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  • so frisk has heard some shit through the grapevine, and oh what a story it is! with gossip hailing from westeros to hawkclan to shadowclan to blizzardclan, it's no surprise they also got wind of it, too; that king george is an active sex trafficker, a pimp, a rapist, whatever you want to call it, it's no doubt what he is.

    what a piece of fucking shit.

    they actually only learned of his little stunt today, really, and boy, nobody wanted to see the face they pulled when they had. george is a man frisk thought they could trust, because he was a leader of their newest ally, and both gordon and kate had also trusted him, but this latest development has them doing a double take. the kitten wasted no time in organizing a patrol teeming with those they trusted most— their father, one of their deputies, and a senior member of the sanctuary— and setting out for the knights of eden only to learn from an NPC that the sleazeball wasn't there. they said they didn't know where else he could be when asked, but frisk called bullshit on the spot before storming away, clanmates in tow.

    "I know exactly where he is." and frisk was going to pay the cartel a visit anyway, so they might as well hit two birds with one stone. here under the blaze of the cartel's sun, the child's brown pelt is struck tawny red, the flowers enveloping their throat, cheek, and thigh a gilded orange. they thunder onto the border, a hot, livid, scream tearing from their throat as they do, " GEORGE, I NEED TO TALK TO YOU— RIGHT NOW." and then they stand there, fuming, beside their clanmates. waiting for the sorry fuck to show his face.


    NOT YOUR BABY — the sanctuary — tags   

    The post was edited 6 times, last by MARSALA ().

  • ★ ★ ★

    skylines had never met king george, making his former perception of the other fairly neutral, besides the fact that he was the leader of the cartel. skylines knew what this place was like. he knew that the scent of drugs was stronger than the scent of animals here, that money was on the forefront of every member's mind; he knew that his father-- a drug addict, an alcoholic, a sex-addict-- had lived here in harmony with the clan for some time, and that was enough for this tomcat to know that they were no good. therefore, when he heard of the allegations against king george, he wasn't in the least bit surprised.

    he stood directly behind frisk at the border, hazel eyes staring dully ahead, lips pressed into a thin, flat line. he tried to limit his breathing, wanting to inhale as little of the air that his father stunk up as much as possible. still, despite how his mind was partially distracted by his unsavory connections to this place, he was here for one reason only: to stand by frisk and his clan. he tried to keep his posture erect and confident, even as his mind wandered.


  • "king" george was not, in fact, the leader of the cartel. he was not even the underboss. more accurately, he was one of the most unpopular members who had, as of late, been bringing quite a bit of trouble to the business-oriented gang. despite her friendship of sorts with the saluki, she was not pleased with him. he'd captured, what, three proclanners? two released within the day, one by a cartelian, the third she'd never met, and now they had war on their paws. so upon hearing the screeching voice of a child she would pad lazily forward, foggy emerald gaze drifting over the members gathered. she didn't know the scent, clearly another righteous group of proclan royalty. she called out to the canine in question telepathically- "george, you've got company"- before sinking to her haunches a few yards away from their visitors. "he'll be here shortly. or, if you're feeling generous why don't you go ahead and declare war now so as to save time." this was not the first or second time she'd been through this, and she was growing very irritated with the whole situation. however, her face remained neutral and rather uninterested as she waited for things to progress.

  • the shepherd ever so slightly scoots forward to put themself in front of their clanmates when xael manifests. it's not a show of power that urges them to stand at the head of their patrol but rather, a quiet will to keep their friends safe should a fight break out. although, xael looks more bored than perturbed by a band of strangers in her presence. a shot of gold eyes will level into a solemn glare as they dissect the girl's air of indifference. can the sanctuary back up threats of war? well, certainly; under the youths rule it's netted a mass of people, so war isnt off of the table just yet. "ah, don't worry your sick little pothead about that; we'll get to you guys here in a moment,"— the words are spoken with a slight grimace, soft intoned voice blunt but surprisingly not scorning— "but right now we just want george." and, going on the deputy's promise, it seems he'll be here soon.

