joiner > around the world

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    cain limped up to the border, his leg still slightly damaged from a run-in with a pissy lioness. he was not quite sure he was up for joining a clan again after the fiasco in the tribe of burning dreams, but he felt lost without an anchor. cain wasn't a loner. he was the clannish sort, to be honest. a person like him got sick if they were by themselves too long. the cerberus kicked at a clod of dirt next to him, sending up a spray of dirt. sweat trickled down cain's spine, brought on by the bubbling lava pit nearby. he wasn't built for this type of weather. perhaps it would have been better just to stick it out and deal with deathstroke's crazy back in the tribe. at least there he had his own personal arctic.


    damn, he was stupid. the cerberus sighed and rolled his shoulders, the usual pops and cracks calming him. [b]"i'm looking to join. name's cain." well, that got the typical questions out of the way.
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    "Good for you," Drumlin muttered. He was... reluctant to allow Cain into the Clan, seeing as he carried the scent of the Tribe of Burning Dreams with him. They were definitely enemies, after all, and even if Cain had renounced all ties.... Drumlin'd been targeted from an assassin from there far too recently to ignore any others that came from there. "Name's Drumlin," he muttered, not sure what else to say.

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    cain eyed drumlin warily, but seeing as the male wasn't hostile, so to speak, all three of the cerberus's heads broke into smiles. not exuberant ones, but friendly ones nevertheless. [b]"in case you are wondering,"     his middle head rumbled, "i am not longer a member of the tribe of burning dreams. they strayed from sister abigail's intended path and forsook their duties." cain's bottomless eyes burned with fervor. this was an issue the cerberus felt especially passionate about. he had been one of the original tribers, and looked up to sister abigail, deceased though she was.
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    Regardless of what he said, Drumlin wouldn't trust him easily. Then again... he didn't trust easily, so perhaps it wouldn't make much of a difference. "Very well," he said, dipping his head. "Would you like a tour, or perhaps some refreshments?"

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    cain's smile turned cold, but it stayed. drumlin was certainly not someone he felt comfortable around, but oddly enough he felt respect towards the other male. cain didn't trust easily either. this drumlin, he was careful, and that was a good trait to have. the cerberus's heads moved in unison - a nod to the devoted drumlin. [b]"refreshments would be nice."
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    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width:320px; padding:10px;][fancypost borderwidth=0px; height:90px; width:70px; background:url(http://i.imgur.com/1kuRCv8.png?2); background-position:center; border: 5px solid #F9D37E; border-radius:500px; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;][/fancypost][/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; width:350px; font-family: helvetica; font-size:11px; color: #fff; text-align:justify; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;]"As long as your not with them anymore, there'll be no problem," Mac shrugged. They actually had a couple of members with a dual alliance. One of them being an enemy. It was an interesting- and vaguely paranoia inducing- concept for the hound. But that was when one was still a member. If Cain truly had left, there shouldn't be anything to worry about, but he definitely understood the caution. "Name's MacCready, by the way," he dipped his head, "welcome to Boneclan."
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    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=transparent; width: 425px;][justify]★ ★ ★[size=3pt]--[/size] [size=11pt]The serval was soon to slink over, curiously watching the conversation between the two before Maccready sorted things out. He blinked his eyes once before speaking up. "Hey, the name's Pishacha Stormus and welcome to the clan" he chirped, keeping his head still as he kept focused.
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    TAGS + INFO

    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 420px; height: auto; font-family: georgia; font-size: 12px; line-height: 140%;][justify]As an animal that was fairly relaxed in day to day life, Feliks' caution would normally be short-lived, but anything related to the Tribe of Burning Dreams was an exception. At the hands of one of their members, Feliks had lost his rank, his supersenses for a long time, his ear, the strength in his back legs, but almost his life as well. He was being honest, the shit had been kicked out of him, and though he would tell his tales differently, the grudge was still forever there.


    Plus, with all that had happened to his BlizzardClan clanmates, it was hard to forgive, a helluva harder than it had been to forgive BoneClan and ThunderClan in the past. "You knew Deathstroke then?" Feliks asked as he padded over, hopeful twang in his voice. "Can you tell us anything interest about them? My Supersenses don't pick anything up outside of this planet,". Super senses and teleportation still worked together, but Feliks had learnt his mistake in regards to that.


    He's a joiner jackass, not an almanac. Hmph, rude, but there was a point to be made there. It was probably best to introduce himself before piling on the questions, Feliks had manners darn it. "Ah, uh, apologies for being overzealous there. Sorry, if you don't want to answer them, you don't have to. Name's Feliks, a Rurikid around here, it's nice to meet you," the wolf smiled, dipping his head in greetings.

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    Drumlin conjured up a few chickens (dead, of course, and cooked), and a pitcher of apple juice, setting the array out in front of Cain. There was enough for the others as well, he figured, if they wanted some. He had no idea about what Cain preferred, of course, hence the simplicity of it. Who didn't like chicken and apple juice?

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    [b]"thank you,"     replied cain, with a respectful dip of his head to the tsar. he smiled at pishacha, acknowledging the serval with a short nod, and turned to feliks, who had some...interesting questions, per se. at the mention of deathstroke, the cerberus shook his middle head. he had never liked the assassin - or assassins in general, they were untrustworthy - but sister abigail had placed her trust in him, and look where that had gotten the tribe. "i did know deathstroke. he is somewhat like this bill cipher of yours, and he enjoys crossdressing," a rare, genuine smirk crossed the cerberus's maw. "but all jesting aside, he is a formidable foe, and not one to be trifled with. i would prefer not to betray the integrity of the tribe, but they are fragile, internally. they no longer know whom to trust, or who their leader truly is. an organized attack could prove fatal. also, the pleasure is all mine, feliks." cain then turned to drumlin, who was proving to be the truthful sort. when he had mentioned refreshments, this was not what he had expected, but it was welcome nonetheless. "you have my thanks, drumlin." carefully, for his paws were not built for this sort of thing, he picked up the pitcher of apple juice and sipped from it, serving each of his heads in turn.
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    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 420px; height: auto; font-family: georgia; font-size: 12px; line-height: 140%;][justify]Huffing and smirking, the comment about him crossdressing was enough to get him to ease up. Deathstroke had never seemed like the type of guy to partake in such activities, but hey, to each their own unless the guy got embarrassed by that sort of stuff. "Big bad assertive assassin... and he likes being feminine every once in a while... Well I never,". Though he saw nothing bad about crossdressing, thinking of Deathstroke doing it just brought about nightmares... yikes.


    Thank goodness they went onto more political matters, he was scared that image would burn away his brain. "Yeah... I know. He's a nasty piece of work,". He didn't like them, image of assassins having been tainted through experience. Closing his eyes as he memerised the information, the Rurikid would finally dip his head in gratitude. "Thanks for sharing that however,". If the balance was off, Feliks saw his opportunity to completely tilt it to screw them up.


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    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 490px; height: auto; font: normal 8pt verdana; text-align: justify; margin-top: -15px; line-height: 13px] woah, so they were talking about some type of bad guy. well, alph would just have to slam an ax into somebody's head real soon if that was the case. with a bored glint in her eye she would trot over, saying [b]"alphys. nice to meet ya."


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