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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 12, 2016 15:28:02 GMT -5
@aromatisse
Spiderleg stood before the vast, glittering lake, his eyes trained on some distant point in the horizon. His amber eyes were slightly misty, almost as if a strange vapor had descended upon them. His tail whisked low and slow, barely stirring the grass beneath his paws. A light breeze ran through his fur and whistled in his ears.
It had been five days since the plague had officially been declared a finished event. The cats of the Clans had been horribly shaken by the tremendous amount of hardship and loss they had endured over the seemingly infinite ordeal. The majority of the Clans had died, leaving only a few behind to unite into a new Clan- BadgerClan. The goal was to restore the lake cats to the strength they once possessed, but that was easier said than done. The horror of watching one's friends and family die all around them was enough to make any cat turn into a shell of their former selves. Spiderleg was no exception to that rule.
Of course, he had always been ornery and sharp-tongued. Yet what had happened to the Clans was just enough to break him in a different way. He still cared, and yet he saw no reason to. The Clans had practically been exterminated, all by something they couldn't clearly see or fight. The thought that his Clanmates had been fighting the hardest battle of their lives alone made him both angry and sad. None of them, even the ones he didn't like, had deserved that.
He spent a lot of time alone now. He often visited the lake, since that's where he felt most at peace. The sound of the waves lapping gently against the shore was more soothing to him than anything in the world. Plus, his children were buried near the exact spot where he was standing, beneath a great old oak tree. Although he had never been the fondest of fathers, he had truly loved his kits. The memory of watching them die was just... He couldn't even stand to think back to that time. If he did, he may very well drive himself clear insane.
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Salt
Asexual/Aromantic||Rainbow Thread||#AetherSquad||#SodiumProtectors||#CAHSquad||Bracken/Salt please!
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Post by Salt on Aug 12, 2016 19:45:45 GMT -5
"I'm John Laurens in the place to be!"
OOC~
Cherryfall's personality matches her fur. Her firey coat is like her personality, she is fiesty, hotheaded, and very desperate to prove herself. Her brother hated the Dark Forest. Cherryfall is one of the most loyal cats you'll meet, despite being always negative. Cherryfall has always been the most fiery young cat. Cherryfall is desperate to prove she's not like her brother, Molewhisker. She's very loyal to her Clanmates, not hesitating to risk her life for her Clan. She's one of the best hunters in the Clan, being able to bring down the highest birds in the sky. Cherryfall has a fear of rogues and the Dark Forest and hates WindClan. Cherryfall loves kits, apprentices, and mice.
Roleplay-
"Lafayette!"
~Hamilton
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Post by Deleted on Aug 12, 2016 21:56:16 GMT -5
(Sorry, I didn't get the tag notification! I'm glad I checked this, otherwise I would have missed your starter (which is amazing, by the way. It really feels like Spiderleg.)
Five days.
Five days, since the plague had released its deathly grip on the Clans, allowing a breath of life to enter the forest once more.
Five days since the last of dead had been buried, the stench of sickness finally drowned out by the layers of earth covering the many bodies.
Five days since one clan had been four, when elements of Shadow, Wind, Thunder, and River had all been separate entities around the lake.
Five days.
Crouchfoot hovered by the mass graves of those who had fallen to the sickness, mounds of earth sheltering their once life-filled bodies from the scorching sun. It had been hard to bury them- agonizing, even- but any fate was better than rotting out in the open for scavengers to pick over.
As his green eyes floated over the burial site, he was plagued with thoughts of why. Why them, what did these innocents ever do to deserve dying in such a way, hanging onto life by a single claw as the illness wracked their bodies, leaving a husk of the soul within?
At least it was over, or so everyone thought. Crouchfoot knew. Yes, he knew it would return. He had seen the damage and knew the power of the disease. It was an invisible enemy, one that could not be contained or killed.
Will I be punished, for staying alive while everyone I've ever known died? Crouchfoot thought with a shudder and a flicker of anxiety. How long do I have, before I am taken too?
He wasn't sure how well BadgerClan would survive after this. They needed strength, leadership, and most importantly, life. Unfortunately, none of the survivors looked as they could fill those requirements. Those who remained were shells of their former selves, eyes dead and spirits lower than the bodies in the ground.
And even if BadgerClan thrived, what difference would it make? He was damned. He could feel it in every bone in his body, in every breathe he took.
The tom pulled himself to his paws, feeling the dull ache in his chest increase as he moved away from the graves. He didn't know where his paws were taking him. He simply mocked what most of the others were doing, walking around on unsteady paws, looking lost. His negative thoughts returned as he paced, filling him with self-doubt and anxiety.
