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survival of the fittest
Cats of all shapes and sizes cross through our lands, so I can’t say I’m terribly surprised we crossed paths. Quite a time you found the League in. We’ve had our highs and our lows, but we’ve always persevered. Almost like a cockroach, you can’t really kill us. This was once the abandoned city of Absum Lux. When we took it over, it was like a paradise all to ourselves. World was our oyster. Of course, all good things must come to an end. The twolegs came back and with them came the trumpets that caused our Jericho walls crumbling down. With the city revamped, so too have our ideals. But don’t come here thinking we’re soft. We’ve survived worse than you’ll ever throw at us. Our teeth are made of iron, and blood has coated these new streets. Just because the monster under the bed hasn’t scared you recently doesn’t mean it's dead.
congrats to Ian, Lore and Shadow on becoming Shaman, External Affairs Proxy and Internal Affairs Proxy in order please congratulate them. and don't worry, we have plenty of tryouts ahead
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Smooth muscles hide underneath long fur of blacks and greys with eyes in contrast of being startling green. One of regal appearance is that as his name suggests but there is nothing regal about him. Born to the lowest of lives how could he ever be considered that of high status? Instead he was born a loner and living the life of just that, stealing for food instead of starving and killing if it meant that his life could continue on. He has only lived for himself and only cared for himself, so why should he care about others? Because he is smart enough to know he will not live long by himself. He knows that one simple injury in the battle of life and death could be end game for him. If he wants to live he needs to be able to have others in his life that could help support and care for him if needed. Sacrifice themselves for him in his stead if needed. In return he would give his talents of clever thought and tactic to those who need it. He knows his worth in the swiftness in his feet, the moments he takes to think before he speaks, his quick decision making he needs if it mean life or death to himself or others, and no hesitation on taking a life as a sacrifice in this wild game of survival. So in truth no he is not regal, he was not born of high blood status and knows others of pure blood would be considered greater, however he is better because he could easily beat them. He knows the rules being born of dirt, having the scars of being a fighter, and having the blood on his paws of being a survivor. No one of high status could get their paws dirty like he has. He will do whatever it takes so do not get in his way.





There isn't much known about this quiet she-cat. No songs are sung and no stories are whispered of her beginning. None remember a time when she wasn't there in the shadows, ever watching, like a dark guardian, descending on high upon those who'd dare lay a claw or fang on those she called her wards. All that is known is that she is the Watcher. It seems the very task of ensuring and safekeeping the livelihood and existence of her kin was placed upon her back by some unseen entity. Whatever the truth may be, it will not be revealed to any measly passerby or curious soul. Only those who see her for who she is, not what she was born to or what path lay ahead of her, may be granted the tale.



Abrownish-grey tom with white markings and pale amber eyes. Alexios is a prideful tom and has a lot of perhaps unearned confidence, meaning his plans don't always work out the way he thinks they will. Loves to play pranks on others, silly.



There is perhaps no cat more self centered, or self-serving than Paramore. All her life she has been complimented on her stunning appearance which without a doubt has gone to her pretty little head, and warped her perception of life. Maybe at one point she had the potential to be deeper than she is but from an outside perspective that potential is long gone. This affluent she-cat now relies on the manipulation of others to handle all her dirty work for her. A notorious flirt, at this point she just can't help herself, complimenting others in hopes that she'll get what she wants just comes as second nature to her. However the most infuriating thing about her is her insatiable desire for all the things she can't have. More specifically the toms she can't have. They say everyone has a type, and hers just so happens to be toms that are already tied down.


