09.30.2019 → There has been some exciting changes on CD lately! We've added a new monarchy to the groups of cats on the islands, as well as restructured the boards a bit to allow for some space - thus, redrawing the map! We've also promoted Nifty to Global Mod! There are some auditions open right now for JungleClan Deputy as well as for all of the new Kingdom of Mokuhau high ranks - Artemis
09.12.2019 → Unfortunately Elaedria is stepping down as administrator due to life being too busy to keep up! The site will be going through some restructuring in high ranks as well due to this. Effective immediately, the word count is now 100 minimum. Some more changes will be coming in the future - members have been emailed a survey to help us figure out what to change and how to get better. Thanks for your patience! - Artemis
WEATHER
Year 55, Scorching Sands 09.05.2019 → The temperatures of the islands are a steady 98° F on land/ high 80s in water. There is almost no breeze, the sun is uncomfortably warm.
Prey during the day is pretty scarce due to the heat, however is quite active after the sun goes down.
Lost in the dense jungles of scattered islands, facing perils unimagined by their ancestors, are three warrior groups - The traditional JungleClan, descendants of the original clans carried aboard a twoleg contraption from their home long ago and breaking new ground on old beliefs. Second, the curious TidalClan, made up of kittypets who chose to abandon their long since passed twoleg civilization ways for those of true felines. Lastly, the mysterious Tribe of Twisted Roots, hidden in the mist from others with their strange ways and a deeper knowledge of the land around them. Together they must learn how to take their fate into their own paws if they wish to survive this land of erupting mountains and roaring waters.
Join our crew and dive into an island-based Warriors roleplay - a twist on the original series by Erin Hunter. We are a semi-literate site with a minimum of 100 words per post.
Paws itching to get up to something, the large Tribe navigator had set her sights outside of the camp as soon as she had opened her eyes that morning. Fern had went on the dawn patrol, keeping up appearances, but her mind was a million miles away. She needed an adventure, something to get her adrenaline pumping, and make her feel alive. There weren’t many parts of the Tribe territory that she hadn’t scoured within an inch of her life, but there was one spot that she had always seemed to avoid. Perhaps it was the thought of getting her pelt wet, or simply because once she explored the shipwreck, there would be nothing new to excite her. But the urge was too great to ignore, and once the patrol was over, the large tabby she-cat had taken off, without so much as a whisper of her destination.
The sun beat down on her pelt, powering her strong strides, her bright eyes dancing with anticipation. Tail streaming behind her, she maneuvered through the territory she called home, and loved more than life itself, claws unsheathing instinctively over rough patches, igniting a fire within. A lone bird of prey seemed to race her, its’ call echoing in her ears, driving her forward, her gaze shooting up to gauge whether she was winning the race or not. As her paws struck sand, she came to a stop, her eyes following the birds flight, aching to join them, jealous of their freedom. To not be limited by the ground beneath her paws was both wondrous and terrifying, but she longed for it. Longed to know what was beyond the island, if there were other cats out there, or if this was all she would ever know. She craved more than what this life could give her.
Long after the bird was out of sight, Fern stayed there, her gaze dropping to the broken ship that jutted out of the water, whispering for her to come to it, explore it, to learn every piece of it. It drew her forward until her paws touched the water, eyes full of awe, but something stopped her. The same sense of adventure that carried her to this moment, coaxed her back to reality. This was dangerous, even for someone as fearless as her, and coming here alone was perhaps one of the stupider things she had done. But she couldn’t stop now. She was here, facing a challenge unlike any other, there was no turning back. Taking a deep breath, the large grey tabby took another step, but the sound of rustling behind her stopped her, her entire body on high alert now.
“Who’s there?” She called, turning away from the shipwreck, green eyes trying to locate the creature that had ruined her moment.
The shipwreck was a curious place to Monarch. Here, looking out at the horizon, there was no other hint of land. The ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by the strange structure itself. The sunken ship was unnatural, jutting against the water. It was the most permanent mark of their past and brought to life all the stories he was told when he was a kit. Their origins were not humble.
He had done his share of hunting this morning, and at times even the quartermaster tires of hunting. He decided to go for some extra exercise. The day was not nearly as hot as the past few. As he stepped toward the water, the sand shifted under his paws. Surely that would give away his location to any prey around here. But it was not prey that sensed him, it was one of his Tribemates. He was not alone at the shipwreck today.
It was Fern. Monarch remembered assigning her to dawn patrol, and was surprised she had traveled so quickly and so far after returning to the camp just this morning.
"It's Monarch," he said his name briskly. "I was just passing by. Did I startle you?"
To be honest, the water looked quite pleasant today, detracting from the usually ominous and intimidating shipwreck. He could use for a little exploring... if only his role and dignity as quartermaster did not stop him.
Even before he had spoken, the she-cat recognized him if for no other reason than his spotted tabby pelt. She suppressed a groan, her dreams of exploring the shipwreck dying at his presence. She feared little, but the scorn of the quartermaster was definitely near the top of her short list. A flicker of hope sparked in her mind, thinking of ways to convince him to join her, but they were all feeble. Her view of the older tom was limited by the patrols he assigned her, and what she saw in passing. Authority figures always rubbed her the wrong way, so she had done her best to avoid them, but like a thorn in the side, they always seemed to pop up at the most inopportune of times.
