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Renegade Regime
Living in a cold, night hospitable wasteland would chill even the warmest of hearts, and the Regime is no exception to this. Three-fourths of the year, the territory is covered in thick levels of snow, with temperatures even bundled up twolegs couldn’t stand for long, and little to no prey to be found. For the Regiment, shadows, darkness, and frigid nights are a safe haven, their cold land echoing the same cool stoicism they portray to outsiders. Militant and disciplined, they behave as a well oiled machine, achieving survival even in the frozen and rocky wilds through strict regimens and such fine tuned teamwork one might even think that one cat could read the mind of their fellow soldier.

Being as barren as the surface and tunnels can be, the Regime is no place for the faint of heart. Relaxation in any season besides greenleaf is disparaged, and quick paws or quick minds are a necessity if you wish to have your share of prey each day. Those who do not pull their weight don’t last long here, and cats who dare to challenge the status quo are quickly broken down or find themselves facing the frigid wasteland entirely alone.

A fiery tom with vibrant amber eyes. The middle child, and never over looked, like the rest of his family Jagger sticks out. His fur is so bright he can be spotted easily in darkness. Due to this fact Jagger has taken up the habit of rolling in dirt or even mud to dilute the color of his fur. He would love to consider himself a tactical and strategic cat but he isn't. In truth Jagger rushes into everything without fully thinking things through. He is the king of snap decisions, landing him in the most trouble a majority of the time. Strong willed, he can and will do anything he sets his mind to. The problem with that is when he has a goal in mind it's all he can think about until that goal is achieved. The loudest of his siblings, in terms of voice, he makes himself heard simply by speaking his mind. Thankfully he knows when to bite his tongue and when to speak up. He can be clever when he wants to be, the hardest part for him however is staying focused.

Pronounced AAn-yuh. For coming from such an unassuming family, everyone will have some opinion of Aine Soothsong. The family was small, preferring jobs like Guider and Auxiliary to the more show stopping ones like Mercenary and Scout. So it wasn't too much of a surprise when one of them finally rose the ranks. The strange thing was that it was Aine. Her coat blends in perfectly with the dark underground, a rich brown like sweet chocolate. But she has the tell tale Siamese traits, with even darker ears, face, paws, and tail, a color that borders between black and brown. Similar to how Aine tiptoes the line between life and death. Compared to most cats, Aine is rather comfortable with death and will encourage everyone to make the most of their life. She accepts death as a natural part of life, and tends to loathe those that try to artificially increase their lifespan. She especially has a hard time holding her tongue regarding the custom of leaders getting lives, finding it disrespectful to those passed. Despite this, she tends to be the one that those on death's door seek out, her rarely seen eloquence coming out as she has a way of comforting those on their way to the other side. She takes her duties very seriously, but this one seems to connect to her in a way she never elaborates on. While she grew up in the Regime, she is familiar with the customs and history of the other clans, so she's never judgmental with her clients. But these are the sides of Aine that she doesn't show very often. Most cats know her as more, off the wall. She's a cheerful and quirky cat, enjoying pranking others and confusing cats with her bizarre ideas. Though she has an odd and morbid sense of humor that tends to polarize those around her. Aine definitely has the energy of a tyke, finding joy in things like playing in the snow or exploring less traversed tunnels. She hates sitting around and doing nothing, taking her own philosophy on living life to the fullest personally. Though she still appears to be all play and no work, seemingly a blasé Guider Superior, she does work hard behind the scenes. Overly eccentric, she seems to appear out of thin air wherever only to disappear in the blink of an eye. Like a flash fire, she ignites those around her. Aine doesn't put up an air, seemingly genuine in everything she does. An indecipherable riddle, those that try to figure her out are left hitting wall after wall. Some have come to accept the lack of an answer, especially her family. It's as natural as being unable to outrun the wind, unable to hold a flame without getting burnt, unable to avoid death. Still, best to be careful around Aine, or she'll end up leading you by the nose.


With a name like Nottingham, it’s not surprising that she is the most odd one out of all the oddballs in the Needletoes family. Her mother and father, Sylvester and Hedwig, thought she was a tom when she was born and had already named her before they figured out otherwise. Nottingham, or affectionately known as Nott (or tunnel goblin), is a raggedy drifter of a cat. She's a scoundrel and doesn't put up with anything. Pirate-y and free-spirited, but also often to herself. She secretly looks up to her brother, Pip, and would do anything for him. Her attitude is indifferent and sometimes selfish, which drives her sister, Isolda, crazy. With constantly dirty black fur, a small stature, and large ears, it didn’t take long for the nickname “Tunnel Goblin” to come about. Honestly, she doesn’t mind it. It helps her avoiding conversation. This was the plan until Shule decided Nott had “potential” and made her scout superior. She wanted to deny the offer but suddenly the thought of making a whole bunch of cats do her dirty work sounded nice. But ugh, if she didn’t have to care for them in the process. Turns out she really does have a heart and has some sort of odd loyalty to her group mates. Therefore, she makes a decent superior and there are several that have come to admire her hunting, tracking, and thieving skills. Even though she’s short and skinny, many have come to respect her and she almost has a little group of bodyguards. This aids in her other side missions of finding and stealing all the treasures of the world…


Nothing can outlast the sands of time, everything will fall to them in the end. Great kingdoms will crumble and dynasties will fall to the corroding nature of time. But there names will be recalled as tales of a past best remembered as cautionary tales. His name is one such name, the name of a tom who ruled the slums of a city he won't ever speak the name of. But time came for him like it comes for all and the foundations of his rule crumbled beneath him and he was left to be forgotten among those same alleyways. Left to make his way in a new life leaving the stories of his rule behind. Here in the Regime he lives a simple life, leaves the ruling to those who have not yet fell to their greed. Has tempered his ambitions and grown complacent and cozy. There are days the brown tabby tom fondly recalls darker days with only the affection those used to the gloom can and yet he is happy that he has now embraced the sun.