Logician [n] : An expert in or student of logic, or reasoning that has been scruitinized and determined valid and rational. To a logician, the physical world has every answer you could ever need. It will give you every solution to every problem you find, if only you study and experiment enough. Charlotte is a logician, something that has been at odds with the very core of her family for a long time. You see, long ago, her bloodline was cursed. Every feline who descended from the lineage would suffer madness or destruction in some shape or another. It was a useful way to describe the madness that lurked under most of their skins, the ways in which so much destruction couldn't simply be coincidence, could it? The curse has been her crucifix, her cross to solve the great mystery of the curse. After all, a logician would not simply accept that magic caused their ruin. No validity test could prove that. As such, it has been Charlotte's mission to understand the curse, to medically intervene to prevent the descent into madness. In her quest for answers, she found psychiatry. The study of the mind, regulated carefully by chemicals that adapt moods. This became a fascination of hers; it was not a curse with its claws at her family's throat; it was a mental illness, one she would study and learn as much about as possible, often through strange experimentations on other cats with similar symptoms. These experiments were not always moral, and they left in her wake a pile of bodies that she will never be able to outrun. They were for a cause though: to save the cats she loves. You see, at the core of the feline is a savior complex, one that drives almost everything she does. However, perhaps that's getting a little ahead. After all, the Charlotte of today did not appear out of a vaccuum, nor should it be a surprise that she ended up this way. To fully understand Charlotte's past, it is first important to understand her parents. Safiya and Avi, young and in love, stars never meant to be in the same sky. Safiya, daugter of Severine E'tani, the Nemesis, and Alistair, the Warden. Beautiful Safi, a sweet soul who was born of the blood of kings. Avi, a tom known by no one, who once lived in an actual dumpster. A queen and a peasant, from two different worlds. Out of the collide of worlds came a litter of kittens, born when Safiya was far too young to be a mother. Avi and Safi, after all, were only trainees. Yet, the love they had for their kittens was divine; despite their own youth, the family was strong and loving. There were four in the litter: Avery, Fitzrovia, Louisa and herself. They were happy children; they loved each other and their life was relatively drama free, apart from an accident that left her partially blind, at least until their father's execution. You see, despite Safi and Avi falling deeply in love, the queen's family was not impressed with the suitor being born of low-blood. Avi was killed by her uncle, Daireanne, under the supposed order of her grandmother. Grief consumed her mother, and blood continued to reign from the family as Safiya murdered her mother in an act of desperate revenge for her fallen beloved. Too soon after, Safiya realized it would never be safe for her in Primal Instinct, and the she-cat elected to leave herself. By this time, her kits were old enough to survive alone, and they became even more inseparable. This was particularly true of Charlotte and her sister, Louisa. The two were as thick as thieves; there was seldom a time where one was more than a few steps from the other. This meant that when Louisa began to show symptoms of the curse, Charlotte was the first one to know. A gentle soul, Charlotte did everything in her power to save her sister, the origins of the savior complex that would grow to be her own ruins. Yet, it was not enough. Nothing she could do was enough, and her sister faded before her eyes into an untimely death. Filled with shame and guilt that there was nothing that she could do to prevent her sister's demise, Charlotte fled the League in search of answers. She needed to know how she could have saved Louisa. She needed to know how she could save anyone else. It was this period of time that hardened her; she had 'seen' firsthand the cruelty of the world, and it morphed her from sweet, innocent child to a more steely, guarded adult, one that asks questions of every thing. She feels that she must learn it all; this desire for education is a compulsion. After all, she didn't know the answer to how to fix things once, and it led to her best friend's death. She will never let that happen again. However, it is important to understand that Charlotte's savior complex is not extended universally. She sees value in some cats, and those cats she feels are worthy of being saved. Those are the cats that she will lay down her life for, that she will do anything in her power to save. She has witnessed so much loss of cats she believes should have been saved, and as such, if you meet her expectations, you will have her resolute and unending loyalty. A cat like Charlotte is not the worst to have on your side, either, as her determination to solve every problem combined with her more than astute mind makes her a mental power player, one who will walk to the ends of the earth to ensure you are okay. Anyone else, in her mind, is expendable. It is unclear where the division of worthy and unworthy lies, although it is that division that has cost the lives of many. You see, if you are unlucky enough to be considered less than desirable to the she-cat, you will suffer the same fate as her father, the tom who her family first decided was undesirable. She has long stopped counting the number of cats who did not survive her experimentation; the lives burnt to ash under her paws were those of cats who did not matter enough to survive. To them, she almost considers her actions favors; after all, she is saving them from an existence of mediocrity and disappointment. Because her thinking is rather black-and-white, she ensures that she has a logical reasoning behind every cat she finds expendable, although this logic is shared with few. On the surface, though, she is a ... decent enough cat. More jaded than your average cat, maybe, but not outwardly cruel. In fact, if you catch her in a good mood, hints of the young, energetic, kind child she once was can push through the cracks and make an appearance. Forever dedicated to her work, Charlotte appreciates the company of anyone who is willing to question the world with her. She enjoys a challenge, or really anything that allows her to avoid the fact that burbling beneath her skin, she can slowly feel the madness start to take in.






a small group of cats chosen from the hunters. they train under the assassin, the warden and sometimes the proxies in assassination and defending the nemesis. the next assassin is chosen from their ranks, and some other positions like to look to them for replacements as well



12+ Moon Old Cats. They are each assigned or join a district and serve under that proxy. Each district specializes in different things. There are no elders in Primal Instinct, so you will stay in this division until you get a promotion or you die.

One eye neon green, the other a coalesce of baby blue, black, violet and burnished copper. A dramatic line divides her face half black, half ginger, brought together by a white chin and chest. Despite being a long-furred tortoiseshell, her strokes of color are beautifully defined, flames licking the night sky. Something about her presence screams otherworldly and ethereal, especially when with her identical quadruplet brothers. It’s a little easier to tell Acacia apart from the rest of them, though. She identifies as female and the way she presents herself leaves little room to doubt her gender. However, should someone mistake her as a tom, or say anything about her that she doesn't agree with, she always takes it personally. Acacia is a lot stronger than she used to be but she is still extremely sensitive to what others think of her. Some days she will shut down but, just as likely, she will lash out. Her blood is an unholy mixture of demon, ghost and feline, after all. Darkness runs through her veins and, sweet as she is, Acacia Blair has a surprisingly short threshold before she snaps. Some say it’s almost like she becomes a completely different cat...

A bright white tomcat with midnight blue eyes. Arrogant and showy, he is quite clearly a tom with more attitude than skill, always willing to show off and do daring stunts, usually with a high degree of failure. And yet, he always seems to make it out unscathed, much to his groupmates' dismay. He is incredibly agile and witty, but often tries to force himself into situations that he is not meant for, such as fighting large predators, or pushing himself beyond exhaustion, all the while boasting his skill in those areas. Despite this, he is incredibly family oriented, and absolutely adores younglings. He hopes for a family one day, and most hope it mellows out his wild side.

The shield. A name more befitting of someone with a larger stature, one meant to impose fear and intimidate. With just a single glance, it seems that this cat was completely misnamed. Rather small in size, Aegis is not the typical towering figure that anyone would expect from one named after a shield, nor does she carry the bulk. As a rather petite, mostly orange and black calico, she is easily overlooked. Don’t be fooled, however, as there is muscle hidden within this small frame. What she lacks in her stature, she makes up for in other ways. Quick in both movement and mind, she can deliver powerful blows in the blink of an eye, while studying her opponent to decide just where the hit should make contact. She may not be the best at overall strategy, but thinking on her feet with split-second decisions is where her talents lie. If you were to meet her piercing yellow gaze, you could tell that this is a she-cat that you should be wary of. Aegis strives to live up to her name, and if she can’t match it in appearance, then she will do her best to be a protector. If the scars buried within her pelt are anything to go by, she’s taken attacks meant for her League mates more than once. While her trust is something that isn’t handed out often, she would still do anything for the cats of Primal Instinct. Her own fate and body doesn’t matter, and although she would rather not sacrifice herself and find an alternative route to save someone, if it came down to it, she would still do it. Her methods tend to be rather reckless at times, as if she was acting more on impulse than her quick mind, and perhaps she is. Still, she gets the job done. Don’t misunderstand her protectiveness as kindness, as she is still a cat of Primal Instinct, after all. She has been through much in her never-ending fight for survival, with many events shaping and hardening her heart. There is a reason why her trust doesn’t come naturally, but if anyone dared to break through to her, they would find a completely different cat on the inside.

