Age:
26 moons

Gender:
Female

Clan:
Mistclan

Rank:
Warrior

Appearance:
A Siberian cat with a glossy, white-as-snow coat. Her coat has a small patch of peach and grey on her face. Her ears are the same, her tail fading to a dark gray.

Personality:
A very elegant and sleek cat, Mistrunner has a sort of debonair edge to her. She's always surprising her comrades - and her prey - that gives her a reputation as a 'cat burglar' . If she wanted to, she could sit still for hours and watch and keep track of prey.
Biography:
Mistrunner was born with 2 other brothers. Mistrunner, as a kit, was very jumpy and got startled at even the slightest rustle of a leaf. Even more, she ignored almost every sign that enemies were near. Mistrunner became more crafty and shrewd as she aged up. Some would say that Mistrunner's apprenticeship was very doubted. Many more even thought she wouldn't survive to even see 17 moons. Mistrunner became more crafty and shrewd as she aged up. She has grown to have a understanding of the macrocosm (as far as cats can learn), and while very knowledgeable, she has very foolish lies that even the most slow-witted could guess.
Apprentice?: None.

Mate?:None.

Kits?:None.

@gummiecandies

Eyy that looks much better, though the Macrocosm bit is still probably going to be debatable, but I'd leave that to the GM to decide

Trial of Shadows | Warrior Cats

okay, i changed it a bit
Appearance: A Siberian cat with a glossy, white-as-snow coat. Her coat has a small patch of peach and grey on her face. Her ears are the same, her tail fading to a dark gray.
A very elegant and sleek cat, Mistrunner has a sort of debonair edge to her. She's always surprising her comrades - and her prey - that gives her a reputation as a 'cat burglar' . If she wanted to, she could sit still for hours and watch and keep track of prey. Mistrunner, as a kit, was very jumpy and got startled at even the slightest rustle of a leaf. Mistrunner became more crafty and shrewd as she aged up. She has grown to have a understanding of the macrocosm (as far as cats can learn), and while very knowledgeable, she has very foolish lies that even the most slow-witted could guess. Biography: ?? Apprentice: None Mate?: None. Kits?: None.

@gummiecandies

Would need quite a lot of work. There are somethings I noticed that seem to conflict with the Warriors thing, such as an understanding of the macrocosm which seems a tad excessive, however I'm willing to sit down and help you out if you want a good bit of help. I will suggest that if you find yourself struggling a tad with Casual RP to start out on Free Roleplay forums as they are a lot more new user friendly too. Just tag me or message me if you would like some help on stuff! I'm all for helping new people

hello there

welcome to the guild, @gummiecandies. i know there's a warriors rp out there that @letmedostuff is in, but i don't know if they're currently accepting any more players

@Kuro

Why you gotta call me out like that, fam

Trial of Shadows | Warrior Cats

_{Interacting with: @skitts | @sassy1085}

---

Things happened. The meeting went by and someone got to mentor the new Skykit. The more he thought about it, the more he deemed the entire aura of the camp to be rather unnerving. There was a threat that most of the cats seemed to know of. Deaths. Quite a few. More than the usual brutal life of a clancat, at least. And despite this, things went by as they had done before. Meetings about cats coming of the right age, announcements of duties and the ever-passing days of silence in the glazed hopeless plains of the valley. It nerved him knowing that such little was being said. To him, issues left unchecked stirred the pot for great misconduct. He also understood the sentiment of ensuring there was no panic, but what calmness could there be without reassurance? Branchfall had so much to ask about it, but no one to really say it to. It wasn't his concern to most of them. A dead sister in the wake of it all, but why would they care if he'd not seen or been loved by her in moons?

Everything was a mess. He knew it from his now uncontained box of the clan. Seeing other sides made him worry greatly. And when Silverflight, StarClan bless her, gave out the duties for the day, he felt himself swept away with minor worry. BirchClan. Of course. It wasn't a vendetta or anything, he hoped. At least, it would've been awful for someone like Silverflight to have any sort of grudge against him. They hadn't spoken too much, even though he hoped to do so, and so he barely had an understanding on how she perceived him. Was he that traitor and easily manipulated tom the others saw or was he an integrated fragment of the greater clan.

"Come on then, he nudged Flamepelt lightly; his eyes suddenly caught and trailed behind Rainstripe's silent beckoning, "We should get going. And here I was hoping for a day of hunting..." As he prepared to walk, he stretched himself across the clearing and let out a little yawn, drying his temper to something more professional. He nodded kindly to Dawnstep in the hopes of a positive response and left to trail closely behind Rainstripe.