He's always been something of a wild child, a playboy, the sort of tom whose loyalty is fickle and his amusement is often found at the expense of others. This does not mean he is cruel, perhaps childish is a better word. For a child never quite understands the hurt they can cause through their little actions and careless words. Henri is the same way; oblivious to the impact he has on others. It makes him poor at diplomacy or politicking, unable to lie or manipulate others. He cannot even school his expression most times and wears his thoughts through his expressions; clear for anyone to see. Perhaps that is why he is so skilled in a fight, with how often he got into scuffles growing up and then as he grew older more serious fights. Ones that often left him baffled at how they began and what he should be doing to avoid them. Never able to quite wrap his head around what he did wrong?



THROUGH THE DARKEST OF AGES & BLACKEST OF PLAGUES + Life asked Death, "Why do people love me but hate you?"
† Take a little walk to the edge of town, go across the tracks where the viaduct looms like a bird of doom as it shifts and cracks. Where secrets lie in the border fires, in the humming wires; hey man, you know, you’re never coming back. Past the square, past the bridge, past the mills, past the stacks. On a gathering storm comes a tall handsome man in a dusty black coat with a red right hand. + For many, the beginning lives at the birth; for one who existed long before the physical world, there is no beginning, just as there is no end. If time is a god that no other can touch, that has no creation date, then Death is time’s brother, as time can always end and by death’s hand. There’s only one on this earth who remembers when he began. That story will not be shared unless imperative to the continuation of the ticking of time. However, there are clues; hidden treasures, forgotten mysteries eroded by decay and neglect. Of these secrets, we can unlock a few key facets of who he was to understand who he is now: He was born to light, only to fall to darkness. Perhaps darkness always lived within him and thrived when he could no longer find a reason to fight. Either way, a procession of events moved quickly after his path was chosen. His family drew away, he found himself alone, and found instead companionship in an unlikely element. Drifting from the light, he found solace in the shadows, only revealing himself from his sanctuary when necessary. There were those who attempted to grow close to him – many who failed, few who succeeded – but it ended the same every time. Heart hardened, a new title was bestowed upon him, one that should have been a blow to his grace, but instead empowered him with what was necessary to take the final leap off the edge of the blade. + He’ll wrap you in his arms, tell you that you've been a good boy. He'll rekindle all the dreams iIt took you a lifetime to destroy. He’ll reach deep into the hole, heal your shrinking soul, but there won't be a single thing that you can do. He's a god, he's a man, he's a ghost, he's a guru. They're whispering his name through this disappearing land, but hidden in his coat is a red right hand. + They say great power comes with great responsibility. While this is true, it is also a truth that with greater darkness comes greater power, as well as a greater struggle to control it. An easy life became one of heartache and strife, yet even so, there was no going back. Imbued with the power to destroy, with the internal desire to create, what resulted was a monstrous concoction that while grotesque, became something he would be truly proud of. It wasn’t long after that he was confronted by the united force of the light; those who saw him as a threat to be eliminated. His death was not a quick one, nor was it painless. By the time he crossed the veil and met the burned world beyond, ash falling from the sky, trees as black as night, no life – spiritual or mortal – in sight, what was once only a hardened heart made of steel became an entity within itself, a roiling mass of shadow and crimson mist that refused to be tortured once more. + You don't have no money? He’ll get you some. You don’t have no car? He'll get you one. You don’t have no self-respect, you feel like an insect, well don't you worry buddy ‘cause here he comes. Through the ghettos and the barrio and the Bowery and the slum. A shadow is cast wherever he stands, stacks of green paper in his red right hand. + Life, if you can call it that, wasn’t easy across the veil. Most, if not all, that reside on this earth believe that once life passes on and death welcomes you with open arms, your troubles are over. For those individuals, that may just be the case. But what if there is no reaper to await you? What if there’s no god of death to guide you through the gate? He was the first to approach that black wrought iron gate and gaze into burning skies. The first to inhabit a home meant for a king. What was a hellscape became a sanctuary for him. Headquarters to retire to when fighting to be free became too tiresome. There, he waited, until the moment everything changed and he found himself a new mission. + You'll see him in your nightmares, you’ll see him in your dreams. He'll appear out of nowhere but he ain't what he seems. You'll see him in your head, on the TV screen, hey buddy, I'm warning you to turn it off. + She was naive and terribly unprepared for the darkness she was about to unleash. She was perfect. At least for what he needed. She was also beautifully easy to throw away. She was desperate, her fear and nerves delicious on his tongue, ready to risk everything to satisfy her attachment issues. Once he was out, away from what had become his home for so long, away from the prison those who still saw him as a threat and tried to keep him contained for so long, things got far more interesting. He was new to this earth, familiar yet strange, old yet changed. It would take time to become accustomed to the sensation enough to begin his work. Thankfully, he had all the time in the world. + He's a ghost, he's a god, he's a man, he's a guru. You're one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan, designed and directed by his red right hand. + What do you see when you close your eyes? Is it dark? Is it light? Do you see the imprint of a face? For those who shied away from what was coming, they all saw the same: a black being encompassed by shadow and silver ornate patterning framing eyes the color of blood. + I’ve never claimed to be a good boy, that lad is long dead, cause I got stuck in the wars, Grace, ones with bullets and ones in my head. But you made it so easy to let go, now I’m all alone and the shots are deafening. + Being reborn is nothing new or special in the world from where he came, but a spirit returning to the world of the living after being locked away so long in the world of the dead is a feat many should worship. At least in his eyes. The form he took wasn’t strong by any means – not in the beginning. It held on, though, as it struggled to find any way to satiate and nourish the pangs of hunger alongside the body of what was the mother. The skittish lamb that got everything she wanted and paid the price for it took him away to be cared for by the father of the litter, of the vessel he took as his own. The father was nothing short of a wicked and inconceivably brutal tom. The longer he was in the care of the tom that would never be seen as father, but rather as Zodiac, tyrant of Genesis, the more his bloodlust grew. Finally taking the life of the one who hardly raised a brow in his direction other than to punish him for work well done was as satisfying as observing rainfall on a starry night. He was strong at that point, capable, and already had a cult following that were willing to risk their very lives for his benefit. It was exactly what he always wanted, but absolutely nothing he truly wished to see. Toms that were forced in the same harrowing predicaments he was, finally free of the villainy, unwilling to let go, desperate to see him as some sort of savior. He removed himself from their grasp before he’d allow himself to ruin them any further; some things you can never forget, and for Cross, there were far too many deeds – in this life and the last – that weighed on his spirit. No matter what world you live or die, there are two constants that sway and swirl with one another: 1) Time is always ticking, 2) Death is always alone. + So I walk with the Devil, my rivals best be careful, cause when you’re already dead there’s no gun at your head, you’re finally free. Death responded, "Because you are a beautiful lie and I am a painful truth."