The least known sister of the litter, but the most eccentric and mysterious. Cats are attracted to her like moths to a flame, though most never seem to be able to remember from day to day, forgetting her existence entirely once she's out of sight. And that's exactly how she wants it. Silvery-white, with enchanting lines written across her face, framing around beautiful, soft periwinkle eyes, she is a beautiful feline, and yet, no matter what seems to happen, she slips the mind of all who know her, coming and going like misty mornings, a face to be seen, but not recognized. And that is what makes her ideal for her job. She could stand in plain sight, and no one would be any wiser to her presence, continuing on as if she were a mere ghost. She sees this as some sort of power of hers, bestowed by the same underworld creatures who sent Senescence, whom she believes to be a demon, to save her and her siblings from their mother. It is largely for this reason that she does not fear the ghosts, the crypt demon, or any mortal being. Agamede has seen the truly terrifying, the beasts that are allowed to freely roam the world, and it helped her. So what has she to fear from anyone else?

Black panther like pelt with a snow leopard print from her chest fluffing up to her shoulders like a big fur scarf. She has gorgeous frosted green eyes like her mother. She looks even more like her sister Monique. They could each commit a crime, but no one would know which one did it. Despite the beautifully sleek fur and lean, toned body that just screams royalty, Alexandria is a rare breed who seems to fade into the background with nothing more than a secretive smile, only for a cat to wind up dead. Subtle are her methods, sneaking and poison, her Shaman blood sparking curiosity in things more than the ways of claws and tongue. She, more than many others, is not the cat to cross. No, she won't confront you directly, humiliate you in front of your peers, but she will slowly leech the life from you and your loved ones, forcing you to watch everything fall around you before you yourself succumb to the void, only to disappear without a trace, not even allowing such satisfaction as knowing your killer will be brought to light. Quiet, relatively respectful, and seemingly obedient, Alexandria may seem a touch out of place among the rough characters she grew up with, but inside, there's that same, endless darkness just waiting to be unleashed on the world.

There are only two places, first place and no place. Everyone remembers the first nemesis of Primal Instinct, but what about the second? The third? Everyone remembers the first, but only the second remembers the second. Bermondsey, the second born of Severine E'tani's second litter, could attest to that. A thin grey tom with almost feminine features, and a wide-eyed bright green gaze, he doesn't really look all too dangerous. He's tall, yes, but too willowy to be much of a powerhouse. He's not much of a flirt like his father either, and not necessarily handsome enough to break hearts at ease. The androgynous look doesn't always suit everyone after all. However, much like his father Alistair before he went mad, he prizes the gifts of his mind rather than his athletic prowess. Rather stern and aloof most of the time, he compartmentalizes his feelings rather well, separating emotions from his own sense of twisted logic. He doesn't form too many attachments. He has a knack for being rather blunt and to the point, rarely disguising or flowering his words to make them nicer or more socially appropriate. He often enjoys employing sarcastic quips and little teasing smirks as well, something he inherited from his father. Being second made him rather unimportant in the family hierarchy, but for him, it's both a blessing and a curse. He learned to slip through the cracks, to listen, and to not be seen. However, don't count him out of the race. The small grey tom might not seem dangerous, but you better not judge this book by its cover.

A cream non-binary cat with light gray spots and ocean blue eyes. They love to go on adventures and will force their league mates to join them no matter how dangerous they can be. They are very friendly and warm up to strangers easily. But one can be easily fool by their friendly nature, because they will break your arm if you ask them a dumb questios. They get rather annoyed when others shorten their name to Blush and correctly them quickly that its BLUSHING! They have a weird obsession of wanting to hear funk sing so they constantly pester him about it.

Cloaked in black pinstripes with a silver base, where most cats are pink she is black or gray, giving her a sinister, undead quality. Tufts of black fur edge the tip of each ear but otherwise her fur is short and coarse like the pelt of a dog. She has an athletic build but is oddly proportioned: her back is too flat, her legs and tail too long. Her most dramatic feature is her hawk yellow eyes, loud and distracting like twin bolts of lighting, and just as likely to paralyze. Enchanting and sly, Circe is a cat with many toms surrounding her, most of whom seem to disappear without any warning, only for an animal of some sort to show up in their place. Rumor has it she turns her enemies, and any cat who offends her, into the animals that she appears to have tamed. She carries around a small stick, which cats presume is the source of her supposed 'powers.' When asked directly about the fates of "boyfriends" she usually just smirks and says something cryptic, like "I tend not to look back. It’s confusing." Circe is not known for cruelty but neither is she known for kindness. A cat with no conscience, she recognizes suffering but makes no effort to end it. She lives her life by a mysterious code that not even those closest to her understand.

