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TDE | Duskstorm | Deputy of ShadowClan. by allstarbysmashmouth TDE | Duskstorm | Deputy of ShadowClan. by allstarbysmashmouth

*Full-body drawn by =Elesette, paw drawn by ~skitty22! ;w;
**This is to scale; she is a bit taller than the average male, being about 15" tall.


Former names:
 Night of Falling Stars, Midnight, Dusk

  27 moons




 Sokoke / Bengal Mix

 Duskstorm is typically thoroughly groomed. Her glossy dark, leopard-spotted fur, despite being a medium length, is normally quite tidy, and though many scars and scratches cover her body underneath, it is not necessarily a flaw. It looks good on her, as it would for many cats of her status. Her lucid green eyes look like glistening emeralds with a fire in their center, no matter her current temperament. Slender, yet muscular, she is what any tom would want. Her posture shows authority that some would cower over. Even her silver claws are strong and sharp, ready for battle at any given second. The she-cat's tail is of average length. Her paw pads are black, and the leathery part of her ears is very dark pink in hue. Her nose is petite and black, but sensitive, with a leathery feel to it.

 None thus far.

{ Personality }

[ Ambitious | Supporter of law/order | Courteous | Live wire | Others can't be relied on | Insists on own view | Lacks any spiritual, inner connection ]

{+} Ambitious - - - From the beginning, Duskstorm has had the position of leadership scoped out for herself. There was no point in simply wishing for it, or doing just what she had to do. No, Duskstorm has always striven to rise above what was expected of her, to be admired, praised, respected. She gripped recognition like nourishment, always wanting more, more, more. And she made a place for herself at the top; her hard work and dedication got her to the very place she's always had her sights on.

{+} Supporter of law/order - - - Duskstorm likes to reinforce the rules constantly, and anything that goes against them, she will reject promptly. Her outlook demands for a strict criminal justice system, especially in relation to violent and property crime, through harsher criminal penalties. She is as committed to the code as warriors come these days, regardless of her origins. It is in part because of this that ShadowClan has been given such a nasty reputation. Nevertheless, her followers aren't nearly as bad as the cats of the other Clans make them sound.

{+} Courteous - - - Duskstorm makes a point to extend the utmost generosity to visitors. She looks upon those in tight situations with pity, and has a hospitable outlook towards them. Courtesy always pays off in the end, to her—it's one friend gained versus what could have been a grudge made and an enemy earned. So with any chance she gets, she tries to make good impressions. And if it doesn't go so well, then... Well, she likes to think everything works out in the end.

{+/-} Live wire - - - Regardless of her predominant and usual personality traits, Duskstorm is a dynamic figure and should not be underestimated. She can be pushed over the edge like any other cat, and frightened, confused, saddened. However, excitement and positive emotions are something of a rarity with her. She can be energetic or enthusiastic, but pure happiness isn't something you see in her often. She tries to appear very stable and keep her emotions in check, but in moments of intensity, expect everything; don't mark off any possible reaction.

{-/+} Others can't be relied on - - - Long ago, Duskstorm lost her sense of faith in others. After moons of waiting—waiting for her family to come, to find her and take her back to her true, or rather, kit-hood, home—she was left to her own devices. She was trapped in a group of unfamiliar cats, whose ways were different than what she was used to. Whose beliefs she didn't understand. Where she was expected to fit in and prosper. She never looked to others in faith then, she's always stood alone against the obstacles she's faced since.

{-} Insists on own view - - - Whatever Duskstorm says, goes. She is closed off to the opinions of others, confident in her own perspective and decisions. Though she respects Shadowstar's authority, she would always prefer to be respected the same way as her second-in-command. In this way, she could be called stubborn, for she will certainly deny being wrong unless evidence that she is is shown to her and backed up. This trait was probably inevitable for her to have taken on, as she has been on such a winding road through her years. Every once in a while, though, she'll actually go looking for advice, and during that time, this trait will seem to become recessive.

{-} Lacks any spiritual, inner connection - - - What more could you expect from such a detached soul? This she-cat was literally stolen away from her very home, not pursued as far as she knows, discarded and left to die, and then finally taken in. As someone she wasn't. But she followed through with life. She could have left; that much is true. However, preferring a safe haven in the band of rogues to solitary life, she stayed. And trying to fit into a skin that wasn't her own has left its mark. She never quite settled properly, and though she is confident in herself, she isn't confident in who she is, deep down.