A white tom with fine-chiseled features capable of cutting glass and accentuated with the occasional lightning bolt of spectral color, all locked together by a set of chilling fluorescent blue eyes that give the impression of being luminescent in the light, this tom is burdened by glorious purpose, as made evident by the excruciating length and nonsensical complexity of his name, lovingly gifted to him by parents that were not long after gruesomely murdered by their own incompetence and the now warlock of WinterClan’s quick trigger ire, no doubt earned.

Being the spitting image of her father, Commander Mars It's only fitting that she would be a total daddy's girl. All she wants in this life is to live her best life, and of course make her father proud. Everything she does is to live up to his legacy while remaining her own person. Never one to crack under pressure, and not one to be crushed by the weight of expectation. There's no angst or struggle to find herself in this world. She knows exactly who she is. From a young age she knew she wanted to be the best spy the regime has ever seen and won't rest until until she has earned her title. She is silly and goofy and isn't afraid to be the comedic relief in tense situations. Selfless when she can manage it. She isn't afraid of showing weakness by being herself, however, she is no fool. She knows trust has to be earned but, you have be willing to give trust to get it. She is an open book to those who choose to read her pages. Nothing that she says is ever a lie. Nasty habit lying, she believes telling the truth is far simpler than getting caught in a web of lies and she isn't exactly fond of spiders. Of course there's two side of every coin and Shae is no exception to this. while she is sweet and caring she can also be quite mean, and sometimes even cold but, only when she's pushed far enough. She strives to be someone she can be proud of when she look at her reflection, and someone she can live with at the end of the day when she curls up in her nest at the end of the day.

“The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.” - Mark Twain
They say the world isn't black nor white, but various shades of gray. For Athalia that isn’t entirely true for her world is a stark white canvas interrupted by the vast array of color that makes up life. Athalia spent most of her life on the outside looking in, not because she is blind but because she isn’t. At least not fully. However, talk about ‘auras’ was never something others were willing to hear so after a time she stopped, instead choosing to embrace her role as the outcast. Now when cats look at her and see only her milky violet eyes. Eyes that seemingly see nothing yet look as though they are staring into your very soul, and they are afraid. Few cats are often brave enough to look past her unsettling appearance and get to know the sweet, soft hearted soul that she really is. Despite her seemingly lonely existence Athalia has managed to stumble her way through life just fine, for no one is ever truly alone. This is a lesson that like most, Athalia had to learn the hard way. The first time she saw him could have been a dream. Gripped tightly by a fever that showed no signs of breaking, lying in her nest she saw him. Nothing more than a hazy silhouette against an otherwise white void. In that moment she knew death had come to claim her, and she was willing. Yet the shadow never stepped beyond the entrance, she watched him for what felt like an eternity until sleep claimed her instead. When she awoke again he was gone. From that day forward there has always been an unexplainable pep in her step. Still usually quiet she has no issues speaking her mind and making herself heard when she needs to. She is gentle and kind but won’t go out of her way to help others unless they specifically ask for it, though she’s the last cat anyone wants to ask for help. She talks of death the way most would talk about an old friend only, further cementing her stange- off putting nature. Not that she minds in the slightest, she likes being seen as odd and gets small delights in startling others. Not that she’d ever admit it with more than the slightest of smiles. The eternal optimist but only on the inside, Athalia always has hope that each day will be better than the day before, rather than dwelling on the past.

The most adorable little thing you ever did see. Small and soft, her long, pure snow-white fur drapes around her like a fluffy cloud. Her fern-green eyes sparkle like emeralds, always warm and playful. The daughter of Venus, sister to Commander Mars, and Fjord, a former Commander himself, she comes from a long line of powerful cats dedicated to the Regime heart and soul. Unfortunately, Laela is bedridden most of the time, having inherited her Grandmother Jasmine’s autoimmune disease rather than a leader's legacy. But while most cats might react to being so weak with frustration or self-pity, Laela has learned from her mother the good that comes from moderation, from temperance. Rather than constantly indulging herself, she takes joy in the little things in life. The smile of a tyke. The contagious and heartfelt joy of laughter. A natural Raiser just like her mother, the highlight of her day comes when she's strong enough to visit Post Kilo and entertain the tykes with various jokes and songs she's learned. Many of her groupmates consider her very childlike in that regard, but what reason does she have to hurry in growing up? She constantly encourages her friends and cheers them on through their hardships, always trying to help them in any way that she can. But more than anything, she reminds them and the rest of their family to find hope in the smallest of things in life, and that every new morning is worth living.

An extremely tall long furred black cat with a 'crown' of red markings, and a red tie shape on it's chest. Their world can be described as busy. There is always chitter chatter, and Anima can’t help but wonder why everyone needs to talk so much. They tend to seek out places that are quiet and love to meditate on silence. If asked to, they can surely put a cat to sleep with only their mind. It only works about twenty percent of the time which is unfortunate. They practice closer in the evenings when everyone is already tired because they find it much easier to influence a cat’s sleeping schedule when they are already tired. They wish they could take a more scholarly approach to the world, but are content with what they have. After all, with all the busy voices they are often learning new things. Things like where nuts are buried.

An orange tabby she-cat with yellow eyes and penchant for collecting. She is aloof and often quiet where her brother is talkative, but she is comfortable with him filling her silences. Does not do very well with silence so she often hums to fill that silence, finding it more comfortable than talking. She has a collection of bones that is always stashed somewhere nearby and is very territorial and possessive over her things. Sometimes that thing can be as simple as a piece of moss but when she says it’s her - it’s hers. She joined the regime as a kit with her mother, originally as part of Havilah’s Regime.