    NOT YOUR BABY — the sanctuary — tags   

    The post was edited 1 time, last by MARSALA ().

  • the feline watched the child's reaction. it was a bit funny to watch the pudgy little creature place themself before her groupmates, who looked more than capable of protecting themselves. she gave no visible reaction to the little nickname she was given, as it held no grounds or actual relevance. she'd never used drugs, recreational or not, and she'd hardly sold them but to dean. she rather missed the windclanner's presence, always appearing weekly in search of alcohol or something less savory.

    as she repeated her need for the saluki, her tail twitched in annoyance. she didn't know what exactly they had planned for him, but if it was her choice she'd hand him over- but not to this group, as far as she was aware they'd done nothing to provoke whatever alliance this was. he'd caused them more then enough trouble, with a raid every other day and spies outnumbering members. "and you'll meet him soon." she gave her short reply, seeing nothing else to mention and thus relaxing into the ground. perhaps she should have made an attempt to chase them off, but she was so exhausted with all of the defending that she didn't think she could bring herself to do it.

  • [ i'm prince charmless ]
    //so sorry for the late reply!!

    ah, shit. frisk found him, they had always seemed nice in the brief moments he had met them, but like most others right now, good tidings was not what they had come for. the saluki was spending most time in eden lately, since it proved both safer for him and he cartel if he wasn't there. "i know why you're here, the same as why every other damn clan in the world is showing up, but your anger is with me, not the cartel. leave the rest out of this." george knew he was rapidly losing trust of everyone he knew, and this was another attempt to charm himself with frisk, and to keep xael and the other crewmates off of his back.


    i'm the king of everything *:???

    — king george | king of eden | vampire | asshole™ | played by blurry —

  • TAGS ✦ ✧ ✦ — "I'm not sure if you should be focusing on Capo George when your little buddy looks like he's gonna pass out. I can escort him off the territory, since being here doesn't seem to be doing him any favours." Her voice was tired and flat, the faintest traces of irritation lining it. After having both Westeros and Blizzardclan lead a raid on them, Caera wasn't much interested in what these creatures had to say. She had plans to create, defences to put up, spies to weed out- she had no time to listen to a whiney child demand things while on her territory. She wasn't completely heartless, though; the offer she had made had been genuine. The lilac tabby standing behind Frisk looked about to blow, barely breathing and lips pressed into a line so tight she could barely see them. The Cartel's territory was definitely not for everyone, what with the stench of dead bodies, dr*gs, and who knows what else hanging in the air. Add that to the natural humidity of the jungle and this was not a fun place to get used to. "And no, I'm not gonna push him into a hole on the way. I legit wanna make sure he's okay, aight?" Caera knew that saying this would make no difference, not with the reputation that The Cartel had.

    Her yellow gaze slid over the other party members gathered. The Godmother had never met any of these people, nor recognised the scent that clung to their pelts. She sat down, in between her two Crew mates but farther ahead. Perhaps it was a leaderly instinct, to want to protect your family with your life, or perhaps it was a sign that the two leaders cared too much. The Cartellian Godmother had yet to learn just how stupid this caring act of hers was, how putting herself first in a fight when she could barely manage to land a claw on a smaller opponent was a dumb move. In time she would learn, perhaps from one of these creatures, how stupid caring really was. "It'd be great if you could introduce yourselves, too. Even if we're being "left out of this."" She added in with a glance at George.

  • "S'Kinda our business when your dumb ass starts, what, ten fucking wars," Trevor grunts under his breath. He's getting tired of his crew's pride - tired of their ignorance, their inflated sense of self, their strange entitlement to fair treatment when they decided to up and rape people for cash. They didn't deserve it and he didn't deserve any better for associating with them, but he had loose ends to tie up before he could even think about breaking away from The Cartel entirely.