Has a brown body with a golden face, ear, legs, and tail with bluebell colored eyes. Delgado is very serious, he has an easy time criticizing others for their shortcomings because he is as harsh on them as he is to himself. Delgado doesn’t take failure well to the point that he doesn’t like to try new things, he enjoys sticking with what he already knows. Since the moment he was able to become a trainee all he’s known is how to hunt and kill for Innocentia, it’s what he sticks with to the point that he chose punishment district even though he’s not very fond of Innocentia and her childish nature. But once again, torment, killing, hunting, it’s what he knows, he didn’t want to stray far from it. Delgado is the gentlemen of his family and keeps up his good manners even towards prisoners. This does not stop him from doing his job to torment them though, in fact he is often quite lethal, but it won’t stop him from apologizing for the discomfort. His polite tone makes it easy for him to be alluring one moment and frightening the next thanks to his killer instincts.

The palest cream-white color cloaks her snow lynx bengal frame, ethereal and alluring, glittered fur shimmering like snow on a moonlit winter night. Vaguely darker spots the color of light sepia splash across her fur, turned to bronze by the light catching nature of her fur that persists even in the most complete darkness. Her eyes, in contrast, are dark and mysterious, midnight blue frosted at their core and cracked through with pale silver like broken black ice. She is a vamp sort of cat, with fangs just a touch too long, with a snake earring coiled down one of her ears and an attitude that turns toms and she-cat's alike to putty in her silk touched paws. She is wild and free like a song, full of intoxicating thrill that is sure to get your blood pumping, and a heart colder than anything you've ever seen. Unabashedly confident, and blatantly flirtatious, she drags cats in before they ever truly know they've fallen. She is beauty, she is grace, and she is the first cat who will leave you lying dead in a ditch, the transition so quick it would make your head spin. Every cat she has is her true love, and every death is love forgotten, for they fall hard and fast for her, yet she couldn't care less. It bothers her some, to be incapable of feeling romantic love in that way, at least thus far in her life. Like something is missing. But it's a thought fleeting and kept to herself, filled with flings and dance and death in it's place.

Her fur has captured the appearance and mien of smoke itself, its tendrils moving and curling as if in an unfelt wind. The sands of innocence were corrupted in her long ago, though a prismatic fire has preserved itself in her soul. Eyes, blue glass that shines beneath a canopy of black lashes. Her tear blood runs through twin peaks of cheekbones. A slender pillar of a neck – magnet of eroticism, blinding the veins gorging on flesh, dancing under pulse of blood – or whatever strange liquid flows inside. Her voice is as sweet as birdsong, projecting words as sharp as a whip.

Albino she-cat with lavender eyes. She would openly fight you regardless if the other cat is much larger. While she would willing to fights other she can get anxious in social situations so tends to avoid them. She can be forgiving to others no matter how much they mess up. She is allergic to catmint a discovery she uncovered when she was a lot younger. She is very nerdy and can name of random facts about a wides range of subjects. She often suffers from colds and cures it with her favorite snack of mac and cheese. Which she finds in Twoleg dumpsters.

RPED BY ASHESTOASHES || INTERNAL AFFAIRS An orange tabby cat that has white across his muzzle, throat, chest and stomach with dark orange eyes. The tom doesn't try to find trouble but trouble tends to find him instead, and it doesn't help that he has a sharp tongue and a fiery temper too. Alone in this world he was the only surviving kit born to his parents who would later be killed protecting their young one from savage dogs. It's hard to say what he is thinking most of the time but usually tries to do the best he can in any situation he is put in. Perhaps it is because he was left alone in the world but when he makes a relationship with a cat (may it be friend or mate) he is extremely protective and loyal to them, even going as far as taking on bigger foes and backing them up in situations (even if they were wrong about something.) Simply put you would rather be his friend than his foe, for if he has to he will put you down.

Bloodlines forgotten and lost to time. The blood of clans that have fallen and faded away like dust on the breeze. The frosted blue gaze shifting from the darkness of the sea to the light of a glacier. In the center fading in a pale copper ring near her pupil. A pale pink heart shaped nose is one of her defining features on her feminine pointed face. Her face, body, limbs and long tail are decorated in shaggy fur giving her the appearance of a battle worn soldier. Her fur is ice dipped in fiery swirls. Faded ginger marking on her face and limbs looking like war paint. Her frame is slender, tall standing upon long legs like the Savannah blood of the Crowclan Leaders that hum through her heritage. She is the last remaining descendant of Metra E’tani the founder of Primal Instinct. A fact that isn’t well known and one that she keeps mainly to herself. Along with her grandmother Metra, the blood of many great Nemesis roar through her veins. Many of her relatives have held high ranking officials within the League holding Shaman, Mage, Warden,Deacon, Proxy, and Assassin Positions. She was born in the League to a single mother. Her father had died before she was born. Her time in the League was short lived, because she was forced to grow up as a rogue most of her young adult life. Being a rogue taught her many lessons. How to become a nameless face that could disappear in the night. It also taught her how to be a survivor. How to play the game of life to ensure her survival. Something she has been running from since her birthday. The death of her siblings, parents and many family members weigh on her shoulders. She is the fiery shadow that walks the empty alleyways. Demanding respect from rogues that’s question her and the ones that she took in as small kittens. Giving them a life and a way to survive. She is an actor and her life is the stage. She takes pride in her performance and will put on as many masks to manipulate others to ensure her survival. She is selfish and doesn’t seem to care about others unless it is for her own personal gain. The only ones that seem to steal her heart are her precious hounds. Young kittens she snatched out of their beds and away from their mothers. Ones hand chosen by her and hand raised by her in an abandoned junkyard. She is the master of these many hounds. Convincing them to go her bidding and in turn she gives them an equal reward. A home, food, a life worth living then their horrid backstories.