Quiet, observative, and quick tongued. Ula was a bit different than her siblings, or at least she liked to think. She seemed to take in everything around her with those large blue eyes. Any information she gained, was something she stored away. Weather it be for a rainy day, or even her own gain. Ula is a cat who knows how to stay under the radar. Yet, she's strong willed, and quick to speak up for what she believes in. It's almost impossible to change her mind about something once she's made a decision.
Pale Bengal with amber eyes. Kai’s twin and partner in crime. While he does find joy in aiding in his brother’s antics when he’s by himself he’s more reserved and quiet, only assuming the role of trouble maker in the presence of others, especially Kai. Called “Thing Two” by Lazarus.

A tall, spindly, but oddly hulking monstrosity of cat, his blue grey fur and two opposite color eyes make him visibly unerving. Few people talk to him; he comes across as shady, eerie, and intimidating, and his naturally quiet nature along with the the odd, heavy movement of his step doesn't aid in this. His presence alone is an uneasing one -- few cats want to share the same room with him, or even get caught by his half-dull, pale mildew green, half deep amber-red gaze.

Facts about Sunky. Sunky is happy-go-lucky, carefree, friendly, gentle-hearted, cute, and unambitious. He also only has small jumps. He does good in every way. Unlike his brother Sonic, Sunky can swim. But he doesn't run as fast, cause he's never in a rush. Sunky considers everyone his friend. He also has the miraculous ability to get out of any danger unscathed by doing nothing. How could anyone try and hurt him? He is very cute. Sunky loves to dance and always wants his friends to join in. Sunky doesn't talk much, and has a rather high metabolism so he's always a snacking. Sunky is a blue cat with oddly spiky fur. Sunky should have red eyes but it's against the rules so Sunky has black eyes instead. Or maybe his pupils are just constantly dilated. Who knows.

Saint Philomena took a vow of chastity, and when she refused an emperor's advances, she was tied to an anchor and drowned. When her bones were exhumed and miracles began to occur, the church declared her believers a cult, declared she never existed, and threw her to the wind, with the disappeared saints. Philomena Alexandria will not be so easily forgotten. Known as Mina to all, she despises her own name; after all, naming a kit after some tortured child who's canonisation was thrown to the dogs sounds like her parents were praying for her own downfall. She's never truly forgiven them for it. Butchering her own name isn't the only thing that puts her at odds with her family; she refuses to listen to tradition, nor to anyone, in fact. This brown tabby she-cat knows who she is, and she knows what's best for her own even if the path isn't always the most fruitful, and God help anyone who tells her otherwise. Reckless, blunt, and with a disregard for health and safety, With her green eyes full of mischief, Mina constantly causes problems for everyone, and is often the one to get her littermates in trouble. She constantly tries to persuade her goody-two-shoes sister Aulora to join her in her pranks, and she constantly pushes the blame for anything she does to her brother Cyrus; after all, she knows how to play to her own advantage, and being a girl comes with its perks. Flirtatious and easily-amused, she spins a web and traps everyone in her grasp; the world is her circus and everyone's her flying monkey. Perhaps Saint Philomena couldn't keep her following, and perhaps the church wanted to keep girls like her quiet, but heaven be damned if she doesn't get her own way, and she'll have cats following her own steps soon enough, with perhaps a little less torture than her namesake.




The Commander of the Regime is the most respected cat within the group, and the best of the best at what they do. They know how to do every single trade and specialty within the group, and take full responsibility for the state of the Regime during their leadership. As with clan leaders, their word is law, and upon promotion, a Commander is granted seven lives. Rarely does the cat in this rank get time to relax. The Commander is picked from the Scout and Mercenary Superiors, and generally, the cat who’s had their rank the longest gets the position, but this is not always the case.

The most skilled healer in the Regime, this cat nurses the sick, heals the wounded, and often receives dreams from the Blind Protector. This cat has the most direct line of communication with the clan’s ancestors, and is capable of seeing and speaking with the dead. They are granted two lives, and are respected for their abilities to speak with the ancestors. Because of the nature of the Guider rank, many Chamans are old, or otherwise disabled in some fashion.

The best Scout, and the most revered cat in the Regime, next to the Commander. Also the most overworked, as this cat is responsible for keeping the entire Regime fed. The Scout Superior is equal in rank to the Mercenary Superior, and they oversee Scouting patrols, and training of Scout Cadets.


The best Mercenary, equal in rank to the Scout Superior. They arrange mining, tunnel, and surface territory operations, as well as ensure Mercenaries and their Cadets are keeping up on their combat skills. This rank also oversees the group’s Privates, and ensures they are suitably shown the harsh realities of life.


Replacing the rank of Raiser Superior is Origin Superior, an RP position. This cat can be chosen from any rank in the Regime, can be of any gender, and not only do they command the Raiser subset of Auxiliaries and watch over Post Kilo, but they play Matchmaker for the Regime. The feline in this rank will often set cats up on dates, encouraging them to become mates and have kits. The Origin Superior is also required to bring kits into the Regime regularly, whether by having kits with their mate, or even stealing them from other clans, if they can get away with it. Most cats respect the Origin Superior, as they are often the one to have set up a cat with their mate, and generally have a closer relationship with this Superior than any other.


The best Guider, second only to the Chaman, who they will succeed, in terms of skill. This Superior oversees the day to day of all Guiders and the training of Guider Cadets, and is incredibly skilled in not only the art of healing, but in being able to grow plants and raise animals. It is only when a Guider becomes Superior they start to see any sort of respect, and it’s nothing akin to what their fellow Superiors see. Because of the nature of the Guider rank, many Guider Superiors are old, or otherwise disabled in some fashion


The most revered and essential rank, and by default, every single cat is put into this rank as a Cadet, with exceptions only for disability or being drafted into the ranks of the Mercenaries. They most often hunt off Regime territory, as the Regime itself generally has little prey to offer. This rank has two specialties: Predator & Pirate

The strongest Scouts, who work best in teams. These cats hunt in packs, tracking large prey such as foxes, eagles, hawks, and wild boars. Just one of these creatures can feed many cats in the clan, and then the bones and hides can be used for trade or in weapons and defensive construction to keep the Regime safe. Idolized more than the other Scout specialty for their ability to bring down prey other clans can't. This rank loves to offer their services to other clans dealing with predator problems, provided they get to keep what they kill.