{ Backstory }

 Once there was a strong, handsome tom named Crow's Flight Through The Dark, and a slender all-brown she-cat named Vole That Burrows In The Ground. They lived together in an prosperous feline society, a Tribe; he, a camp-guard of the living place of the group, and she, a prey-hunter. Eventually, Vole and Crow grew to be very close to with one another, and both, in time, fell for one another. After being together for a while, they discovered that Vole was going to have kits. Their joy at finding out that Vole was expecting was overwhelming; for a while, the whole Tribe buzzed with the happiness of it. Vole's and Crow's kits were born healthy and strong on a cold, snowy winter morning. One was a gray-brown tom, whom was named Moss That Clings To Stone. Two others were darker-furred almost identical, a tom and a she-cat. The black tom was named Feather Of A Crow, after his father, and the she-cat who looked so much like her brother was named Night Of Falling Stars.

 When Feather, Night, and Moss were still merely kits, they sneaked out of the Tribe's camp, beyond the knowledge of even watchful Vole, to explore the kingdom. Moss and Feather didn't travel far, but Night wandered farther—on a dare from Moss. She wandered so far that she quickly got lost. A heavy rain began, quickly flooding the area where she'd ended up, and washing her even further from the kingdom. A passing rogue heard her mewling for help as she struggled to stay afloat in the floodwater, and snatched up little Night and took her away, carrying her further yet from her home and her loving family.

 The rogue, named Theo, turned out to have a mate—Ristia. The couple had had a single, leopard-spotted kit that had died of starvation in the winter, and Theo had sought out a new kit in a desperate attempt to pull Ristia out of depression. But Night didn't change anything. Theo, frustrated with himself, Ristia, and the stolen kit, literally threw Night away, where she landed in a puddle of muddy water on the border of a rogue family's territory. Paralyzed in fear and shock, Night didn't know what to do. She huddled, shivering, in the mud, waiting for somecat to come back for her. But no one did—until morning. A lone warrior found her, and shouted in astonishment, "Midnight is alive!"

 She was not called Midnight, thought the she-kit, trying to get out of the mud and away from the unfamiliar she-cat. "Midnight, where are you going?" The she-cat scolded, like Night's own mother once had so long ago. "Why did you run away like that? You... I thought you were dead! We all did! You will never do that again, you bee-brained kitten, do you understand?" Night didn't understand. She whimpered in fear, but she didn't have the strength to escape the she-cat's jaws when the warrior scooped her up and took her away from her last home.

 At first, Night was hesitant to speak to anyone. There were so many cats in this new place, and they were all unfamiliar and each acted so strangely. However, in some vague way, the place reminded her of her first home... But... what was her first home, again? Scared from this sudden forgetting, Night picked through her memories, but she could hardly distinguish them any more. She remembered only in visuals, and she couldn't remember who or what the each visual memory entailed. Night felt isolated. She slowly began sliding into her new alias, Midnight—accepting that as her identity, and letting go of whatever vague memories of her previous life that remained. She was Midnight now—Midnight of this band of rogues.

 When she got bigger, she began to under go training by the older cats. Once again, her memory was piqued—a feeling of déjà vu, almost, shook her as she said those two, powerful words—"I accept." She did not receive another new name of any sort, but she was assigned a cat to tutor her in the traditions of the rogue group, a tom named Stone, who was supposedly Midnight's uncle.

 Midnight had outsider's blood. In her first home, she was in line to be a food gatherer (though she did not remember this), but in the rogue group, there was no such thing. She trained in the ways of a rogue, and she turned out to be a natural—at least in hunting. Though she struggled in battle training for the first moon, she excelled in hunting training—enough to be thought of as "skilled beyond her level of training." Praised constantly, Midnight developed a great sense of pride, and pushed to achieve excellence in battle training. At ten moons, she was ready to be made a warrior. However, Midnight had an idea. She couldn't explain it, but she wanted to preserve her past name. All the things she'd let go of from her past, except one thing—her name. On a whim, she visited the leader figure in her branch of rogues, and told him that she had a request to make. Curious, a higher-up (Rowan) within the group told her to go on, and Midnight expressed how she would like for her name to be changed to Dusk. The reddish-furred tom accepted her request kindly without exactly asking for an explanation, noting to himself the she-cat's boldness. The next week, Stone held for her an assessment of all that she'd learned, which she reportedly "passed with flying colors". As per request, Midnight was renamed Dusk during her initiation into the adult troupe the following day, leaving her very satisfied with herself and her place in the group.