Pale as a ghost with dark rings under his eyes — Jezi’s quirky young son is quiet when lanky like his father. His thin white coat is patchy from his constantly itching, a nervous tick, an absent gesture, and a habitual need to scrape away the grime from his pelt and pull the bugs out from his skin. When he was a young trainee he wandered alone as a rogue and contracted a terrible case of ticks, and even moons later he still obsessively checks his ears and grooms his coat for any signs of the tiny parasites. He couldn't bear to continue living alone with a group, so he returned to the League, but he has never tried very hard to fit in with the mad monsters that live there and he's always ready to run. He has few attachments and no possessions, a drifter at heart, and he has a feeling some of his fellow hunters might turn on him when they discover his distaste for unnecessary death and blood. Lyn often finds it easy to keep other cats away: they get annoyed by his scratching, but his fleeting attention, by his vehement rejections of physical contact. He isn't even close with his siblings - Magnolia, Cason, and Haisley - or parents - Jezebelle and Akatosh - anymore, and he only spends as much time with them as necessary to retain the protection of Foxbane.

"Hide your soul out of reach," his mother would speak kindly, looking at his wide blue eyes, brushing her tongue over his tussled silver fur, "for the Sluagh will steal you away." Growing up hungry changes someone. He had been an older litter than his sister Rhiannon; her gilded idea of their childhood was not shared by him. Their mother was sickly, their father was aggressive. He was a cat who did everything a little too quickly. He grew up too fast, he learned the tricks of the trade as soon as he could, he had a natural gift for hunting and fighting. It helped him; he wouldn't have made it on his own after leaving their home so young, and with his sister in tow. His past has clouded his eyes and buried his heart; he wears a jaded smile and has little care for the world. While his sister seeks immortality in her own rigid way, he's more laid-back, amused by his sister's antics, though he will do anything for her. One thing he knows is that the nature of the universe is temporal; it's entropy and chaos all wrapped into one, and change is the only thing that's constant. Despite his easy smirk and kind nature, when it comes to things that matter, he's extremely protective. He has little care for most of the world, and he will willingly set it on fire and watch it burn before letting it take away those he loves.

Male. He looks demonic even at the best of times. A blank face that would impress even Senescence with it's lack of expression no matter what's thrown at it, almost as if it were frozen. In creepy contrast, however, his voice is far too heartfelt, as though he wears his heart on his sleeve. It paints a creepy picture, of an expressionless cat giving the most uproarious laughter to ever exist, though this seems to not bother his littermates. He moves like a broken record wearing a necklace of bone-made instruments taken from his victims, and rather enjoys playing for his littermates, or serenading the cats who's future bones are to rest against his chest. A white cat with dark amber eyes, if one was being poetic they could be compared to fire. Adopted child of Funkson/Funk?, adopted grandchild of Foxbane & Funk.

Large yellow tom with white chest and belly and green eyes. He has a fear of falling in love again, because every single serious relationship he's been in has failed. Rather lazy tom who can sleep through almost anything. Has a random fear of fire even though he has never seen any. Unable to have his own children, but wishes to adopt a whole army of kittens.

A chameleon who made a deal with the devil that led to a transformation that brought her to Primal Instinct. She'd tell you it was all by chance that the winds of transformation brought her sister and her to the League, but she'd only tell you that because she likes to tell cats what they like to hear. This amuses her, as her personality shape-shifting allows her to enter the minds of those around her, metaphorically speaking. She makes you want to do things, things you wouldn't have otherwise even thought of. She's inspires you to change, for better or for worse, to meet her needs. In that way, she is almost hypnotic. She can bend others to her will, and she knows how to get what she pleases without keeping her own claws sharp. Smart cats that know whats best for them tend to avoid her. They are wise enough to break free of her enchantment. She finds these cats boring, but the shifty feline cannot have it all, can she? Luckily for her, she lives in a world of fools, and more cats than not step just a little too close to the fire of transformation that is Niamh. A chaotic type, she always has her paws in the pot, but she'll never be found in the kitchen the moment the floodwaters come. Niamh is the sister to Verne, and the only feline that truly understands the amber eyed calico is the other feline who shared her origin story. She would die for her sister, which leaves her always at Verne's beck and call. Some days, this is a good thing. Others, well, let's just say Niamh's love of chaos pairs nicely with her sister's unique charm.

A quiet beautiful bangal she cat with yellow green eyes she is quick on her feet like the natural hunter she is with the agility to match. An introvert the bangal tends to keep to herself, but can be social when needed. Even during social gatherings she doesn't talk much due to her embarrassing stutter (which she tries to keep secret.) Maybe it due to being quiet most of the time but Orion tends to be a good listener as well as observant to the environment around her. Just as in hunting she is equally ruthless when it comes to fighting and war, doing whatever it takes to win.

A patched tabby she-cat with bright copper eyes. If you had nightmares of impending doom, what would you do? Would you give up, succumbing to the painful visions, or would you rise up to change the future, to prevent what you see at all costs? Pandora is a strong cat, quick witted and merciless, but at night, she is plagued by never ending nightmares that target her deepest insecurities and worries. She dreams of Primal Instinct demise, of the death of everything and everyone she loves at the paws of some nameless cat or group, and always, she is powerless to stop it. So she trains and trains and trains to avoid it. If a cat is so weak that they can't save themselves, then they were never meant to be part of Primal Instinct.

There is perhaps no cat more self centered, or self-serving than Paramore. All her life she has been complimented on her stunning appearance which without a doubt has gone to her pretty little head, and warped her perception of life. Maybe at one point she had the potential to be deeper than she is but from an outside perspective that potential is long gone. This affluent she-cat now relies on the manipulation of others to handle all her dirty work for her. A notorious flirt, at this point she just can't help herself, complimenting others in hopes that she'll get what she wants just comes as second nature to her. However the most infuriating thing about her is her insatiable desire for all the things she can't have. More specifically the toms she can't have. They say everyone has a type, and hers just so happens to be toms that are already tied down.