The hunters of your standard prey animals. These are the smallest Scouts, the quickest on their paws. These cats, thanks to their size, are able to squeeze into the tiniest spaces to get a mouse, or cover extremely long distances to hunt... or steal, prey from just about anywhere, and then slip away without being noticed.

The limited fighting force of the Regime. Cats in this rank are drafted whenever a position opens up. They consist of cats who are either older and no longer able to travel long distances like scouts, or, more often picked from tykes or cadets to be trained specifically for this role. Capped at 15. This rank has two specialties: Miner & Trapper

When cats of this specialty are not needed to fight or protect the Regime, they spend their time doing hard labor to produce necessary materials for trade, and who keep the tunnels stable. The strongest mercenaries are picked for this rank. This specialty is extremely hard on the body, and tends to wear cats out physically far before other ranks and specialties.

Mercenaries of average strength, but highly intelligent. These cats use traps to hunt on Regime territory. Especially cunning trappers might even be able to trap a fox to be used for its fur and meat. These Mercenaries know the tunnels and surface of the Regime territory best, and though they're not, or no longer, Scouts, their quick wits are highly respected. Most times, this is the rank former Scouts choose, if drafted to become a Mercenary.

The dregs of Regime society, and the respected retired. Those in this rank have failed out of absolutely every other rank within the regime. The only exception to this is those who retired from Mercenary, Scout, and Guider, bearing the title “Veteran” and are generally respected as having done their duties long enough to have earned the less stressful life of an Auxiliary, and granted the ability to live in Post Delta. This rank has two current specialties, however more may be added based upon the Regime’s evolving needs: Blacksmith and Raiser

When a cat is useless in every other context, they get stuck doing whatever work the Regime has for them to earn their meals. One such job is making the very items, weapons, and defenses that help the Regime to function. They are given items, and if there's one thing they actually are good at, it's making the exact same items over and over and over. And if they're not making something, then they're trying to come up with improvements. This allows more creativity, albeit a more repetitive lifestyle. One that's thankless to boot.

Generally, Origins and the Origin Superior keep tykes in line, but a few of the lowest of the low keep an eye on tykes as needed. They are most useful to the Regime in the Summer, when the majority of kits are born. Seen as worth little to the Regime, wherein even tykes seem to not respect them all that much, they are heavily encouraged to have kits of their own, and provide value to the group in that way. Luckily for them, the Regime stops short of forced marriages.

NOTE: Nursing Origins, and cats recovering from injury do these jobs until they can return to their duties. Veterans are absorbed into this rank as a title, rather than an entire position. Auxiliaries who did not retire due to age, and the resulting loss of ability cannot gain the title Veteran. There is no Superior to this rank, as none of these cats have hope to even be a Guider any longer. Sentinels keep these cats in line.

This rank consists only of cats who cannot be Scouts or Mercenaries. These are cats with disabilities, or who have otherwise proven incapable of hunting/fighting, but can still learn herbs and heal their groupmates. Guiders are considered a failure rank, or the last step before retiring, as some Scout and Mercenaries choose to become this rank when they can no longer fight or hunt, but do not wish to retire. This rank has two specialties: Farmer & Forager

Other than healing, even the letdowns must find a way to provide prey. These cats do so by growing plants and raising what animals they can in the Regime’s inhospitable environment. The farmer's job is cyclical. The plants feed the animals, the remains of the animals and old herbs feed the earth, and so on and so forth, keeping the herb stores whole, and bellies full in times of hardship.

Rather than growing herbs, these cats are experts in memorizing what is safe and what isn't. They're strong enough to withstand the territory's cold to gather nuts, herbs, edible plants, even bugs. These can be used in their own duties, or fill bellies, though most often, these are given to the farmers or pirates to feed or bait small animals.

The Regime only has two spies. These spies are blessed by the Blind Protector to have an endless cycle of reincarnation. The spy is sent by the commander on the missions from the most brutal to the simplest. This can include assassinations, blending in with a clan to gain intelligence and more. The spy is essentially expendable, for they will always come back to the Regime one way or another.
- Reincarnation is essential for a spy. If their cover is blown, if they die on mission, if they become too difficult, death helps restart them. However they have all their past memories, each death is a more experienced spy.
- A spy can leave the cycle of reincarnation to live their own mortal life, not coming back next time they die. They will leave the loop and a new spy will be placed with a reincarnation cycle. Leaving the cycle is seen as a selfish move, as their eternal purpose is to serve the Regime, not have their own life.
- A spy has a name they keep throughout life times, it is not up to them to change it, it is up to the Blind Protector. Only if a spy leaves the cycle is the new spy given a new name.
- Spies are typically not allowed to have mates or kits because of how frequently they can be demanded to die to be reborn again. Because they are essentially the commanders tool they have to gain permission to have a mate and kits.
- Roleplayers who have a spy can choose to keep the spy once they leave the role or to let other roleplayers have the character to continue on the lineage

The Regime has four Sentinels. These are the cats that are trained specifically to protect the Commander and Chaman. Their other duties include supervising the Auxiliaries, in lieu of a fifth Superior. Two cats guard the Commander, one guards the Chaman, and one supervises the non-Raiser Auxiliaries. Their duties rotate daily. Sentinels are considered the most loyal out of the whole group, and most often former Mercenaries or Commanders inhabit this rank. Traditionally they have three claw scars over their heart to prove it, like a badge, but it is by no means required.

