Sorry for the trouble, Honey. But I decided I wanted to update their bios a little. XD

<font size="4" color="#F5DFC1"><b>SENTINEL GARDENIA }} GIDGETGAL</b></font><br>
<font size="2" color="#F5DFC1"><p>She was a beauty her mother could never see. A Goddamn fighter. Unafraid of the fire that warped around seemingly everything in life she wanted. She was an angel stolen from Hell. A kitten born in Dayclan, taken back to the Regime with her mother, but Dayclan didn't let go easy. When they fought at the border for her siblings, when she watched the brothers and sister taken from her, those angelic wings she once had fell off. But let it be known that on the day that her wings broke off that Dayclan forgot she had claws. She is a fighter. Gardenia is completely devoted to the Regime; a stern follower of its code, and determined to show everyone that her own mixed blood doesn't prevent her from being an honorable soldier. Yet life threw another curve ball at her; the death of her mother right in front of her. Gardenia defended her mother the best she could and got everlasting scars that have left her permanently deformed. From that moment on she swore that nothing else in the world would ever hurt her family. Her siblings that separated were dead to her; they may as well have been killed that day. Her only siblings now are her half-siblings: Noceur, Soigne, Xuxa, and Draconis, as well as Atticus on her father's side. When their mother died, they became all that was left of her. Gardenia sees San's image in them every time she looks at their faces. As a result, she has grown violently protective of them. She stalks them in the tunnels, always a heartbeat away whenever one of them needs help. A bombshell blonde furred she-cat with black flowering markings; the front of her paws black and a big fluffy tail like her father. With the most remarkable honey gold eyes, claw marks trail from her right eye, down her throat, across her right shoulder, and ends in the center of her chest; a startling reminder of the day she lost a little bit of her mind. But she is a fighter.</p></font><br>

rank: Sentinel


<font size="4" color="#F5DFC1"><b>ATTICUS }} GIDGETGAL</b></font><br>
<font size="2" color="#F5DFC1"><p>A family isn't limited to just blood, but the bonds shared between those who care about each other. The son of Snowprince and Whispyfeather, it is obvious that Atticus wasn't born in the Regime; though his short, snow-white fur with light grey patches covering his head and back isn't all that unusual, his short, Scottish-fold ears are a dead giveaway for his pure Dayclan bloodline. He along with his siblings, were brought to the Regime by members of Dayclan to escape a brutal invasion, where they were loved and well cared for by the Raisers. However, when their mother Whispyfeather returned to take them home, while the rest of his litter left happily, the small tom loved the Regime so much that they chose to stay behind with his older half-sister, Gardenia. To this day he doesn't regret it. Atticus is a gentle but timid tom, not liking to make a fuss about anything, and tries his best to keep the peace among his friends and family. His path as a Guider is one that he chose almost from the very beginning, having a unique interest in herbs like many of his relatives before him. But perhaps such a path was inevitable, as his honey-yellow gaze is incredibly blurred; having grown horribly nearsighted from an early age, to the point where he's unable to recognize a face from across a small room. Atticus doesn't let this setback stop him though, and works his hardest every day. In spite of his heritage, the Regime is home to him, and he cares very much for every single cat in it.</p></font><br>

rank: Guider

Updating/Adding now!

Welcome to the Regime. c;

Adding. c:

<font size="4" color="#F5DFC1"><b>CADET HAVILAH}} jadie </b></font><br>
<font size="2" color="#F5DFC1"><p>Shimmery auburn waves cloak his body, white lightning running up his legs and creeping up the right side of his face, giving him the appearance of a broken china doll. His eyes are an extremely dark exotic green, only the barest gilded layer shimmering over them like a forest blanketed in fairy dust. Havilah is a tall tom with an imposing presence, always a scowl on his face, an edge to his voice. Now, he was never a particularly nice cat, but he used to smile and get along well with select others, specifically his close-knit family. He had it all: Parents anyone would envy, good looks, seemingly limitless potential. And oh, was he proud. Dangerously proud. He, like his father, Kyros, clung to the image of perfection, would even kill for it. Despite being only a kit, Havilah's name was whispered throughout the Regime as one to watch out for, one who would be great. But then... the picture shattered. His entire family was poisoned and only he and a couple of his siblings survived. While Havilah physically recovered, his heart never did. To cope with the loss of his family he killed a precious part of himself which left him incapable of empathizing with others or understanding things he's done wrong. He has no sense of humor, never plays around and keeps all others at an arm's length, including his surviving siblings. He is totally disconnected and although he does well in his duties his social presence is like a storm cloud. Havliah tries in vain to bring back the image of perfection he had in his youth but despite his best efforts he continues to spiral further and further away from it.</p></font><br>

rank: Cadet uhhh Scout? But I want him to do Merc stuff too xD DUAL WEILD???
mentor: N/A