I just hope that when StarClan comes for me, they can forgive me for my broken promises.
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 13, 2016 10:20:03 GMT -5
@aromatisse
The rustling of leaves jerked Spiderleg's mind away from the lake. He whirled around, claws immediately extending out of their sheaths, his countenance twisted with a mixture of anger and courage. His frame relaxed, however, upon coming to the realization that it was only a stick that had fallen from a tree above.
Great StarClan, he thought. It's only a stick, Spiderleg. Calm down.
And yet, the incident had still left his fur ruffled. The plague had left the survivors dancing constantly on their toes, always jumping at every movement or sound that seemed out of place. There were likely many reasons for this. One, cats who had once been great enemies were now being forced to live together peacefully for their own survival. Second, there was always the chance that the plague would come back. Third, leaf-fall was fast approaching, and after that... Leaf-bare.
BadgerClan desperately needed more cats, yet there was but one queen in the nursery. The other she-cats either didn't have mates or showed no interest in having kits, likely because they didn't want to feel like burdens whilst nursing. The plague had taken so many of their kits... Something they couldn't afford.
Spiderleg began walking away from the lake, having had enough of the stretching silence. He was likely needed back at the camp, anyways. BadgerClan had settled beyond the original borders of the Clans, believing it to be safer to do so. The majority of the cats believed that continuing to live in the original lake territories would bring them bad luck, as the land was now cursed.
Spiderleg, of course, thought of such things to be ridiculous. Dirt and stone could not bring a cat bad luck. The idea of luck itself was even stupid; an invisible, thought-driven force could not possibly influence a battle or a hunt. A cat influenced such things with their claws and teeth, and nothing else. It was that simple.
As he walked, he noticed the young Crouchfoot bending over a series of graves. He stopped, his amber gaze focusing hard on the tom. "Shouldn't you be helping your Clanmates?"
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 13, 2016 10:20:57 GMT -5
Salt When you get a chance, get me those other personalities, please 
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 13, 2016 14:35:45 GMT -5
Bump.
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 15, 2016 13:25:16 GMT -5
Bump.
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 16, 2016 12:50:58 GMT -5
@aromatisse You still want to do this?
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 19:11:28 GMT -5
I've been a bit busy/having the worst writer's block the past few days and only logged in real quick a couple of times to check my messages. Sorry. I'll type up a response here in just a second.
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 16, 2016 19:20:54 GMT -5
That's fine; sorry if I seem pushy lol
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Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2016 19:32:29 GMT -5
(No, not at all! I know it's frustrating when people disappear without leaving some sort of indication of what's happening, which I should have done. I'll be better!)
The ginger tom didn't notice Spiderleg approaching, nor did he really respond when the tom spoke to him. He was lost on a train of thought, consisting of self doubt and guilt.
He only barely heard Spiderleg through the fog of his thoughts, and took a few heartbeats to swivel his large ginger head to stare at him, green eyes reflecting amber. He continued like his for a moment, unaware that he could be unnerving the ex-Thunderclan cat, as he was submerged in his mind again.
He speaks of Clanmates, but which ones? WindClan, or BadgerClan? he thought to himself, letting his green gaze flick back to the graves. My clan is dead... He must mean this new one we've constructed.
"I suppose..." he mumbled, his words slurred and hard to understand. The tom shook his head violently, trying to clear his clouded thoughts and focus on giving Spiderleg a clear response. "I-I mean, yes, of course. What needs to be done?"
There was no leader of BadgerClan at the moment, as the Clan was still trying to get on its feet. Sure, there were a few contenders- mostly rowdy toms trying to boss everyone around- but no one had collectively agreed on a leader. Crouchfoot silently wondered if the Clan would make it long enough to elect a representative, or if the plague would swoop in like winters chill, silently suffocating the rest of the Clan.
Though there was no current head of operations, Crouchfoot still spoke to Spiderleg with a sense of respect, hoping the older warrior could instruct him on what to do. Though he was not WindClan, the tom had many many years on Crouchfoot; the ginger tabby was desperate for guidance, whomever it may come from. Crouchfoot did not feel able to think on his own yet, at least when it came to re-building what they had lost. He was still shaken from the events, and felt like a bumbling kit under the older warriors paws.