At first, he didn't really pay much attention to the third member of the party. Rainstripe was something special, though. A cat without the ability to hear. Must've been torture, he would think, but she seemed to cope in her own little ways. Reading mouths and thoughts gave her this little interpretation of life that he would never quite understand. It wasn't that she could articulate it by words anyway. But their time together as training apprentices at least got him more used to it all. Dwelling upon those days gave him a slight rush of melancholy, bleeding his focus into harsh realities. Had he been happy during those days? Maybe not. Maybe so. He couldn't quite read his own emotions as well as he used to. That clarity of right and wrong had faded whilst the opaque nature of his mind never demisted itself.

Rainstripe, huh? As Branchfall usually did, he began speaking to himself in his muse. She was quite difficult to read at times. Some of the others seemed more fluent in her way of communication but Branch had never quite mastered it himself. She was a soft, crystal white snowcat with the fur of a leaf-bare survivor. Quite pretty too, but then again which she cat wasn't at that point. Branch didn't fixate too much on anything other than getting the job done, which he then began to talk to himself about. Birchclan. Home. It wasn't less than a stroke of irritancy. The closer he was to those he loved the more it hurt to see them pass, and if they'd recognise him. He hated that last part. It should be something invigorating, a sense of pride of escaping what he thought was the corrupt lands of the valley, but instead he felt that shame, much alike a low hanging fruit. Sighing, he moved on. Sticking close to Rainstripe, at least he thought he wasn't too close, he circled around to her front. He presumed she couldn't read his mouth if he was out of her view staring at her.

"Nice to see you again, Rainstripe." If she could hear his tone, she'd have likely seen his discomfort or discouragement in the day's events. Well, perhaps his emotions would've shown it enough, but he still tried to gather himself to be kind to her. "Glad you get to work with me - and Flamestripe too...yeah."

Persona ~ The Beholder

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<sub>Direct Interaction - @Lugubrious - @CriticalHit

Also shoots a bit at - @BCtheEntity</sub>

---

She watched cautiously, with all of the discipline as an automated sentry gun, and snapped her sights two and from. The situation was too recognisable. Yet the years of her memory fizzling to vapour had left her confused. One of them was one of them, yet it was hard to pick up on which one. Others turned up to the scene, with their noses far up the situation's arsecrack. Whipping her gaze to the first one who talked back, she eyed them. A guy - oh she hadn't seen one of those in a long while - with golden blonde hair. It was too bright. She didn't like it. It wasn't necessarily bad but-

No, she had to focus. Her hunger deprived her of that initiative. The eyes laid on her, and she trailed the barrel of her pistol on their bodies. Some looked shocked, others rather fearful or just surprised. Her entrance was something of a nonchalant gatecrash, jumping in with excessive instability to someone else's journey. Their visit had thrown a spanner in the works, changing the norm of what the world was used to. It could persist. She wouldn't let it. Instead, she riled herself to the man shouting at her. He didn't seem to know anything. Useless, of course. How could he? But why wouldn't he? He was here, wasn't he? All those questions left unanswered. Hounds, shadows more likely. The ones that prowl the streets and hunt down in vicious pairs or packs. They were some of the worst shadows she knew of, at least in terms of their widespread population. Then the guy demanded that she told them stuff. At first, she considered it, but the tension of the situation left her unable to. She needed to maintain the power over the group. One of them was a shadow. She could sense it. But her scrambled thoughts and starving inside had left her judgement inaccurate. If she were to so slip up poorly, then she'd be one less potential ally down and with a lurking predator still amongst them. None of that could happen. For once, she had to maintain control, just to show HIM that she was capable of doing it. Never again would she face that doubt.

"N-no. No, no no no no. You listen. Stop fidgeting and keep still. I need...I need to figure this out. One of them. It's you. Or you." She flicked her sights between the two white-haired girls. Instincts began to clear themselves up, removing the opaque veil obstructing her judgement. One of them. Without knowing the original, she could not discern them from one another. Something so vile and vapid about their aura would've given it away, but the eccentric behaviour of one could've been as true to her heart as the other. These were...purposes. Oh yes. A lack of purpose. One had it and one hid it. That was it. Her mind raced around in circles, trying to piece together the mystery that lay before her in a diamond crust. "Now...b-both of you. Sidestep away."