<font size="4" color="#F5DFC1"><b>BRAM-TYKE}} phantom</b></font><br>
<font size="2" color="#F5DFC1"><p>The Dandy, charming to a fault and dangerously intelligent. The most beautiful of the litter, with gorgeous waves of golden-blonde fur with a bronze undercoat and lighter platinum swirls to compliment endless turquoise eyes, he is almost as wayward as Victoria. Bearing a gray morality, this excellent manipulator and stealthy feline always presents offers with a catch. He is best at making friends in high places, and always, always, gets what he wants. He finds cats like his relative Kaisra most interesting for their chaotic natures and high rank, and can almost always be found wearing a cute little black velvet top hat on his head.</p></font><br>

rank: tyke

<font size="4" color="#F5DFC1"><b>KALLISTRATE-TYKE }} luciferin</b></font><br>
<font size="2" color="#F5DFC1"><p>War spares no man. In its wake rides death, claiming the lost souls of those caught up in the passions of battle. Flame climb high into the sky, licking the clouds, while shovels dig deep into the earth, returning ash to ash and dust to dust. Once the smoke clears, new life springs forth from the ashes, pushing out of scorched and scarred land to cover the hills in grass. Two sides of coin - good and bad. Life and death. Creation and destruction. For the Gods, a differentiation so subtle can be easily overlooked. Within this enigma is where Kallistrate makes her home. She is the commander leading the charge and the priest burying the dead. The hungry flame and sated earth. Her beauty is ephemeral and exquisite. A star visiting from the heavens, she is cloaked in fur the color of spun gold. On this celestial palate are stripes of a slightly darker shade, closer to an orange. Her eyes are the shade of new growth, bright and viridian. Her love for her family is incomparable to anything else in the mortal realm. To say she would die for one of them is an understatement. She would burn the world for them and never blink an eye. Like the gods, she has little concept of the difference between life and death when it comes to protecting those she loves, and will stop at nothing to see them safe.
</p></font><br>
rank:
tyke (to be a mercenary)

<font size="4" color="#F5DFC1"><b>PHILOMELA-TYKE }} luciferin</b></font><br>
<font size="2" color="#F5DFC1"><p>"Was it a vision, or a waking dream? / Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?" -- Keats
To fly above the earth, free of responsibility and the burdens of daily life. To soar through the clouds, shaking off fear and uncertainty until all that is left is the pure clarity of the soul. Captive to her own insecurities yet ruled by no one, Philomela is a she-cat of many facets, both legion and alone. Her mind wanders across all of creation, dallying only briefly before leaving to revel in the freedom of life once again. Simultaneously wise and yet so very naive, this songbird is quite confusing to some, causing them to find her off putting or abhorrent. Still, she pushed on, taking pleasure in the smaller parts of life. Her beauty is not like her sister Kallistrate's. Instead of ethereal and otherworldly, it's beauty is due to its very organic and earthbound nature. Her pelt is her mother's, a rich chestnut of varying shades and hues, all combining into a glimpse into the very earth's core. Her eyes are her father's, dark, amber, and thoughtful. She is not quiet, but does not speak needlessly. Instead, she speaks when the mood strikes her, tending to draw together inspiration from her surrounding to fashion simple poems or observations on nature. Her love for the natural world is ceaseless, and if you spend any time with you you'll see that.</p></font><br>
rank:
tyke (to be a guider)

<font size="4" color="#F5DFC1"><b>OWL-TYKE }} cookie </b></font><br>
<font size="2" color="#F5DFC1"><p>Quiet and watchful. He picks up on little things that cats aren't saying, like being able to tell that they're irritated or untrustworthy. Sort of like a background player who whispers in the ear of the leader and gives his advice but doesn't ever make the decisions or call the shots. He's the jealous type, so when other cats get involved with his close-knit friend group, he is standoffish and irritable. Generally, he's stoic but not unkind. Owl is not dedicated to the regime so much as he is dedicated to his friend group. Above anything else, they come first; whatever problems arise due to this, he does not care.</p></font><br>

rank: tyke

<font size="4" color="#F5DFC1"><b>CLEMENTINE-TYKE }} turtlenoir </b></font><br>
<font size="2" color="#F5DFC1"><p>The Philosopher, drawn to abstracts and the unknown. The youngest of the litter, who can be found always observing others, especially twolegs and kittypets. The orange feline with thin, creeping lines of white that wrap up her legs like spiderwebs and dreamy opalescent eyes, is always lost in her own mind, and can be found often writing and drawing on walls of the tunnels in an attempt to emulate and understand the twoleg language. She's a very spiritual and calm feline, and will always offer a listening ear to anyone who wishes for it, and is most drawn to the eccentric Bian Ayzaria. Makes her own perfumes from herbs and fruits when she can't find a relative to steal her some from twolegplace. Prefers citrusy scents.</p></font><br>

rank:tyke
mentor :

when i have time after finals I will give her a better bio <3

<font size="4" color="#F5DFC1"><b> SHAE }} Stark Raving Mad </b></font><br>
<font size="2" color="#F5DFC1"><p>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.</p></font><br>

rank: Mercenary



<font size="4" color="#F5DFC1"><b> FABIAN-TYKE }} Stark Raving Mad </b></font><br>
<font size="2" color="#F5DFC1"><p>Fabian has his great grandfather's rare blue grey fur and his great grandmother's rare purple eyes. He dreams of someday being a spy like them, but instead is stuck as a scout, not that he minds it much. Fabian is very upbeat with a cheery optimistic persona. As a cadet he helps out with chores more than he has to and works hard to perfect his skills as a scout. While he being a scout wasn’t his first pick he thoroughly enjoys the rank, liking the idea of providing for the Regime where they need it most. He gets along the best with his father, always obeying everyone in his family unless he believes what they are doing is morally wrong. Fabian is a sweetheart who wants to make sure everyone is happy and cares about every individual person's feelings. He’s typically supportive and tries to take in every side into account unless someone is being particularly despicable, then he isn’t afraid to stand his ground. However Fabian’s dream to be a spy doesn’t exactly fade as he tries repeatedly to prove his worth as a future spy by spying on other clans. However just like his mother, when he is a cadet he tries to spy on the league and is tormented to the point that his ears are torn off. After this incident he becomes a bit more distrusting and scared of the world.</p></font><br>

rank: tyke (to be scout)