Rook had always been a subordinate. Outlawing interaction with the clan cats was a rule he could understand at the time, when they had been weak and spindly, sickly excuses for cats -- alone, a member of the syndicate would never have held their own against a cat hailing from a community as tightly knit as a clan might’ve been. Might’ve been, because there’s something unnerving happening beyond their crooked borders.

Today, he graduates from subordinate. Today, he’ll push his kin into action. To be damned with Renn’s law. They are no longer weak.


“It is time,” his baritone rumbles, his unprompted announcement gaining him the attention of a few sets of eyes. Pushing from the ground, he takes a spot on the highest point, claws clambering for footing atop the fighter’s den. The clearing of his throat is loud, purposefully so. A thrum of pleasure pulses through his chest to see a few more heads turn toward him. "Renn has abandoned us. If you still cling onto some false hope that he might return, I recommend familiarizing yourself with the concept of 'reality'. Accept the abandonment, and persevere."

"Who are we to remain under the rule of a commander who has long since vanished from our lives?" Silence falls -- he half-expects someone to call out to him, to disagree. He only finds them to be solemn and accepting. Perhaps processing it themselves. Pale eyes drift away from the faces of the others, turning upwards toward the heavens. A sparrow glides by, far too high up to ever be caught. Rook continues. "...His disappearance aside, the true reason as to why I wanted your attention deserves to be brought to light."

"I trust that I am not the only cat to have seen the flames." The tom jerks his head to the side, motioning towards the horizon, where smoke had bloomed only a few evenings before, clouding above the conifers and choking away a setting sun. "I'll be going out to investigate. Those who are healthy enough to join me, I ask that you will."

"—Know that this venture will not be conducted under malicious intent. No clan cats will be harmed unprompted."

Rook's head bobs in Augustus' direction, accepting the other tom's offer of companionship on the journey. The travel won't take long at all. Perhaps an hour at most. He still continues waiting, eyes narrowed in thought.

They widen considerably at Patchy's unwanted interruption. She tears attention away from him, draws a hiss of a noise from his nose. Biting his words out through his grit teeth, he resists shoving her away from him -- out of his personal space. Instead, he remains as calm as he can be. Leveling a calm, only mildly irritated glance over to the molly, he responds after a beat of silence.

"No."

"I hadn't asked you for a story, but thank you." the syllables slip from Rook like velvet, a trickle of disinterest as he struggles to keep himself from touching Patchy's flank with his own. Those pale, pale eyes flick over her form, disdainful. "I hadn't realized that's what you'd requested. I shut you out once you made the decision that I'd be your makeshift leader for the time being."


"For the future...as much as I appreciate it," he doesn't. "I'd find myself more thankful if you didn't try to force me into positions." Gratitude is as hollow as his tone, he allows his attention to slip onto the cats gradually gravitating towards the mound he stands upon. Shale's presence is easiest to pick out, his voice reaching Rook's ears only when the tom lowers his head. He makes no attempt to address Shale just yet, instead speaking to Patchy -- he refuses to fully shift his gaze onto the she-cat, however. Apparently, he'd lost interest in the secret she'd revealed, and she herself.

"To answer you, you're free to come. Just don't cause any issue." He neglects to inject a threat into his leaving sentence, the urge to shove her away from his pedestal still itching at his muscles. "If you inconvenience anyone, you'll be sent home without hesitation. Do you understand?"

"As soon as possible," Rook confirms, a nod of acknowledgment directed down towards Locus. He raises his head to count the cats before him, deeming the collection he has appropriate enough to begin a journey towards the clans fairly quickly. "If everyone's fed, we could likely head out by the next crow's caw and arrive by sundown."

Patchy's presence, so close to him, has finally made his skin crawl for long enough. Swinging his hip to the side -- not hard enough to hurt her, mind you -- he shoves her back down to the bottom of the mound. He clears his throat like he hadn't done anything at all.

"...?" Questioning, Rook looks back down to Shale, listening to the tom speak oh-so-politely, oh-so-fake. He finds himself appreciating the effort, regardless. His stance as leader, currently, is only as a means to force the syndicate back into action. His decline to Patchy setting the commander title upon him was done so because this cat, this mouthy she-cat, is in no position to do so. Besides, he's not too keen on being the one bossed around, is he?

"Yes," back to matters at hand, "you're free to participate. I only request that you remain close until given orders to disperse. We'll be investigating the whereabouts of the aforementioned fires before taking any other actions."

Rook's gaze falls upon the pair, inquisitive, questioning himself on what use they'd be in their venture. They haven't a healer yet, if he's correct. The decision is clear. It doesn't take him more than a few seconds to nod his welcoming to Hamlet, and Hamlet alone. He'd been accepted, while Lucifren hadn't. Rook feels he's clear enough on that, despite his decision to not voice the acceptance. With a jerk of his head, he motions for Hamlet to join the gathering of bodies preparing to head off.

"We need a healer," he clarifies, though only to Lucifren. Watery eyes remain on the guard for a moment longer than it should've. Calculating, a sort of coldness that only ice holds, unbroken over murky water. They seem to have something on their mind, something plauging them. Rook finds it to be none of his business; he shan't ask here, now. Perhaps he shan't as at all. "Remain behind as a guard. It's your position, isn't it?"

Rhetorical. His attention now is drawn toward the tom rising to his feet, the gangly hare discarded behind him. Rook meets that hard stare with his own.

Ice shatters when he turns away, towards the conifer.

"The fires have ceased. Have you not noticed? There's no longer the scent of freshly-burned wood, nor clouds of smoke blotting out the sunlight."

"Do you think they're in any position to chase us away after being ravaged by a fire?" Rook bites out, returning his gaze to the other tom. "If we don't move now, when will we? An opportunity should be seized when one opens up to us, for we'll not know when we'll find another like it."

"No one's forcing you to come along," he cants his head. "But you're curious, aren't you? That's why you've come to speak to me."

"Not invading." Rook corrects Calixto sharply, praying his intentions to sate curiosity wasn't misunderstood as intention to rule, or forcefully remove clan cats from their homes. He feels it needed to repeat himself. "No clan cats should be harmed on our inspection, lest they prompt an attack. Cats who attack without reason will be sent back to the syndicate immediately."

"This is not an attack. Don't forget that."

Storm's usage of his name catches his interest immediately. His gray head snaps towards the encroaching tom, suspicious beneath his cold exterior. Cats asking for his permission amuses him greatly, though any hint of entertainment derived from the situation fails to reach his face. A moment of consideration, and he finally nods. Slowly, deliberately. A silent response, similar to the one he'd given Shale. Storm keeps his gaze, and Rook finds himself seeing a vocal response to be necessary.

"Yes. We'll be heading out soon."

"Each of them. We venture to the territories. A group will be sent into each clan-owned area. We will return to an agreed point upon nightfall and exchange information."

"Find cats out in the territory. Corner a single one if you can, have them take you into the clan themselves. If a fight breaks out, you use the clan cat to keep yourselves safe." He states it as if he's not talking about using another cat as a literal meat-shield. "I suppose that's a good thing about a community. Put one of them in line of danger, and you suddenly have the attention of the others."

"But I stand by what I say. No fighting unless it is absolutely necessary."