The dressed one insulted her, nicknaming her the vile creature, and flared her with a terrible reputation. For once, she felt obliged to speak back, directing her gun towards the creature. They conversed more, the twins, and talked only of their control, their help for one another. One had the other by a leash. It was gut-wrenching to witness such a loss of control. The memories and the melancholy, all of it was a hideous recount of what had once torn her own life apart. A catalyst for the end days and the removal of freedoms as the world knew it.

"Call me that again, whore, and I'll-

"Behold our supremacy. Peons; take her!" Tunnel-visioned by her own fixation on control, she barely noticed the eleven figures move into the picture, striding towards her with vicious intent. Tridents fixated their points towards her. The black ones were the first to move, shunning their violent doings toward her. She began to step back, flashing a gaze and the awe-struck, blander twin. The victim had been sighted. The controlling shadow had her around her little finger. She was nothing more than a pawn sat beside, watching. Even if she tried to protest, her words fell on the deaf ears of a soulless creature, one that smiled at the thought of the Raven's flesh being torn. The white servants began to arc around her. Soon, she would be trapped. All she had to do was play it smart. They were shadows. She'd fought countless numbers. Perhaps this would be no different.

"Don't just stand there, start fucking booking it!" With her blade and gun at the ready, she aimed the grapple to the roof she'd descended from. At the right moment, she launched herself to the sky, twirling in an elegant yet finesse manner. Like hell she'd let herself die to someone else's mishaps. They weren't her goal. If she were to die, it would be by hIs rage than anyone else's.

Airborne, she pointed her firearm toward the ground and pulled the trigger. Nothing. Fuck, she forgot to put the magazine back into it. As she clambered onto a window ledge, she looked down to see the shadows physically crawling up its face, doing their greatest effort to reach for her. The black ones did most of the work, rushing her at full force. No time to waste. She drew a magazine from her seemingly bottomless storage and slid it into the chamber. A quick clip of the slider and it was all together. Beneath her cowl, she grinned to herself. The best part of being a lost soul was the carnage that she could inhabit. It was a disturbing feeling for the fleeting essence of a young girl years before, but she was different now. Even Igor had said it himself. She was not the weak one.

A trident thrusted skyward. Two of its three forks narrowly missed the face of her mask, instead slotting either side of the beak and locking her to its grasp. From within her disguise, she glared wildly at their precision. Trapped in its grasp, the aggressor swung the trident rearwards, throwing her off the building. She had been tossed through the air, gliding between the buildings, before landing painfully against the lower rooftop of the neighbouring streetside. The mask was ripped from her face, crashing down to the ground. It dented itself as it hit the cold marble surface, just metres from Kirsty. And just as she did so, the Raven opened her eyes to a disgusting beast emerging from the shadowy light of the beautiful damsel.

Against the edge of the roof, she tried as hard as she could to get to her feet, only for one of the more engaged whiter shadows meeting her landing point. With its trident raised high into the sky, it prepared to thrust it into her head. And yet, with a rather strange dexterity, the Raven raised her firearm quicker, unloading a full spray into its body. It didn't kill it but it sure as hell knocked it far back enough to leap down to the street level. Her balance was off and the fall crumbled her back onto her knees. They moved like dogs, hunting with coordination vastly missed from her years of scouting out the fogged world. And in that moment, she saw the shadow unveil its true form. It was terrifying. Ungodly. A mismatched show of distortion and fear. Muscle and tissue seemed independent of true evolution. A true shadow. A figure of fear. The lack of purpose within the white haired girl, all stood before them.

Rampaged by its sight, she rushed to her feet and began to run towards the White haired girl, who stood with her eyes meeting the beasts. It stared down at her, pitiful of her very existence and denial of who she had encountered. First, there was the group she came with. They were baggage, a means of getting in the way, as the Raven thought, and so she drew out her pistol and fired at the ground, just before the others. Her shots missed, but by the grace of her own aggressiveness she hoped to just scare them away. Whatever, or whoever, they were, she wasn't going to let them walk in the face of danger unarmed. After that, she lunged forward at the white haired girl, taking her by the shoulder and arm and running directly to the side of the street. Whatever little lamposts or podiums that were nearby, she threw her behind, stumbling beside her as she did so.

"Okay...okay...oh fuck." She breathed, reloading her pistol. She hadn't quite clocked onto the fact that her mask was missing, and on display was the sight she'd been hiding from human eyes for years to pass. She looked at the white-haired girl and frowned. "Bloody hell...uhm...stay put. I'll try to sort this one out."

