Bane of Society

[Bane]

A dark, shadow-like being, seen only to those with an eye as keen as an eagles. Two deep, dark spheres, on of emerald and the other a vacant grey, sliced through the darkness, before disappearing once more, leaving the whole area a large expanse of pure black. A few wheat stalks shivered and hissed as they were moved aside, by something that could only be a field mouse. The two strange orbs appeared again, and once more, they vanished.

In the meadow of shadows, something suddenly glinted. The moon's crescent shone upon a dark surface, lighting it up for a split moment before it was gone again. Though for keen eyes, there would appear a faint outline - the outline, of a cat. Yet the cat appeared to be missing part of its right ear, the outline their jagged. It's clear black pelt merged into the shadows, and it was almost invisible, apart from slitted, emerald and grey orbs, which scanned the surrounding completely emotionless. So, this was the DuskClan Bane had heard all about, was it? It didn't look very inhabited, or like the strong clan the tom had been expecting. Yet, Bane was still prepared to give it time, maybe it would grow on him. He'd had enough of being a rogue, wandering aimlessly and powerless. There weren't even other rogues - he was the only one so far. He missed the heat of a battle, the taste of crimson blood in his jaws, the feeling of his claws ripping the very flesh off another being. He'd had to resort to ripping his prey apart, which wasn't very fun, as mice were unable to plead for their life as your paw presses slowly onto their windpipe, and your jowls were already dripping with their blood.

It killed Bane to admit it, but he missed the company of other cats. Even if he did just plan on killing them if they did the slightest thing to annoy him.

In one swift leap, the strong tom leapt onto a rock, jutting above the wheat in the meadow. His eye - singular, his left eye completely blinded, three scars slicing through it as proof - searched for any sign of existance in this dull area. A scuffling caught his attention, and keen eyes looked down immediately, to the bottom of the rock he was stood upon. A field mouse, twitching it's nose innocently and gnawing on a wheat grain. Bane was surprised it had ventured so close, though the tom was downwind, and had made an effort not to make himself seen. A cunning grin curled the corners of blood-thirsty rims, as claws extended and he leapt onto the ignorant thing. Bane lived for the squeal of his victims as they were caught unexpected, the grin widening as the mouse attempted to escape from underneath Bane's battle-scarred paws, squealing for help.

"There's nobody to help you now, idiot," Bane hissed silently, deciding to keep the mouse alive as he cleanly slitted the belly of the mouse open. A series of organs faced Bane, as he tried to decide which one would be the most fun to take out. He took his claw and tucked it underneath the heart of the mouse, still alive, yet only just. "Say goodbye, mousykins!"

The heartstrings were elegantly pulled at, breaking like a piece of string with only one strand remaining attached. The mouses flanks stopped heaving, a sure sign of it's death. The most amusing thing about it was that it bore an expression of shock, as if it had thought it could get away with eating it's dinner so close to it's predator. Bane snorted, leaping swiftly onto the rock once more. He really did need to find more feline existance to play with.[/size]

[Sabrestar]

"I do not suppose you are very wise in the ways of hunting, are you?"

There was an amused voice that whispered within the distilled shadows, following Bane's omnious words. The speaker, wrought in a straightcoat of darkness, felt a smile curl across elegant lips, perfect in the sense of cold. Amusement curved the creature's words.

"Because of you, prey has scattered miles away. That mouse's cry for help has echoed within the heart of woodland creatures. They won't come out anytime soon."

There was a rustle, then a gentle thud - soft paws against moistened earth. The long, overhanging bough of a tree shook in the forest's wake, breaking the horrified disgust nature seemed to resonate. However, there was one soul who seemed... Amused. Well, more bemused.
Stalks of wheat bent and crunched from underneath the paws of newcoming presence, crackling in protest as the dead straws crumpled relentlessly. The carved elegant silhoutte of a feline was drawn within the background of the Fields, soft and graceful - but with an edge that was more phsycological than physical. The cat's coat melted justly into the hues of black and gray, making her hard to seek within the mass of shadows. Wind rustled faintly, whispering silent remedies of sadness, only to be broken by the harsh reality that lived.
Sabrestar appeared.
Her paws moved in smooth movement, like a dancer's light-footed step. Flawless face was a look of grave innocence, coated with sleekened abyssblack, shimmering like liquid from below the moon's creamy white light. Muscles writhed like snakes but did not overbulk the Clanleader's frame, which was small. Much smaller, almost dwarfed by Bane's hulking figure. But the Warrior strode with as much confidence as a wolf stepping from a dead rabbit.
Two scars broke the perfection carved into Sabrestar's face, below the left eye of two brilliant, glowing lanterns. Silver, they tinted icey blue, masked behind a wall of emotionless stoicality. A simper was kissed upon the lips of Duskclan's Queen.