When a she-cat of any rank becomes pregnant, they are an Origin. Throughout their pregnancy, they are given extra prey and transferred to Auxiliary duties, so they do not strain themselves. They are treated very well during this time, and it is the most relaxing time in any she-cat’s life. The mate of the Origin (or whoever they’re dating at the time), continues on their duties, but is given more free time to spend with their mate throughout the pregnancy and first moon of the kits’ life. After the kits are weaned, the parents go back to normal duties. If the Origin isn’t married, but the father of the litter is in the Regime, and wishes to be in the litter’s life, he is given the same treatmeant as if he were the Origin’s mate.

Any cat or mated pair in the Regime, who adopts kits, regardless of the tykes’ ages, are given a moon of lesser duties to bond with their tykes, similar to how the father of a litter an Origin has is treated.

Due to the ever present need to ensure the Regime is fed, safe, and functioning, Tykes don't necessarily get a relaxing childhood. Respect and discipline are the first things they're taught, and from the time they're weaned, they're pressured into doing work for the Regime. Younger tykes, once weaned, spend time helping within the Regime itself, split between the non-Scout ranks to do menial work. At around three or four moons, most tykes start helping out with the Scouts, and are often sent on missions with them to do things like set up camp, get in the smallest spaces even the tiniest Scout can barely reach, and occasionally be used to draw predator's attention. Such a job isn't without risk, and it's not out of the realm of possibility that a tyke is killed or disabled in the line of duty.

Outsiders with attitude problems, belonging to the other clans or groups. The only reason the Regime takes them in is because they can be used to help the group. They're treated extremely harshly, but still given a lot more care than the Prisoners, and rarely have to worry about actually dying... despite what the Regime may imply. These cats are given a reality check as to the harsh realities of the world, and worked to the bone to be taught discipline, respect, and come to appreciate just how much of a luxury their lives in their other clans are. It is rare, but possible, that a Regime cat can be put into this rank, and if their attitude does not improve following bootcamp, these cats may be exiled or imprisoned, depending on their attitude and reason for being in boot camp in the first place. MoonClan cats chosen to become Luminaries are also of this rank, and receive the same treatment to give them the necessary skills to serve MoonClan well. See Bootcamp for more info.

Political prisoners, traitors, and cats older than ten moons who wish to join the Regime. Prisoners in the Regime serve a singular purpose. Hard labor. They are given the most dangerous and dirty work, the worst prey, few herbs, and none survive long. It's not that the Regime wishes for their death, necessarily, simply that they cannot afford to keep useless mouths, and unless it's absolutely required to keep a cat alive for political reasons, well, prisoners are expendable. Regardless, prisoners never remain in the rank long. They are either promoted to a proper place in the Regime, set free for political gain, or die of injury, starvation, and/or disease. Generally, the cats within this rank are either promoted or dead within two moons, and it’s not uncommon for cats who began their time in the regime as prisoners to wear out far quicker than other Regime cats, or end up disabled during their prison time, and be forced to join as a lesser rank. The Regime generally resorts to bootcamp or exile over keeping Regime cats as prisoners, except as absolutely necessary to keep the group safe.

Because the Regime is under snow three quarters of the year, a schedule for those wishing to have kits has been established. Summer is when most kittens happen, and when mated pairs are most heavily encouraged to have or adopt children. Most cats hope to have their first litters in summer. For the rest of the year, all mated pairs are divided into the remaining seasons, and during the first month of each season all mate pairs are given less duties and extra prey in the hopes that these pairs will give the Regime enough kits throughout the year, while not overwhelming Post Kilo. Cats are heavily discouraged from having kits outside Summer or their assigned season so as not to burden the Regime with a potential excess of kits in their snowy seasons.
⅓ of mated pairs are sorted into the Spring Category. Spring is the season before Summer, and prey is gaining abundance. However, from the long moons of being overworked, the cats are the most stressed overall in this season, and miscarriages, or issues during kitting/with the kits are common.


On the day after the first snow melt, around the end of May to beginning of June, a huge festival is held, both to celebrate another year survived, and to encourage cats to have or adopt kits. A feast is held, with romantic places set up all over the territory to encourage pregnancies. This is the optimal time for pregnancies and kitting in the Regime, given the surplus of prey and herbs, which allows the Regime to be much less stressed.


⅓ of mated pairs are sorted into the Winter Category. This is the season after Fall and before Spring, and the coldest, with least amount of prey. Pregnancy during this season is harsh, and sometimes kits or Origins starve, or are lost to the weather. However, kits born during this season are said to be the hardiest and best in their ranks.


⅓ of mated pairs are sorted into the Fall Category. Fall is the season after Summer, and cats are relatively relaxed from the Summer. However, prey is less abundant, and Predators are far more common. Origins and young tykes being killed by predators or illness is most common in this season.


Innovation in the Regime has been paramount to their ongoing survival, though many times innovators get brushed under the rug as lazy, due to their position among the Auxiliaries. Even so, many toil on to make lives in the Regime easier, hoping for any recognition they can get.

There’s no particular cat credited with this invention or it’s improvement. Most traps in the Regime are made from wood and vines traded to them by other clans, though a few clever cats may have stolen some from the twolegs, if they’re witty enough. These traps are then used by the Mercenaries to be able to trap animals for the group, to be used either as prey, or for the Guiders to breed.

The cats of the Regime follow the Blind Protector. In life, his name was Tarak, a blind tom who created the Renegade Regime, sister to Abana, the creator and worshiped ancestor of Avalon Everlasting. He doesn’t make appearances often, and when he does, it’s usually to the Chaman or Commander, the former of which he gives the ability to see and speak with the dead.

In the Regime, there’s hardly such a thing as a break. Workaholics are the norm, and especially among the Scouts, relaxing is considered laziness, and looked down upon. The harder a cat works, the better they’re seen among their peers, though once you get to Auxiliaries, this mentality tends to flip somewhat. As the lowest on the totem pole, with no way to climb the ranks beyond their station in life, these cats tend to value their individuality and creativity more than their work ethic, and they’re more likely to do the bare minimum to earn their meals, taking the time to properly rest, relax, and pursue enjoyable things, and are far less likely to burn out than cats in other ranks as a result, though they pay for this ability with the overall disappointment directed at them by their fellow groupmates.