The first thing most cats notice about Reynardine is her eyes. Each of them is split down the middle, half blue and half green. The rest of her mid-sized frame is covered in stark white fur, with pale ears and a pale pink nose. There isn't much else to notice about her at first- she seems to listen more than speak, take in more than let out. Reynardine has been in the League for some time, though most cats know nothing about her or her past, as she tends to hold that information close to her chest. Still, this ghostly feline seems to know things others don't- perhaps it's divine knowledge, perhaps it's her tendency to overhear information and store it away for future use. For a cat in Primal Instinct, she's oddly mild-mannered- slow to react or be riled up. Oftentimes she can seem eerie or otherworldly, and her split eyes can make grown cats sweat out their secrets.

From the moment he was born, he was marked for death. Reznor was given a white ribbon and told that his life would only last twenty moons. He would die when he became an adult, while his siblings would be able to live. How was that fair? Reznor knows he only has 20 moons to get rid of his white ribbon, and he isn't going to wait around for death. He's a social chameleon, able to play the part from the naïve young kittypet to the intimidating rogue, disguising his roots and doing whatever it takes to blend in. He wants to have flings and have as many kits as possible that he can then donate to Innocentia in his place. As long as it isn't him, he doesn't care! Reznor might carry himself with an intimidating attitude and a threatening glint in his eyes, but he is easily startled. Someone calling out his name unexpectedly, feeling tapped on the shoulder, he’s always ready to meet his end. He can feel it looming on the horizon, and he isn't prepared to face it. Reznor is a blue-grey tom with bright blue eyes, born to Mistyrose and Sparrowflight.

––that whoever believes shall not perish, but have eternal life," were the words that inspired Rhiannon from a young age. She had been born small, on the eve of Samhain. Only witches' cats were born on such a cursed day, the others from her hometown believed. Hailing from the land of druids and loch monsters, her looks reflect that, with the wide-set ears, silver eyes and dark markings upon her ruddy tabby face, almost similar to a Scottish wild cat, Rhiannon has traveled far. Her early days were spent as a village cat, an omen amongst those who believed in the philosopher's stone. It was a cozy life despite them begging for scraps. When her mother died an untimely death, her father turned against her, claiming she had been the omen of death that had wrought disaster upon them all. It was her brother that stole her away in the night lest their father's teeth grew hungry for blood. Practically raised by her brother, it's been the two of them against the world since, searching for what they believe is the source of immortality, as their village legend once told. Clever–conniving at times–she knows what she wants and she's willing to play the long game. After all, she intends to live forever, or she'll die trying, and she won't die for anything less than that.

Handsome, Regin, Sparrowflight, Jackdaw — he’s gone by so many names he doesn’t care what you call him, as long as it isn’t “Dad.” All he really wants is to relax with Misty Rose to sleep and eat the day away, but alas this prison is not as comfortable as the one he’s used to. He lost his sanity long ago, and with it went his good heart. He is not cruel or cold, and many cats can’t tell he’s different at all, other than his strange personality, but all of the potential of his youth was gone in an instant and it left him an entirely different cat. Sparrowflight is no longer optimistic or playful, isn’t determined to serve his clan or even particularly loyal; he’s got a grim sense of humor, is extremely laid back, and almost callous to the suffering of others. He doesn’t intend to hurt anyone else and is a poor, though scrappy, fighter; he doesn’t do harm to cats, he merely doesn’t care much about preventing it either. He used to be of SpringClan, son of the leader and apprentice of the deputy, until his audacity led him to Toxicity and Chief Ozora took it all from him. He was half-dead when WinterClan found him, held him prisoner until he forgot himself and his mind broke. Lovers cane and went until a guard fell into prison beside him and became his mate, then a healer, and he was dragged out of prison and given a home until they fled to SunClan under the names of Hottie and Handsome. When that clan started to fracture as well, they were caught and taken to the League. Sparrowflight tends to go with the flow of what Mistyrose wants and he's learned not to question her. It's better that way for the both of them.

Fluffy grey and white she cat with brilliant bright peridot colored eyes. This gal has always had luck on her side in one way or another. She was abandoned at birth but was found by a kindhearted stray who raised her as his own. Well kindhearted to her, anyone else he was ruthless and unforgiving, but she never saw that side to him. He taught her everything he knew and both lived together happily until he passed away in his sleep. Trish ventured out on her own living up to many adventures, escaping many unbelievable situations. Her biggest adventure came from a one night stand that lead to her becoming pregnant. Unsure of where to go she came across the then warden of Primal Instinct Regulus. Trish charmed Regulus with her personality and was convinced to join PI with her kits that would soon be on their way. Trish is a sassy feline who doesn't hold back with what she says. She does what she has to in order to survive even if it resorts to stealing and death. It's not that she isn't nice, on the contrary she is, but its a dog eat dog world out there where you got to do what you got to do in order to live to see the next day.

A snow bengal with ice blue eyes, there isn't much known about this quiet she-cat. No songs are sung and no stories are whispered of her beginning. None remember a time when she wasn't there in the shadows, ever watching, like a dark guardian, descending on high upon those who'd dare lay a claw or fang on those she called her wards. All that is known is that she is the Watcher. It seems the very task of ensuring and safekeeping the livelihood and existence of her kin was placed upon her back by some unseen entity. Whatever the truth may be, it will not be revealed to any measly passerby or curious soul. Only those who see her for who she is, not what she was born to or what path lay ahead of her, may be granted the tale.