"Hello, loner."

[Bane]

Auds twitched irritably as they caught sound, possibly the only sound in this area for a while, apart from that mouses plee for it's life. Slitted orbs turned to face in the direction it came from, a bemused grin curling his rims once more. The voice was most definately female, an intriguing find seeing as she seemed to speak as if she owned the clan. DuskClan, owned by a she-cat? Call him sexist, but he couldn't see it being pulled off. Bane elegantly leapt off of the rock he lay upon, sauntering over swiftly. His large body towered over that of the smaller fae's, her pelt as dark as his. There was a silent pause as the tom's single working eye looked the queen up and down. He gave a small, low grunt, before he replied.

"Where's the fun in hunting, if you can't enjoy the squeal as it pleads you to spare it?" he commented, this time not even letting a grin etch itself into his maw. "Like where is the fun in a battle, if you do not get to taste your enemies blood on your tongue, how is that satisfaction? I apologise for scaring off your prey, but will you really be hunting this late at night?" He cast a glance to the moon, dangling in the sky like a light-bulb. Of course, it was able to be done, hunting at night, but most of the prey would be sleeping, something the one who wished to hunt might also consider.

As the fae called him a loner, he gave a weak grin. Loner, what a way to call it. It was true though, he was a loner. He just preferred rogue - it would sound more scary in a tale a mother would tell their kits if you used the word rogue, not loner.

"Please, it's Bane," he corrected her in a low, gruff voice, nodding slightly as was only manners, and would also get him into the clan. As he nodded the long scar that stretched from his forehead to the middle of his back was revealed, one of his favourite scars that his sister had given him. "Rogue since birth, but it gets lonely, being out there on your own. You gotta have company, even if you just want to kill them." He smiled, hoping that she wasn't put of by the last comment. You never know, some leaders were just soft. But he thought DuskClan was made of more than that. Atleast, he hoped so.[/size]

[Sabrestar]

Sabrestar felt her tail stiffen as Bane scrutinized her appearance, feeling his gaze phsyically rake her down as she watched with silent gaurd. Her lips were still dressed with a smile that laughed mutely. She inclined her pretty, lithe head to her right - like a dog would do if it were inquiring a question.

"Where is the fun in hunting when it frightens off all the other prey, leaving hunting arduous and difficult for the rest of the night?"

The female countered, feeling her smile slip even further across her black muzzle. The moon peeked its faint light from above the trees surrounding Duskclan's fields, lighting the metallic steelblue sheen upon the Clanleader's black coat. She took a step, stopping alongside Bane, her eyes glittering with mockery, although it was a more flirtacious than offending as the feline stroked her tail underneath the rougue's jaw.

"How is it fun to taste the blood of enemies on your toungue when you are only killed a few heartbeats later because of your stubborn pride? Cats do not eat each other - neither do we drink their blood. The taste of it is only satisfying because we know we caused the blood to run, not because it tastes good."

Sabrestar let out a soft mrrow of laughter.

"Most mice come out at night, you know."

The Clan Leader didn't look impressed anymore. Or at least, less impressed than she was before. Which wasn't much.

"But now, because you were playing with your food and was too foolish to think, most of the creatures have run from this area, leaving us a barren hunt."

The Curl whipped her tail away from Bane's muzzle, stepping behind him, turning around so that she could fix him with her needle-like gaze once more.

"But onto other business."

The feline sat down, curling her elegant tail around reclined haunches, keeping her pawstep soft and ready to strike if the situation need be. Her strange, curled back ears stook stiff, careful to notice any movement upon the male before her eyes could comprehend. But her muscles relaxed, her shoulders less tense than before - while her mind was still on edge.

"So welcome, Bane."

Sabrestar greeted, still with a hint of amusement and wry deception.

"Might I ask you why you have intruded upon Duskclan's territory? Being lonely is not a specific enough answer, mind you."

[Bane]

Bane resisted the urge to snort as she circled him like a piece of sh*te a kit had forgotten to throw dirt over. His paws twitched, aching to attack as he would if any other rogue treated him like this. But he remembered, that she wasn't a rogue, but the leader of this clan he wanted to get into. Orbs followed her, spotting the flirtacious way she mocked him. If she wasn't infact a she, she would most definately be dead by now. A cunning grin slithered onto his facade, as she mentioned that blood didn't taste good. Pah, maybe not to her, but they say that once a feline tastes it's own blood, they get addicted to it. Had Bane got addicted, or was he just weird? Hmm... I'll let you decide that answer.

As she seemed to finish her little lecture about how you should not play with your food, he gave a short snort. Finally, onto something important! The tom remained standing, if not just for the satisfaction that he was taller than the she-cat. He smiled sheepishly, a hint of cheekyness in his orbs.