Due to the lack of much of anything besides stone, minerals, and snow on their own territory in large part, making deals and building up relationships with other clans is imperative to the Regime. The Scouts will offer out their skills in exchange for prey, take in cats who need rehabilitating, and give what the Mercenaries can mine for resources or food in turn. As such, the Regime tends to be viewed as a neutral party to most conflicts, rarely will they make enemies. Rather, if they must help, they’re more likely to do so by giving resources to the side they support more, though some Commanders may think they can get away with playing both sides.

A rigorous process by which cats within and without the Regime are rehabilitated. The Regime takes outsiders into this rank both because they can help the Regime stay afloat, and because it builds their relationships with other clans. It’s harder to fight a clan when you made friends in the tunnels, after all.

Bootcamp is all about showing the cats who go through the program the harshest realities of life. These cats get the worst prey, and if there isn’t enough to go around, they’re more likely to go without than a normal member of the Regime, and must work twice as hard as anyone else. Cats in this program remain until they are rehabilitated, meeting the criteria of whatever the leader who sent them requests, generally a more obedient and reasonable attitude.

Privates are most often forced to wake far before dawn by the Mercenary Superior, engaging in daily runs, having to catch their own breakfast within the Regime territory, or risk going without. The particulars of the program itself varies from Superior to Superior, but the day to day is most often along the lines of hunting, trapping, and battle training, prioritizing the needs of many over that of a single cat, their work ending far after sundown, with only roughly an hour before their late bedtime to relax either in their post, or with the Auxiliaries. Iif the group is behaving well, they tend to get up to an hour more free time, and looser rule on where they can go, something that’s highly valued, and cats close to phasing out of the program are likely to heavily police new recruits to ensure they themselves don’t lose what precious little time they have.



H.Q is the command center for RR and is the largest of all the posts RR lives in. It is where the Commander, Chaman, Sentinels, and Spies reside. It is also where the Mercenaries and their Cadets live. Other ranks' Cadets and Auxiliaries may only enter the post when accompanied by a full Guider, Scout, Mercenary, Spy, Sentinel or one of the Command. H.Q. is the heart of the Regime. This is a common place for the commander to give announcements and plans of action to be formed. The large amethyst in the center is about the size of a fully grown oak tree, it’s not uncommon for cats to climb and lounge on the impressive crystal. There are two fountains on either side of the crystal that no longer run, but still hold water from the well water that has cracked below the concrete. Dead Nettle blankets the floor, many cats grow up very fond of the purple colored flowers.

This is the post where Scouts and Scout Cadets reside. Nestled in the cave just south of the Headquarters, it rests by the river and is a very quiet and peaceful place to rest. It’s a good space to practice hunting in your spare time as well. This post is also where prey is stored.

This is where the Origins, Origin Superior, and Tykes live. Just down past the CrescentHollow, there is a path of tricky tunnels to follow in order to arrive in Post Kilo. Having been near an entrance, they set up struggles that any outsiders wouldn't notice in order to give them an alarm for any pending danger. Raiser specialty Auxiliaries travel here in the early hours of the day to aid the Origin Superior in raising the tykes.

Found just north of the Headquarters and nearest to Post Delta, there is a lovely spring nearby and a river along the outside of the cave that helps build beautiful gardens and has nice space to store and organize their herbs. This is where the Guiders & Guider Cadets live and work.

The home of the Auxiliaries. Located next to the Garden, with a short cave joining the two, it’s the warmest and most peaceful place in the tunnels, with a hot spring in the back that can sooth aching muscles. Previously the Veterans’ post, it was turned into the post for Auxiliaries upon their creation until a proper post could be set up.

This is the story of how RR and AE were formed long ago.
This also talks about the spiritual guides of each group, Abana for Avalon and Tarak (The Blind Protector) for Renegade Regime.

The promise Garrison Starkfeld saw between his daughter and son was wrong...

What made Avalon Everlasting and Renegade Regime's bond special was that it was a bond forged by that of a brother and sister, separated by the rages of war, and found a way to respect each others differences when they finally met again.

Abana saved the cats of the city, while Tarak took the ones looking for refuge underground. That was how the two groups were originally formed.

There was once a group that went by the name of Black Vision. They roamed the forests where the Outcast Clans now stand, they lived in the trees near a rather large city.

There was a chieftain and an oracle that lead the group together, which was where Renegade Regime got the idea of the Chaman and Commander leading together, even though as time progressed, the Chaman became more like the Commander's trusted adviser and personal medicine cat.

This Oracle and Chieftain were a mated pair, and their kits held the ability to lead. She-cat's were rare in this old and now forgotten group, and so, when they were born, they automatically assumed whatever territory their parents held and the suitor of that she-cat would become the alpha of that territory.

Abana and Tarak were birthed from the first, and only, litter of Garrison and Olive Starkfeld, the last Oracle and Chieftain of Black Vision.

So, of course, Abana was the one that was going to end up gaining a mate and therefore co-lead the clan with her suitor. That is, until a great war in the human world took place. Suddenly, the trees were no longer a safe place to be for cats and other animals alike. Days of siege came and went, and soon, a bomb fell upon the very territory of Black Vision, costing Garrison Starkfeld his life.

With his dying words, he told his son and daughter that they were to lead Black Vision together as the first and only unmated Oracle and Chieftain in the history of the group. He saw the potential of a strong and commanding leader within his son, as well as a governed and understanding oracle within his daughter. He thought they would bring peace and prosperity between the group for years to come.

But he was terribly wrong.

The first day the siblings were placed into power, they squabbled and bickered over what should be done in order to save their homeland and families. Abana wished to save those that had ran into the city during the great explosion that had torn through their camp, while Tarak wished to go under ground and hide from it all. They bickered and bickered until the moon was high in the sky, and then finally, the went to bed to rest for the next day.

The next day, they both went through the same argument over again, this time with even more fervor and anger. They were full out yelling at each other over the sirens, claws unsheathed, a battle was soon to be fought. The raced forward... but instead of meeting each other with tooth and claw, a great eruption of rubble sent the two flying in different directions, separating them from each other in more ways than one.