 Dusk continued to be an exemplary adult figure throughout the prime time of her adulthood, catching prey every day, rain or shine, and even hosting her own training sessions from time to time with eager young pupils. This paid off, for when the former higher-up's assistant retired, Dusk, at just 20 moons old, was chosen as the leader's new assistant. When Dusk had just turned 26 moons old, Rowan passed away—he'd been on his last legs ever since she was named his new assistant. Confused and anxious, Dusk took one of the lead roles amongst the rogues.

 One night, when the moon was full, many of cats agreed to meet at a clearing in the forest surrounded by four great oak trees. They argued over stolen prey. Claws flashed; challenging yowls rang across the forest. A terrible battle followed, and soon the ground was wet with spilled blood. Exhausted by their wounds, the survivors slept where they fought. It was impossible to tell who was alive or dead.

 When the few survivors awoke they were bathed in moonlight. All around them were spirits of their slain kin, no longer torn and bloodied but shining like stars. They huddled on the ground as the spirits spoke, and saw terrible visions of the future. They saw forest drowned in blood, their kits stalked by death every pawstep. They knew that the fighting had to end.

 "Unite or die." said the spirits.

 From among the living cats, a dark-furred female was the first to speak. She rose from the ground on stiff, battle-wearied legs. "My name is Shadow," she meowed. "How should we unite, unless we have a leader? I can hunt in the depths of the darkest night. Let Shadow rule the forest!"

 "And you would lead us into darkness too!" meowed a silvery gray tom with green eyes. "I am River! I move through the forest along secret paths and hidden places. It is River, not Shadow, who should unite the forest!"

"The forest is more than River and Shadow," Growled a wiry brown female. "Wind alone reaches its distant corners. I am as fast as the wind that blow from the high moors. I should be ruler."

"All of you show petty arguments," sighed a cream colored tom, "Sky sees all around him, nothing escapes his eyes. It is I that should unite felines like ourselves."

 The largest of the surviving cats was called Thunder. He was a fiery orange tom with amber eyes and large white paws. "What good is any of that compared to my strength and skill at hunting? If any cat was born to rule, it is I."

 A furious yowling broke out under the four great oaks, watched in silence by the spirit-cats. Dark clouds suddenly blew across the moon, they saw a tabby cat, one of the fallen, her fur shining through there was no light in the sky. Her eyes flashed angrily at the cats on the ground.

 "You're all as foolish as ducks!" she meowed, "Can't you think beyond yourselves for one moment? Think of your kits!"

 The five cats—Shadow, River, Wind, Sky and Thunder—looked up at the tabby, but none of them spoke.

 "The forest is big enough to feed all your families and many more," She meowed. "You must find other cats like you, choose a home in the forest and set down borders."

 At that moment, the moon broke free of the clouds, revealing a circle of starlit spirit-cats around the you with eight more lives, so that edge of the clearing. A white tom stepped forward. ''If you do this," he meowed, "We will reward you with eight more lives,so that you may lead your Clans for many moons to come.''

 Next to speak was a slender tortoiseshell. She stepped forward and stood beside the white tom. "We will watch over you from silverpelt." she promised, and lifted her eyes to the crowded path of stars that swept across the night sky. "We will visit you in your dreams and guide you on your journeys."

 "Once a month," meowed the white tom, ''at the full moon, you will gather together here, between the four great oak trees, for a night of truce. You will see us above you in silverpelt and know we are watching. And if blood is spilled on those nights, you will know we are angry."

 ''You will be warriors!" yowled the tabby from the highrock.

 One by one, the other cats murmured their agreement. Then they returned to their homes and sought out cats like themselves, with similar strengths. River found cats willing to fish for their prey. Shadow gathered night time hunters with clever minds and sharp claws. Thunder found hunters who could track prey through the thickest undergrowth. To Wind came the fastest runners and cats who loved the open moors. They divided the forest so each Clan had enough prey to survive, and all the cats could live in safety. And when the leaders returned to the four great oaks for the first night of the full-moon truce, their starry ancestors gave them eight more lives, as they had promised.

 There was not always peace between Clans, but that was to be expected—cats are born with claws and teeth for a reason. Still, as long as they lived by the warrior code, their fallen ancestors would watch over them and guide them through their lives.

 And so the age of the warrior Clans, of Duskstorm, and of ShadowClan, began.