"But you haven't told me your name yet; isn't that rude of you?"

He smiled, eventually sitting down. His tail twitched several times like a wild snake, but soon Bane tamed it, and tucked it around his forepaws.

"Why? Because I wish for the thrill of a battle once more. I want to train ignorant kits how to fight mercilessly. Everybody knows DuskClan is the stronger of the four clans... and I wish to be part of that clan, and help it remain or even grow stronger. DuskClan should be a name that sends shivers down even StarClan's spines, but at the moment it seems like just another clan fighting for survival. Is that a better explanation than "cause I was lonely"?"

Bane lifted up one eyebrow questioningly at the she-cat, his tail twitching once more. A chill wind blew across the field, ruffling the tom's short fur and making the scars he bore slightly more visible, even in this faint light.[/size]

[Sabrestar]

"If you value your life, do not mock me."
Sabrestar suddenly whipped her muzzle so she was just an inch away from Bane's nose, hair suddenly standing on end, tail arching stiffly over her thin back. Her fangs were bared- glinting pearly white within the glowing luminosity of the full moon. Her impressive glare glinted with icey fire.
Drawing back, her fur still stood on end - but a smile was across her lips now, her fangs glittering calmly behind black lips. Her tail swayed gently upon the dusty ground, almost completely hidden beneath the tangled mess of wheat and grass. A toungue passed under her nose, caressing her flawless maw with a quick swipe. Raising her paw, she set about grooming herself, as if she had forgotten Bane was even there - but she hadn't. She spoke once more, her eyes away from the male, but her voice directed towards him.
"You impress me, Bane."
Sabrestar commented softly, still not introducing herself quite yet. Her head moved behind her back with the flexibility of a gymnast, drawing her toungue down her smooth, graceful back. Returning her gaze towards him, she didn't shift her stare now - but she continued cleaning her fur so it shone with the glossiness of velvet. Her paw drew itself carefully with practiced ease down the long hairs of her tail.
"You don't snap and break like other loners do, and you show promise. Your mental stability surpasses many I have seen so far, within this forest. You want to admit yourself into this clan? You want to train our stubborn apprentices to be fully fledged warriors? You want to bring down the night sky with fear of us, of Duskclan? You want the eternal glory of being a member of our clan, to rule as one, to curse our lands with your pawsteps? Then your wish is granted, Bane, Warrior of Duskclan. I am Sabrestar."
She smiled - but this time, with a slight sense of genuine welcome.
"However. Your impudent temper has been taken to mind."
Yes, Sabrestar had indeed noticed the taunting glint within Bane's eyes.
"So. I will judge your acceptance thus - there is a loner, wandering within our territory as we speak. He is at the place we call "Abandoned Monster" or, the "Dead Tractor", whichever you prefer. Your first task is to find the place. Your second is to meet this feline, speak with him - and no, do not scare him away. You come back and report to me if you think he is formidable to join our Clan.

I will be watching you.

Goodbye for now, Bane, and hurry to do the bidding of your new leader. Perhaps you will recieve a rank you are satsfied with when you return to Duskclan."

And she dissapeared, melted away into the darkness - as if she was never there.

ooc| -DRAMATIC MUSIC- XD So, Bane, go and speak with Bloodstorm - but don't fight him just yet. Once you've met him, make a post at Duskclan's Camp, and report back to Sabrestar. Then, Sabrestar and Bane will return back to Bloodstorm and accept him. Then, you can have the two get into little squabbles and eventually hate each other - that's when Sabrestar will have them fight for the rank of Deputy. (:

[Bane]

(lol xD hokays Sorry for the shortness of this post, I'mma ran out of muse and am also at my dearest Pura's house x3)

Bane resisted the urge to snort, knowing it would only get him into trouble. His keen orbs remained on the fae, even as she seemed to forget about him, and set about grooming herself. As she mentioned his impudent temper, a sheepish grin cast onto his facade. Tempers weren't always a bad thing, were they? It could cast fear into troublesome kits, so they'd know not to do the same thing again. The black warrior flicked his tail as she mentioned his acceptance task. Finding some old tractor couldn't be hard enough, could it? And this tom... well, Bane would show him a good time.

Bane said nothing to his requested task, merely nodded briefly as she turned and melted into the background. For a moment the tom stayed where he was, slitted orbs watching the space she had vanished into. Then, with a snort and a flick of his tail, Bane turned, his own black pelt melting like a magic trick. So, he needed to find some old tractor, meet a loner and see if he was worth the clan's time? Hardly a difficult job, was it? Still, Bane could make it interesting; and if the tom ran away by the sight of Bane, then that was his problem. Did DuskClan really have time for toms who are scared away at the first sign of trouble?[/size]