Tarak, left blinded by the explosion, was picked up by one of the Armies commanders, while Abana was found by an influential man in the war (imagine Winston Churchill.). And so, the birth of two new groups was sent into motion.

After months of being nursed back to health, the two both set forth, following the path in which they had wished to take without the other sibling. Abana continued to watch the man who adopted her speak with people, quickly picking up terms and ideas that she would have never dreamed of knowing before, and on one such occasion, while he was speaking with somebody known as the "President" the idea hit her.

The cats of the city needed a republic that cared closely for them and brought them all closer together. Something that would give them all a say in their lives, and so, she began to rally those that were in need and in danger to her side. Whispers were sent in all directions that a black cat with a blue scarf would take them in and give them the way out of their desperation.

Cats that had been pets of doctors and nurses flocked to Abana, willing to do anything in order to save the many cats that were more than just slightly harmed from the constant bombings. The medical staff became the best in all the land, and new skills were set forth and taught to the members.

And so, the nickname "Avalon" was given to the name of the group, since it was both a refuge to those that needed it, and the name of the factory that the group had taken up residence in. As years passed though, the she cat realized that with a group the size of Avalon Everlasting's proportions would easily be caught, so a plan was devised.

This was why Avalon became a nomadic group, to hide from the humans.

Though, Abana was only president until the group had managed to find a way to stand on it's own without help, and so, she stepped down even though there were many a protests because of it. She became known as the "Mother of Nations" and from that day on, she became the symbol, and mother, of the group Avalon Everlasting.

Tarak, on the other hand, took a different path than that of his sister. Being blind and worried for the future. He listened to his gut and took off into the forest, rallying his old family members and group mates up as he went from territory to territory, leading them all the safety of the tunnels below. Leading them below and protected them from the battles above. Tarak later died from illness and was revered as a savior for bringing all the cats into the sanctuary of the darkness. Over time Tarak’s name was lost and he was remembered for his physical features of a ghostly white cat with blinded eyes. So the Blind Protector was born and his spirit forever wanders the darkness of Renegade Regime.The history that resides in all the hearts of the Regime. Its all has a deeper meaning besides death and murder it also shows the birth of their lives and how they live now. The safety they enjoy and the darkness that is lighter than the sun above the surface. Here where a cat can live peacefully but yet we don't let ourselves get soft just cause we live underground... never will that happen. We are strong willed and every tyke born to the wise old veterans there is a piece of the Protector in all of us. We may not be spiritually connected like the Commander and Chaman but the same strong will and fighting strength is there deep in us and it keeps us going keeps us alive keeps us happy. Hear our story how we began and how it was all started.



The driving force that leads many a cats down the wrong path.

They lose their way, going mad with greed that they will never fulfill.


What all of these foolish cats are missing, the will power over themselves to know how to come about this power and most important of all, keep it. Life. Take my power from me, and this is what I will take from you. I have fought long and hard to become who I am today and no one, not clan cat, kittypet, or rouge will take that away from me. Life is cruel, a lesson I have learned since the beginning of my childhood.A lone figure stared at the top of the cliff, facing the strong wind that blew from the south where a storm was brewing.

He grinned, his face cast in shadows as overhead the heavy clouds built upon each other, announcing their arrival with an occasional rumble or peal of light that disappeared as quickly as it came. The figure turned his head to the wind,pelt flowing behind him as the fierceness of the wind threatened to blow him off the cliff. The waves crashed beneath him, clawing hungrily at the rocks as if rising to eat the sands of the shore, only to be pulled back by an unseen force. A challenge between the force of nature and those that try to control that power were at war; a war where there would be only one survivor- the winner. A hint of a grin touched cat as he nodded to the oncoming storm accepting the challenge that had been laid down between them thousands of years ago.

Each side had chosen it’s pawn, it’s one hope of survival, he himself was a testament to that. He had prepared for this his entire life and soon, very soon, his plan would unravel. "Soon" he whispered to himself, eyes lighting up as he watched the waves below. He had killed, bleed and trained for this time. The only ones who could have possibly stopped him had been eliminated throughout the years, leaving only a very few in his way. In his heart, he held the power of will, his own as well as each one gained through knowledge from his mentors, each greater than the last.

His training began when he was merely a kit, born in the region far away from the forest of Clans, in a city that is no more. He had been alone at first, fighting for the few few days of his life, a battle that he would have lost if an unforeseen series of events took place. It was during the night of a coupe', fireworks that lit up the sky in flashes of red, gold and black. The ground was shaking as the scent of fear and terror began to fill the air. It was there that he was found and pitied hours later in debris by a twoleg, who had shown mercy to a small shivering kit and rescued him from a place that was no more. This is when the training began, the drive of these twolegs that soon became the kit's own. It was here by various mentors that he was taught to fight, to kill.

As he began to progress through the ranks, each system built so much like the twolegs military that respect was something he became accustomed to. He rose quickly from a kit that no one thought would survive to thriving among the cats that lived and fought as a group. The final test was in the form of the leader of this band of cats himself. It was from those twolegs so long ago that he learned about who he was and what his purpose was with the life that had been spared. To work alone meant death while working with comrades meant you all lived to fight another day.

Soon he would be the most powerful cat and no one in this forest would have greater power than he. Frowning he turned, beginning to pad slowly back down the hill, ignoring the sea’s angry cries at his back. That, nor the way the waves crashed onto the shore, soaking his pelt with sharp needles of salt, could stop him now. For his plan was already in motion, no matter how much the great powers may scream their fury. With a single twitch of his whiskers, the figure vanished, leaving nothing behind him as he disappeared into the darkness, already plans forming in his mind as he disappeared underground, his comrades following close behind as they entered the void. Those foolish cats would be looking for an attack around them, never below. And this darkness, was his domain now and no one could beat him here.

Written by: .:Madhatter:. Edited by: FinalVictory
RR Created: June 14th, 2010 | Added to WCC2: September 22nd, 2010
Creator: FinalVictory | Assistance by: .:MadHatter:.