If fools run in where angels fear to tread, then Verne is the greatest fool of all. Reckless to a fault with a bravery few can match, she's constantly waiting for a 'dare you' to jump into the unknown. A scrappy little cat, her long furs carry the strange scent of a foreigner. This calico–with her ginger and tabby grey fur–came from the loch where Herne once hunted with her sister, Niamh. Before arriving here, she had lived many lives, from sailing the seas upon a ship to wandering the forests where they once said monsters roamed. Verne has an imagination that she constantly finds herself wading through, a deep ocean of thoughts and ideas and possible futures that sometimes cloud her vision of reality. While she never hesitates to rise up to any challenge, she also rarely thinks of ulterior motives. Her golden eyes only shine with truth, however blunt it may be. She's not the manipulative type–too bad at lying to do that, her sister would say–but she's willing to go to lengths to get what she wants. Still, that doesn't make her all friendly and innocent. They say she and her sister left their birth village because they made a deal with the devil. Even now, no one really knows their story, only bits and pieces of it, and she's happy to keep it that way. She's constantly on the edge of the unknown, staring out into a world, ready to begin. The mountains ahead may be the challenges to come, but she's ready to take the very first step. Character created by Achromatic, played by bauble.

Viatrix has a thick cloudy blue-gray tail decorated in tiny pink ribbons and a blue-gray body with sky blue eyes. Innocentia feeds Viatrix a false narrative that her mother, Mistyrose, abandoned her in the city when in actuality Mistyrose was trying to hide Viatrix from Innocentia. Of course, Viatrix was soon discovered, and instead ended up raised by Innocentira and her partner, Senescence. At first Innocentia had plans to eat Viatrix, but she was just too cute! From her thick, downy-soft WinterClan pelt to her tendency to cross her front paws any time she lays down, Viatrix is pretty as a picture, adorable enough to soften the hardest of hearts which, for the record, she did. This she-cat loves to dress herself up in ribbons and put different things in her curly tail. She’s spoiled rotten and doesn’t compromise with anyone. She has a personality that pushes others away by always feeling she’s right all the time. However, she’s always quick to back down to her moms, probably the only people she’s grateful towards for giving her so many luxuries. Despite her off-putting personality, Viatrix has every desire to be well liked and always tries hard to improve herself even if it’s uncomfortable for her.


6 to 11 moon old cats. Assuming they survive the berry test for promotion, each trainee will choose a district to swear their life to. Unlike other clans that have 1 on 1 training, a whole district takes on their training as a whole.

First born into importance, this tom has never let his confidence waver. He learned to have a quick tongue from his father, the Ambassador Proxy. and gained a great facade from his mother, the Shaman. Appearing to be caring, to his clanmates, his siblings, even those above him, all while simply enjoying the highlife of his families' positions. Due to his temperament this large tom suffers from a lack of tact, appearing at some times flat out rude and feral, but with his training, manages to cover himself quite often. Ever popular with the she-cats, he dons a coat of black from above, and snow white below, as if dunked into the cold material at birth. He has honey eyes, sweet to stare into as long as you dont mind the harshness underneath. This is a cat that plays by his own rules, and has been since birth, and he always has to come out on top.

Ex leader of the ragtag gang the Lost Boys Finnbar is a silver tabby tom with green eyes. He made the gang with other young adolescence near his age so that everyone could survive the rough lifestyle of the city. He didn't care where they came from or what their backgrounds were...together they would survive. As fate would have it they came across the then warden of The League Regulus and took up his offer to join them. Finnbar has a natural ability to give directions to others but has a tendency to come across as bossy to others that distrusts him. He truly has an issue with others that disobey what he asks or demands. This tom is a good looking individual who has a picky taste in wanting a mate but loves a good fling. He also has a fear of dogs and cannot for the life of him catch his damn tail.

Bangel tabby mix tom yellow green eyes. He is quick to follow Finnbar's lead and is his right hand man. He's had a rather quick reaction time. His back right hind paw is slightly twist due to unknown reasons. But he is determined to not allow it to slow him down. He tends to get himself in sticky situations and comes up with creative solutions to get himself out of them. He absolutely hates the water since he cannot swim and refuses to learn how. He is very afraid of drowning he is also afraid of fish because they freak him out. While he can be a smooth talker some of the time he gets tongue twisted when talking to a she cat he actually likes. Very much a cinnamon roll but refuses to admit it.

A daughter of notable lineage, her father is Deal, a former leader and forest playboy, her mother Disco, the sister of Funk E’tan. Unfortunately neither parent seemed to care particularly about the kits and they were dumped on their Uncle Funk. Disco carried so little the kits were not even given real names, hers was Third Wall. That name was just dreadfully boring so she renamed herself Psychedelia, or Delia for everyday use. She is a pretty creamy white she-cat with sepia, auburn, and black markings. The sepia and black markings are arranged in tabby markings along her legs, face, and tail. While auburn rosettes cover her sides fading into stripes along the edge. Her eyes are pale blue ringed in white. Her coat is short, sleek, and has that Bengal glitter. Delia is a powerful cat with a knowledge of poisons, courtesy her uncle. She looks up to the tom, thrilled to learn from him. Of course he has to be pestered to do so. Yet there is a certain air of childlike curiosity to Delia that never seems to fade, even as she continues to learn more and more.

If survival was based on luck, Rami would never die. Born and forced to fight for his life every day in the city, the story of how he came to join Primal Instinct changed depending on just whose heart he’s trying to woo this time. He may claim that he got this far out of pure skill, but it’s much more likely that he charmed his way out of most situations - and ran when that failed. Flirtatious is one way to put this tom’s nature, as there are few things better to him than good music and love. Unfortunately, love always tends to escape him, as his heart is always changing. Who he claims to love one day won’t always be who he loves the next, so it’s a good thing that he’s fast enough to run from the angry cats he leaves in his wake. Surprisingly, he’s good at getting out of most situations on his own, which is rather useful as Rami is quite the troublemaker, although he never intends to be. Suave as he may be, he is just as dramatic. Everything that happens has got to be a story to tell, and he tends to over-exaggerate his feelings sometimes. With his chocolate point siamese fur and brilliant blue eyes, he’s not hard to look at, perhaps a contributing factor to how he’s able to get away with so much. Despite his way with love, he is still a very loyal friend. He can normally be found hanging around others, whether they want him to or not, because deep down, Rami is truly just afraid of being alone. At least he will always have music.