"W-Wait, hold on!" Kirsty stammered, her voice little different from a strangled yelp, but piping up none the less. "You saved me? You're here to help?" She looked out at the chilling visage floating above the street. "A-are you going to...to fight her?"

"Yes I'm going to fight her-...you-...which is her." With adrenaline surging through her body, she twitched like an unhinged door in the wind. She saw two of the service shadows moving towards their direction, tridents armed and ready. They didn't rush as fast as usual, with conflicting circumstances caused by Kirsty's presence hindering their charge. "Uhm...yes. Try not to get fucking m-murdered."

For a moment Kirsty hesitated. Armed or not, the thin, cagey-looking girl before her -only a little older than herself, if she even was- stood barely any chance against even the ranks of trident-wielders before her, let alone the false idol. She wanted to tell her that this fight was suicide, that they should all run, but maybe the girl knew that wasn't an option. Plus, Kirsty couldn't deny a strange sense of responsibility. That thing, that...angelic monstrosity that her double became...it terrified her, but maybe even more than she feared it, she hated it. It stood as a bracing and incredibly on-the-nose culmination of all the worst parts of her. She couldn't forget about the other Kirsty's condemnation while it floated there, incarnate. It needed to go. And if it was a hopeless fight, Kirsty ought to die alongside this poor girl risking her life for her.

"I'll help," she said, her voice remarkably resolute for how much her heart was pounding. "Even if I ran, I can't live with that. Knowing its out here. It'd haunt me." She balled her fists, watching the shadows.

With their time fleeting as the servants marched closer. The Raven had to make a snap decision. She couldn't just leave her defenceless, even if she ended up sitting aside whilst she did all the work. Either way, she'd find herself occupied and unable to help her that much beyond her own focus on the shadow. So, she drew her coupe-coupe blade and forcefully placed it in her hand.

"Don't hurt yourself with it. And don't attack the big one." As soon as she was sure Kirsty had it in her hand, she ran out of cover, diverting the attention of the shadows toward her. Now the real fight was on.

It started with her switching the fire rate to semi-automatic on the handgun, clocking in a few rounds on the one she'd previously injured before. Spectacularly, and rather to her own surprise, the shadow was gibbed violently, reduced to nothing but smoke and ash in its death. One down. Ten and a big one left to go. If only it would be as easy as counting them on her fingers. With the flick of her wrist, she shot the grapple out forward, latching it onto the base of another lamppost. She lay on her back and allowed it to drag her in a quick slide, firing another few rounds off into a second target that lunged for her. Now within the centre of the road, she seemingly changed her entire fragility to one of prowess and unpredictability. Her eyes lit up, shining a lighthouse's beacon straight forward. Her voice rumbled and echoed as she called out the words that forever defined her graceful self.

"Tomapoe!"

In a burst of light, looming over her shoulder, the great and more humanoid beast manifested into the sky with a defiant dance. From its back spread the wings of a ravenous, voracious avian, tipped with the voidlike darkness of its blackened feathers. Its stomach seemed ill-defined, malnourished beneath a plate of darksteel armour. It let out a screech from its pale lips before arching is back, casting an angled shadow over the woman herself. She exhaled, settling her gaze upon the great shadow and the minions that surrounded her. Alone, she would be exhausted at the very least, if she beat them. If by chance Kirsty or any of the other useless ones did something, then only god knew what would happen. These were vile creatures, violent and extreme to all measures. It took desperate defences to do what they could. And now, face to face with the street of someone else's beginning, she let out a call. Extending her hand forward, the persona behind her did the same. And from its fingertips, it began to grow a dark and brooding crimson red.

"Decay away, you pieces of shits!" A powerful gas, infused with a beam of blood-red tones, spewed from the persona's hands, splitting into three separate strands. The first hit the shadow of Kirsty, doing only as much as a temporary graze, whilst the other two swarmed two of the minions. They were engulfed by a raging swarm of the cursed element, dissolving their bodies without any ethical consideration. As the beam finished, she let out an uneasy respiratory temperance. This was it. She felt the fatigue from the single attack, knowing full well that this was a battle to do or die for. And with that in mind, and with her blade in Kirsty's hand, she let out a wicked smile as her hunger grew. This was a power she yearned for, the power she needed to kill the one who took it all from her.

Trial of Shadows | Warrior Cats

When will they stop