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 19, 2016 11:48:09 GMT -5
(Sorry- didn't get a notification about this until you liked my post)
Spiderleg's amber eyes flicked over the much younger warrior, studying him closely. Much like the other BadgerClan cats, the plague had horribly reduced him to a shaking, messy piece of guilt-ridden life. He was one of the younger ones, too, which was both good and bad. He didn't have as many memories from the good times to sadden him, but at the same time he was still not fully mature and thus rather vulnerable. He'd seen so much death and destruction that it was sure to affect him deeply for a long time to come.
The long-legged tom snorted, whiskers twitching with slight annoyance. "Why are you asking me? You have a brain, son. I've yet to see a cat born without one, especially a cat capable of surviving a plague. You're not a kit, neither. So quit reducing yourself to what you are and get your butt in gear. Your Clanmates are counting on you to be strong. We have elders. A pregnant queen in the nursery. Apprentices that are critical to our eventual survival. All of those things are more important than your grief."
He knew that many cats thought of him as over-bearing and harsh. But he had every reason to be. He'd seen a lot of bad things in his life. The destruction of the forest. The Great Battle. Everything with the Dark Forest. And now, the plague. He knew what he was doing and saying, likely more than a lot of other BadgerClan warriors. He had every right, especially in regards to a young cat, to lecture. It was his responsibility as an older warrior to teach; to help the younger ones understand that they had more to do in their lives than cater to themselves. There were always things to be done. Prey to be caught. Battles to be fought and won. There were times to grieve, of course, but they must come when all other duties had been exhausted.
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Salt
Asexual/Aromantic||Rainbow Thread||#AetherSquad||#SodiumProtectors||#CAHSquad||Bracken/Salt please!
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Post by Salt on Aug 19, 2016 14:56:59 GMT -5
"I'm John Laurens in the place to be!"
OOC~
Harespring is a small, short legged, large-eared, and bobtailed tom. His coat is a dusky tan with several white patches- as well as his tail. He has amber eyes and a muscled build. Harespring, despite being so small, is actually very nimble and lithe. He has scars littering his coat and one ear- severed at the tip. His face is flat, with the exception of his muzzle jolting out further than his face. He has a small pinkish nose and long, fluffy whiskers, as well as white toes. He's also a tuxedo. A lighter tan lines his belly, chest, muzzle, and face- giving him the extra. His shoulders jut out further than anything else of him. Harespring has a set of clawmarks covering his face and peeling up flesh, leaving skin showing.
Harespring is sour, cold, and very snappy. Having trained in the Dark Forest under Sparrowfeather, he learned quite a bit- and fell into a major personality change. However, he is very fast and often times docile if you leave him be. Harespring is a bit jealous of the leader- because he was Deputy of WindClan before the plague hit. He doesn't like kits and finds she-cats annoying. He hates apprentices because they never stop pestering him. Harespring loves doing what's best for thr Clan, and has used his Dark Forest skills to the best of two choices. The former WindClan cat has a natural hunting ability and is currently using the Dakr Forest skills to help teach his new Clanmates how to defend themsleves. He can easily lash out, like a spark but tries not to when teaching.
Spike will be up later.
Roleplay-
"Lafayette!"
~Hamilton
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 19, 2016 15:33:02 GMT -5
(Thanks, and that's fine!)
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 19, 2016 19:24:40 GMT -5
@aromatisse Waiting for people to join is so hard tbh
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Post by Deleted on Aug 20, 2016 16:16:49 GMT -5
(Man, Spiderleg is harsh. He's right, though. Lol.
I'm at work until closing so I wot be able to reply until later tonight. Sorry! Typing on my broken 4S is a lot harder than my 6+ which is at home, ahah.)
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 20, 2016 16:24:09 GMT -5
(That's fine, I understand)
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Post by Frozen on Aug 21, 2016 14:03:07 GMT -5
This has caught my eye, and I think it would be really fun to join, but the advanced part worries me. I've never been a part of an advanced RP, and I worry that I'll do one post and burn out. But I love the idea of using minor characters, so I might give this a try considering there aren't many members!)
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 21, 2016 14:11:22 GMT -5
Frozen It can be a bit challenging, but after a bit you'll get used to it. My advice is to ask yourself a few questions if you're struggling to get the minimum: What is the weather like? How does the weather feel? What are (character)'s thoughts about a recent event? What are their thoughts about something they just said, or something that was said to them? Generally, if you answer those questions and combine it with dialogue and character action, you should be okay. It might take a bit to get used to, but once you do you'll feel good about yourself, being able to do such things.
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Post by Frozen on Aug 21, 2016 14:12:56 GMT -5
That sounds good. I'll start working on my character's profile. I already have some ideas for an introductory post. I've written fanfics and such before, so it's not like I don't write much in general.)