    Trevor's casual when he strides onto the scene, too casual for two feuding clans standing neck-at-neck at the border and threatening one another with violence. He's got a hairpin trigger and he's more than ready to jump someone; but, for now, he doesn't care enough to emotionally involve himself. "Y'know," he's really starting to wonder why they didn't just exile George and get it over with, and cocks a crooked grin at Frisk when he laughs, harsh, "You can take 'im, if you want. I mean, fuck - let me help you, I've been waiting to punch George in the goddamn throat for days now."


    the mountain dog hardly knew much of the story that surrounded king george. he knew only what frisk and the others had told him, which were of the horrible acts that he had done. despite being much like skylines and not having met the other canine before, he didn't find his mind being set on a neutral mindset on him. instead, he was fucking pissed off that they actually let someone do this for a long time. he wasn't sure if george had stopped his actions, but even if he did, funhaus would still very much be ready to attack him if his child commanded them to. it seemed that the cartel members wouldn't even care if they did attack george, so why not? hell, if his clan members had told him that he was involved with kate somehow, he wouldn't even wait for a command to attack him. funhaus certainly was ready to pull away from his anxiety-covered self and fight george.

    "we're just the sanctuary, that's all," he stated plainly at caera, intense orange eyes staring at her for a few seconds before turning away from her. he wasn't exactly sure how he'd feel if they told anyone their names. probably not good at all. his eyes snapped over to trevor, and the bernese mountain dog raised an eyebrow at his words. he wasn't sure what frisk was planning to do with george other than talk to him about stuff, so he stayed quiet for the time being.


    she gives me toothaches just from kissing me

    funhaus kovic bonaparte / the sanctuary / tags / plot / ‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒ ✧・゚: *✧・゚

  • and there he is, just as xael has assured. attention for the cartellian deputy puddles into nonexistence, and frisk eyes the man venomously, lips pressing into a hard, thin line as he speaks. his initial thoughts regarding them as a person in general aren't wrong; the youth is nice, but if there's one thing they hate it's being left in the dark. if there's another it's betrayal, and dear george has committed both treachery and secrecy as far as they're concerned. "wrong," they rebuff him after there is a lapse in his speech patterns, a sign that it's their turn to talk now, "i've got something to say to you and them." a paw flicks out, waves toward the apathetic presence of xael as if she represents the cartel as a whole, and their attention turns toward caera as she comes up onto the scene, a temporary distraction.

    the latest leader of the cartel and a child like them, albeit she appears older. they're prepared to just ignore her, speak with her once they're done with george, but when skylines is put on the spot like that, she has their eyes locked on her. their head twists to study him themself, noting the queasiness lined in his face that makes his features pale something awful. sympathy strikes, and they aim to press against him briefly in what is meant to be tender comfort, while turning back to study the woman once again, "my friends here can walk him out if he wants to leave," a risk, perhaps, to send away two of a four man patrol, but what's the harm in doing so? hell, all three of frisk's friends can shove off, and they won't blink an eye. they're on grudgingly peaceful terms, and even if everything goes to shit, they trust that they will make it out just fine. and if they dont, then so be it. they'll accept the loss with grace so long as nobody else is hurt. "but thank you for your concern." they agree with funhaus about not willing to give them their names, and let their father talk without disrupting.

    and then there's trevor. another distraction, one incredibly willing to hand over george, much to the youth's disgust. "we don't want your garbage." they dismiss the offer with an offended hiss, nostrils flaring at the thought of dragging the king into their home, where the children and their elderly live, where their family and friends rest. they don't want him anywhere near the sanctuary ever again, and unless he has a death wish he should respect their wishes, "you've got like, five clans hassling your butts already, give him to one of them." heck, sunclan would probably pay good money for the slimeball, even. they'd be getting rid of their headache and lining their greasy pockets at the same time (but that wouldn't stop the war, no doubt)!