{ Relationships }

:bulletblack: | Acquaintance
:bulletyellow: | Neutrality
:bulletblue: | Like/Friend
:bulletgreen: | Good friend
:bulletpurple: | Crush
:bulletpink: | Love
:bulletorange: | Family
:bulletred: | Discomfort/Dislike
:bulletwhite: | Hate

  { Relation // Long-Term // Short-Term }

[ Name ; ] — { :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: } — "Filler."
[ Name ; ] — { :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: } — "Filler"

[ Name ; ] — { :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: } — "Filler."
[ Name ; ] — { :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: } — "Filler."

[ Name ; ] — { :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: } — "Filler."
[ Name ; ] — { :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: } — "Filler."

[ Name ; ] — { :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: } — "Filler."
[ Name ; ] — { :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: } — "Filler."

[ Name ; ] — { :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: } — "Filler."
[ Name ; ] — { :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: } — "Filler."

[ Name ; ] — { :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: } — "Filler."
[ Name ; ] — { :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: // :bulletblack: } — "Filler."

{ Roleplay Sample }

 Duskstorm's eyes burned. Her muzzle was pressed into her uncle's body, which was now as cold as ice. She'd never felt this sort of grief before—or at least, never shown it. Letting out the pain... It hurt, possibly more than it did to bottle it up. Her throat, clenched tight with sorrow, was as dry as a stream bed in... Greenleaf. She swallowed and burrowed her muzzle deeper into Stonestripe's empty form. She was so sad, yet anger bit at her mind. For a moment, she would step outside herself and try to tell herself that she was going about this the wrong way, yet was she? Her consciousness would then kick in and reconcile; her uncle and teacher had been murdered! She had the right to be frustrated! However, he was killed in her presence. That meant that she was either the killer—which, frankly, she wasn't—or she had to find the killer; and punish them.
 The newly-named deputy flexed her claws, feeling them curl up and penetrate the hard soil. She flared her lip and dug them into the tough ground, tightening her jaw as she imagined sinking them into the flesh of Stonestripe's killer. Whoever did this... They had no idea what they'd gotten themselves into. Her lips twitched, slowly curling into a spiteful grin. She pulled her head up from the old gray tabby's limp form to stare at the twinkling night sky above. The stars seemed to be falling from the sky, an event which she'd only ever been present at once before in her life; the night of her birth.

 A lithe, dark-furred she-cat tiptoed up a rocky slope, silent as an owl in flight. Her deep green gaze was fixed, longingly, on a squirrel that was burying acorns beneath a golden oak tree. Her tail lashed once, but then lowered, and she stalked onward, ears perked for the slightest intrusion of sound and jaws creaked open as she scented the air. This continued for a few moments until the sleek-furred huntress had encroached the safe zone of the bushy-tailed rodent—for then, she bounded forward without warning, and before she batted an eye, the ginger-pelted creature was hanging, limp, from her bloodied jaws. It was a clean kill, and Duskstorm left promptly, in search for a new hunting place. She had been lucky to have found this piece of prey; this area had been known to be of poor hunting, and she was off to one of her favorite places to hunt: the Moon River Rocks. She cringed as she remembered how Stonestripe had introduced her to it. The sun warmed the red stones around the riverbanks during the day, and during the night, the moonlight was reflected in the river and the rocks were bathed in silver light. It was a beautiful place, and a favorite sleeping area for the senior warriors who had the energy to make the trek. Sometimes mentors came to train their apprentices to hunt here, for, as the Moon River was the main source of water in the territory, prey was bountiful. During Leafbare, the river of course froze over, but during Greenleaf, the river was a strong force to be reckoned with. This river served as the northern boundary of ShadowClan's territory, and it was the first place Stonestripe had taken Duskstorm when she had been an adolescent.

 The deputy's glistening emerald-green eyes shone in the morning light as she came within sight of this life-filled area, and she increased her pace, experiencing the same excitement and energy she'd felt upon being introduced to this place so long ago. Yet at the same time, grief racked her brain, for now that Stonestripe was gone, this place was sacred to her and she would always connect it to him in her mind.

{ Playlist }

:bulletblack: Let Me Die - The Classic Crime
:bulletblack: Fallen Leaves - Billy Talent
:bulletblack: Cohen's Masterpiece - BioShock

{ Featured In }

:bulletblack: Headshot

Duskstorm © =sophisticated-cat.
TDE © =Elesette / ~DawnsComing.
Art © ~skitty22.
Theft will not be tolerated.
arwogin Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Ahhh dude she looks awesome. Congrats on getting in! We'll have to roleplay sometime x3
allstarbysmashmouth Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2013
Thank you, Arw! Congrats to you as well, dear fellow. ;u;
Indeed we will! :'D
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