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 21, 2016 14:17:34 GMT -5
You should be fine, then |
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Post by Frozen on Aug 21, 2016 14:29:20 GMT -5
Amberpaw is a pale ginger she-cat. Once your typical bouncy apprentice, the former ThunderClan cat has been hardened by the death of her family. She yearns for the life she once had, but knows that the chances of getting it back are slim to none. Amberpaw is quite serious and cautious, and rash behavior gets on her nerves - in which there is plenty to deal with in the form of Hootpaw. Despite this outlook, the old, kit-like part of herself will sometimes show in times of peace. With her blood family deceased, she is desperately trying to protect the rest of BadgerClan, willing to put her life on the line for them. She takes after Spiderleg, realizing just how important he is to her as her mentor and the only cat left from her past. If he is in danger, she will put him over her own safety. Amberpaw often throws herself into the heat of a battle or issue, thinking that she'll be able to find a way to solve it - whether it's by words or claws. However, this usually gets her in trouble, being only an apprentice. She isn't the most attentive cat, usually lost in her own thoughts, but she is working on it.
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 21, 2016 14:32:43 GMT -5
Amberpaw is a pale ginger she-cat. Once your typical bouncy apprentice, the former ThunderClan cat has been hardened by the death of her family. She yearns for the life she once had, but knows that the chances of getting it back are slim to none. Amberpaw is quite serious and cautious, and rash behavior gets on her nerves - in which there is plenty to deal with in the form of Hootpaw. Despite this outlook, the old, kit-like part of herself will sometimes show in times of peace. With her blood family deceased, she is desperately trying to protect the rest of BadgerClan, willing to put her life on the line for them. She takes after Spiderleg, realizing just how important he is to her as her mentor and the only cat left from her past. If he is in danger, she will put him over her own safety. Amberpaw often throws herself into the heat of a battle or issue, thinking that she'll be able to find a way to solve it - whether it's by words or claws. However, this usually gets her in trouble, being only an apprentice. She isn't the most attentive cat, usually lost in her own thoughts, but she is working on it. Looks good! You can start. |
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Post by Frozen on Aug 21, 2016 14:40:43 GMT -5
Thanks!)
Amberpaw was alone.
The apprentice was out hunting, looking for any kind of prey that could be lurking in the forest. It was rather quiet at camp, and with Spiderleg busy, she really didn't have much to do. Warriors always seem to do everything these days, she had thought as she left camp. And so here she was, deciding to spend her time doing something productive and helpful, something that would help BadgerClan survive the upcoming season.
Lost in thought, Amberpaw looked to the sky. She could feel leaf-fall just around the corner. The trees were already turning to various different colors, and this meant that prey would be starting to hibernate. It was time to take action before it was too late.
Amberpaw tasted the air, brightening as the scent of mouse came to her. Good, she thought, crouching as she saw it nibbling on a seed. She inched close and closer, so intent on the tasty meal in front of her that she failed to notice a fern waving in the wind. Her pelt brushed it, making it rattle, and the mouse was gone before her eyes. Mouse dung! she cursed, sitting up. It was completely quiet. Nothing but the whisper of leaves in the faint breeze. How come I didn't notice that?
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 21, 2016 14:56:08 GMT -5
FrozenKinkfur padded through the forest, a thrush swinging from her jaws. It felt unusual, to be in a territory beyond that of the Clans, to be hunting prey that wasn't ShadowClan prey. But alas, prey was prey, and she had a responsibility to her Clan. There were many mouths to be fed. Every morsel of prey counted. They told her that she could stop. They told her that she was an elder, and because of that her services weren't needed any more. Of course, those statements made her heart crack. To hear her Clanmates tell her that she was no longer needed was like stepping on a thousand thorns. It hurt like crazy. So she'd set out on a mission. A mission to prove to her Clan that she was still worth something. Just because her bones creaked a bit and her face was showing gray didn't mean she was useless. She could still hunt and fight. Perhaps she was a bit slower now, but slow did not mean vulnerable. She could hold her own, perhaps much better than some of the younger cats. The plague had not affected her as it had the others. She'd had no one to lose. No one meaningful, at least. Everyone she cared about seemed to drfit away after she retired. Nobody seemed interested in some old, quiet she-cat. As she walked, her mind set on returning to the BadgerClan camp, she heard a fern rustle. Her claws immediately slid out of their sheaths. An intruder? Her fur spiked up, her tail bushing to twice its normal size. All that went away, however, when the scent hit her nose. "Amberpaw!" she cried, dropping her thrush. "You near scared me half to death! What are you doing out here, all alone?" She tasted the air one more time, just to make sure. Sure enough, the young cat's scent was strong and potent.