    "now, as i was saying..." finally, finally, they refocus on george, lips tugging back into a grim snarl, "you sir, have royally screwed yourself over." an understatement. a major understatement. "you've trashed two clans' reputations in just a day. how the fuck does that even happen?" the cartel never had a good rep to begin with, but the knights were depicted as noble, peace-loving, vehement defenders of justice, and george completely and totally destroyed that image the second he did what he did. a rapist. who the hell serves under a rapist? hypocrisy at its finest, they know, but staying with bill was different. they hadn't been able to leave, weakened by the journey and then later by the torment at the demons very own hands. and with darkstalker prowling the edges of the rebellion's territory, waiting for them, they couldn't find the courage to try and escape until the end game burned everything to the ground. frisk didn't really have a choice retaining to whether they could stay or go at the time, but george's people do. and they chose to stay. "the knights of eden are no longer associated with us. we're through, we're done, it's over. you've been dropped down to enemies and a war is probably on the way, bub." they deliver the already expected news, then go in as to why they are enemies now, "if you had came to us when crap hit the fan, you still would have been dropped from our list of allies, but there was a chance (a very slim one, I'll admit it) that our clans would be neutrals. instead, we've been locked out of the loop of your shit-stain performance for who knows how long, and only learned of what you did when we went to an ally's party and heard it from the mouths of their freaking guests." frisk learned it from a shadowclanner, no less— a group that has no ties with the sanctuary in any way whatsoever. "so you and your little clan are done for. ah, congratulations! you're screwed, bye." they rub at their left temple to ease the insufferable pounding behind their eyes, as eyes graze the others once again. they are so freaking done. "we're more angry with george than you lot, if we're being honest here. we aren't dropping you down to enemies or anything drastic like that, but expect to see us on the front lines the next time there's a raid." because more than likely, it'll be a westeros raid, and what kind of ally would the sanctuary be if they didn't lend their friends a helping hand. "drop us down to enemies if you want, i don't really care." cartellians are more of a nuisance than a threat, anyway.

    while that sinks in, the youth turns toward their patrol, expression dulled with annoyance and frustration, but their voice is blunt rather than angry, as they announce, "c'mon guys, we're going home." and then frisk struts past and off of the territory, certain their friends will follow. they're done here.

    /out ♥

    NOT YOUR BABY — the sanctuary — tags   

  • xael sat serenely as things continued. the sanctuary.. she'd never heard of them, but her behavior didn't seem particularly mature to be the leader of a group with such a name. she spent some seconds trying to decide which reputations he'd trashed- the knights, certainly, but the other she couldn't decide on. the cartel had no reputation but a bad one, and his actions did nothing to change it. perhaps she was speaking of her own puny group, whose reputation somehow hinged on the leader of a single ally.

    she was quite the long-winded child, though all she demonstrated was a misunderstanding of the cartel. if their neutrality with a group was not established, they were an enemy. it was not a matter of 'dropping' them, as they already had a comfortable spot on the list. as she finally finished up her speech and turned to leave, the underboss would wave a dainty lilac paw. "bye, friends." she'd hum, offering an enigmatic smile to any who turned their attention to her. as soon as they were all departed, she'd twist to face george, eyes narrowed. she had nothing to say to him, but she still wanted to hear what he had to say.

  • [ i'm prince charmless ]
    "fine. i won't bother your fucking sanctuary, that's what the purpose of this was, right?" george scoffed, a loud hiss rolling off of his tongue. he was done with frisk, and he was done with fighting for right now, george was tired. but then trevor's words registered in his heightened ears, and he whipped around to face the canine. "i think you should shut your fucking mouth, i don't see you trying to help. if this is too much for your whiny ass, then leave." he hoped frisk noticed, and he hoped every other sanctuary member noticed. george offered a red-tinted golden glance to xael, his face a scowl, the venom from his words still dripping in the air.

    then the saluki waltzed away, white tail swinging in the air behind him.



    i'm the king of everything *:???

    — king george | king of eden | vampire | asshole™ | played by blurry —