A blue lynx point tomcat with gentle icy blue eyes. Careless and free, he is a cat of the shadow, one who would rob you blind and then turn around and try to sell your things back to you. Everything is a game, and he always has a plan, risks are nothing to him, and all he wants is to have fun and amass trinkets he finds beautiful. Unfortunately, cats aren't usually so kind as to just give him what he wants, so he usually resorts to stealing, especially from kittypets and their twolegs, the former usually not have the skills to fight back. As such, the tom very often can be found wearing various twoleg or kittypet items. A studded color or ruby ring, a bright purple scarf and little kitten mittens. Some cats make fun of him for it, or believe that eventually karma will come for him, but he doesn't really care. Instead he simply lives in the moment, enjoying the fruits of his labor and ignoring all consequences to come his way.

Found in the territory of one of the most inhospitable groups, this cat has always been seen as odd. With a tortoiseshell coat and odd coloured eyes, Sage had no lack of troubles finding his place amoung the cats of Primal Instinct as he grew up. Though he took to the cat that found him, Regulus, the second in command at the time, and he found peace in the older toms presence, the desire to prove himself to him was what drove him, growing into a fine hunter. He struggles still though forming connections, always on the edge with fear that he would be judged, but he does crave the closeness of other cats, and in his free time works on forming relationships with those around him.

An auburn and white mask and mantle she-cat with bright dusty moss colored eyes. Lines race across her fur, starting sepia at the spine and bleeding down until it turns to black stripes where the fur changes to white. She is the daughter of Deal and Disco, but was dumped on Funk with the rest of her siblings. Originally named Sixth Wall in a manner similar to the rest of her litter, Six usually shortens her own name out of laziness. A straight-forward, mild-mannered she-cat, Six is content to live life in the slow lane and often goes days barely moving under the pretense of "conserving energy". Perpetually lethargic, Six can usually be found half-asleep in her nest. Her favourite hobby is trying to make people yawn.


0 - 6 moon old cats. The kit equivalents.

Arwen is an unexpectedly helpful she-cat. Loud and boisterous, she can make a grim day a little more bearable. She is very strong for her size and is good at helping others with strength related tasks. This calico can be a little bit of a show off and competitive. Anything you can do she can do better is her claim and she'll prove it. A jack of all trades, she often feels out of place but that does not deter her for making a home for herself. There are three things she hates most - showing weakness, showing pain, and flowers. This six-toed she-cat depises flowers. Give her a flower and you'll find her claws in your pelt. Give her a snake and she'll run into the bushes. She had a close encounter with a snake once and has never taken a chance since. They're creepy, crawly, and make her sick to her stomach with anxiety and fear. She has a younger brother named Issac who she cares for deeply and would protect with every fiber of her being.

A lengthy she-cat with a blueish gay fur color and a long thick tail with yellow eyes. blind in one eye she is a big ball of attitude who hardly likes anyone. if you are lucky enough to be her friend she will stick by you no matter what. she can be a bit hot headed to ones she does not like. her parents were rouges who disowned her for un-know reasons when she was just a kit so she is now an orphan. nobody knows her true background because she refuses to tell anybody.

A beautiful calico patterned Japanese Bobtail with heterochromia. Luminance was named after Glowstar because she is married to both Funk & Fox. She takes after her adoptive father Michele a bit (who is the adoptive son of Funk) and is a collector. Her collection however involves bugs but in particular butterflies. Does have a problem following directions as she tends to see a million ways to do a task and wants to try them all.

Dedicated, as if his worth was based on how much he could do for his home. He fits in well, with a fancy family name, able to flaunt it about, he seems to have a good bit of popularity, and flourishes with it. Named after his 'grandmother' Foxbane, Renard sports a rich coat of red, with emerald green eyes to match. A purebred, taken from his birth home in exchange for trivial favours, though the somali has found ease in being able to lurk through the shadows of his adoptive inner city home, learning all the history and ins-and-outs that he can under the guidance of those he values.

His name carries the sense of a legacy, Funk the third. He was named after his great-grandfather Funk E’tan and his grandfather Funk or Funkson. Though there is very little that he has to live up too, the only thing his family has done is lead the league. Of course even if there was a huge legacy to live up to Ska would not bother. He prides himself on being an independent thinker and only doing what he wants, how he wants. That does tend to make others avoid working with him as he can be somewhat difficult. But when it comes to having fun he loves up to his great-grandfather. Often he tries to throw parties and other games, probably harming the ruthless image the League has. But Ska really just wants to have fun at almost any cost. He even looks a bit like his Bengal great-grandfather and grandfather, even though his own father was adopted just like he was. His Smokey silver coat is covered in large, marbling rosettes and bold tabby marks on his face. His underside is slightly more creamy, almost a blush color. His eyes are a light lime that stand out on his broad face. Ska is a larger tom, with long well muscled legs. He is a gorgeous specimen and rightly so as he was born as a purebred Bengal kittypet, given to his father Michele in a trade.


In the past, PI has taken numerous prisoners for various reasons. Nowadays, the League doesn't take a lot of prisoners since their focus is on survival. So if you end up here, you're in some deeeeeeeeeeeep trouble. Your cats will also end up here if you forget to reply to the AC