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Post by Frozen on Aug 21, 2016 15:58:46 GMT -5
Amberpaw turned at the sound of Kinkfur's voice, momentarily wary of the broken silence. She faced the elder, guilt pricking at her pelt for a moment at the elder's comment. "Sorry, Kinkfur," she apologized hastily. Normally she'd try to justify her actions with any warrior, but elders held a lot more respect in her eyes. They had served the Clans before the sickness hit, and they held a legacy that just couldn't be replicated in any other cat. She just couldn't bring herself to be out of line with them. "All the warriors were busy working on other things... I couldn't find Spiderleg, either, so that was out of the picture... But I couldn't just sit around when our lives are at stake." she mewed quietly, giving a glance at the elder's catch. "So I wanted to hunt. Prey's going to be leaving soon, you know?" She suddenly wished she had caught that mouse. Now Kinkfur might send her back to camp.
She flicked her tail, quickly thinking of something. "Would you like to join me?" she asked, tasting the air again. One thrush simply wouldn't do, no. While she preferred hunting alone - less distractions and possibilities of noise distracting prey - the more cats hunting, the better. There were queens at camp who needed it. "If you don't mind, that is," she added hastily, flicking her ear.
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 22, 2016 19:10:29 GMT -5
Kinkfur chuckled. "I obviously have to, since I'm not about to send a young she-cat back out into the woods alone. Even if I do tell you to go back to camp, I know you'll just end up hunting anyway. I was young once, too. I remember all of the tricks." Even though she wanted Amberpaw to hear what she was saying and understand it, her eyes shimmered with amusement. Young cats were always so much fun to be around. Especially when they were so dedicated to the survival of their Clan.
For a moment, Kinkfur became lost in memory. She thought back to when she had been a ShadowClan apprentice. She had loved life, and life had loved her right back. She'd enjoyed every moment of her younger years, and regretted nothing. Perhaps that was why she was so hesitant to retire. Perhaps that was why being labeled as no longer useful bothered her so much. Normally, a warrior was content to serve no purpose once they retired. She, however, simply retired because her aching bones couldn't take being a full-time warrior any longer. Being a part-timer, however, was different.
Some cats called her a try-hard. She knew that. And that was okay. She was indeed a try-hard. She tried hard every day, working to ensure there was one more piece of fresh-kill, one more claw raised in battle. And right now, after everything that had happened, that kind of effort was needed more than it ever had been. As much as her Clanmates wouldn't admit it, they needed her, perhaps more than she needed them. She couldn't give them kits any longer, nor could she give them the strength and ability of a young cat. But she still had heart left to give.
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Post by Thrushmoon on Aug 22, 2016 19:51:52 GMT -5
I've never played one of these, but I think I'll give it a go. I'll take Pinenose, if she's still open, since she doesn't have a set personality and I get to play with her a bit, as well as Weaselfur.
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Post by Dᴀɴɴʏ Pʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ on Aug 22, 2016 19:54:14 GMT -5
Thrushmoon Sounds good! Just get them up when you can
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Post by Thrushmoon on Aug 22, 2016 20:18:45 GMT -5
Pinenose- a former Shadowclan she-cat, Pinenose is solid black with yellow green eyes. She's a bit scrawny now, with short, choppy fur and a torn ear. A former Shadowclan warrior, Pinenose had to watch as her family and beloved clan died around her, and as a cat who aspired to be the future leader to that clan, it felt like a smack in the face. She's a bit rude and crass, and doesn't get along well with former Thunderclan cats that well. She used to pick fights in the early days after the plague, as if fighting her fellow surviours would prove that she could've saved her clanmates. Now though, her fighting has stopped and in its place is a sharp tongue and and an even sharper attitude. She's hard on her new clanmates, because she has a fear, not that she'll admit it, that they'll all just die around her once again and she'll be powerless to prevent it.
Weaselfur- A stocky brown tom cat with white forepaws and green eyes. Weaselfur was a Riverclan warrior prided for his looks and swimming skills. His brown fur is thick and glossy, even post plague. However no matter how much his looks have stayed the same, he has become a completely different cat. Once proud and cocky, self assured in his looks and full of himself, now rests a quiet, contemplative cat. He often thinks back to Riverclan days and thinks, maybe if he did something different, maybe if he helped more, they would've made it through the plague with more surviours or avoided it entirely. He'll often stare at the stars as if looking for answers.
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