“No, not at all.” She chirped back, smiling as warmly as possible to hide her disappointment. “I just came out here to cool off a bit after the patrol! Not that it was too hard, or strenuous. I may or may not have ran here as soon as I got back, though.” Laughing lightly, she flicked her tail and looked back at the shipwreck longingly. Her wide green eyes studied it for a moment longer before she exited the water, the sand squishing beneath the pads of her paws and she stood to face the quartermaster once more.
“Is there something I can help you with? I ain’t doin’ anything important anyways.” Shrugging her shoulders, she cocked her head to the side, awaiting his response. Hopefully he really was just passing by and would soon carry on his way. Fern couldn’t help but wonder though, just what he would say if she voiced her desire for adventure. There was the chance that he would shoot her down, and tell her to use her head, but she couldn’t give up the hope that just maybe, he had a sense of adventure in him as well...
Peace was not a familiar concept to Monarch. In his short two years of life, he had hardly ever experienced such a wane in Tribe activities. He did not want to arrogantly attribute anything to his or Tempest's leadership, however. But peace was a thing that sure bored him as of now. His own life might have moved a little to quickly for him, not allowing him to enjoy time as a young Navigator. The shipwreck made him remember the days when he and Dragonfly would tirelessly get into trouble.
All that being said, Monarch was not quite the tom to be good at approaching she-cats, or approaching anyone for that matter. His appearance was usually met with grumbles or groans of annoyance. The Quartermaster's presence only ever meant one thing, more duties. Fern did not need to hide her disappointment for Monarch to know it.
"The weather's gotten more unpredictable and prey scarcer lately," he began awkwardly. Had he assigned Fern one too many? To be honest, he was much more keen on assigning the younger members patrol because they were much more eager and less grumpy than the older Navigators. "All I've been doing is patrols, patrols and more patrols. But I do think that it's rather boring. Hope you did not mind too much."
He dipped his head and was about to leave, acknowledging that he had probably interrupted in some way. But then he noticed Fern's gaze had shifted from the shipwreck to him. It looks like he was not the only one intrigued by that place. He flicked his tail at the looming structure ahead. "Ever been out there?"
There was something about the tom that seemed off. She had always envisioned in her mind that those who help positions of great power, were well, great and powerful. But from what Fern had seen, Monarch appeared to be the exact opposite. He was awkward, as if unsure how to carry himself around his Tribemates, and the large grey tabby found it rather endearing. Fern smiled warmly at him, if for no other reason than to ease his mind. She was young, and full of life, a few extra patrols weren’t going to change that.
“I wasn’t complaining, Monarch, really. I don’t mind helping out the Tribe. We’re all just trying to survive to the best of our abilities,” pausing, she took a step towards him and met his gaze, “so if that means I go on a few extra patrols to ensure that there is enough food for everyone, I’m OK with that.” Fern finished, keeping her gaze on his, to try and show that she didn’t mind, but then dropped it, concern that she was being a little too intense prickling her mind. As he dipped his head, she returned the favour and trotted back over to the water's edge, this time submerging herself up to her belly. “Hmm?” She shot back, surprised that he was still here. “Oh, no. I haven’t.” She responded wistfully, closing her eyes and breathing in the tang of saltwater. “It is the one place I have yet to explore, but maybe one day I will.” She spoke softly, unsure if she was even loud enough for him to hear. Sighing, she sat down in the water, soaking her fur up to her mid back, unsheathing her claws to give her grip among the rocks and sand. “What about you?” She called, cocking her head slightly, opening her pale green eyes once more.
Before he became quartermaster, Monarch himself had a similar vision of those in power. Like Fern, he had also envisioned that they were great and powerful. However, the moment he was appointed the position, everything changed. He was no longer so sure. No cat just instantly became great and powerful, and honestly Monarch was not so sure he looked or acted the part. "Really? You've never been?" Monarch exclaimed. Then he realized that cats likely had little reason to go there aside from sheer curiosity. Prey was plentiful in other areas of the island away from these alien-like, looming structures. Fern was probably unsure if embarking on such exploration was allowed. Monarch had not really considered that before, nor had the threat of retribution ever stopped him.
"I may have gotten stuck out there once when I was training was a Swabbie," Monarch admitted guiltily. "I certainly got chewed out once my father and mentor realized where I was and rescued me. Other than that, I've been a few times since... It's quite the place."
“You fancy a swim?” he waded into the water and flicked his tail toward the shipwreck. He tilted his head and gave her a questioning gaze. It was an invitation, really, rather than a giving of permission. Monarch hated that every cat felt obliged to ask his permission to do the littlest of things. "It's technically part of our territory, after all."
It wasn’t much, but the admittance of his adventures as a swabbie, made her feel closer to him. She had never cared to get to know him in the past, though she was beginning to realize that there was more to the leopard spotted Quartermaster than he let on. Fern let herself laugh as he continued, trying to imagine a young Monarch getting yelled at by his father. She had never really experienced any kind of punishment as a kit, and even as a swabbie, she paid her chastisements no mind. Selective hearing, she realized, a trait that had yet to leave her.
“So the path to power isn’t paved by following directions, I’m gonna keep that in mind.” She chided playfully as he strode up beside her, disturbing the water once more. She had never been the type of cat to want power, at least not over those around her. From what she had seen, it was an awfully lonely life. Furthermore, any friends that one had would always be clouded by not knowing if they were actually friends, or if they were just playing the part to gain favour. Nah, Fern enjoyed the company she kept, knowing that they chose to spend time with her because they chose it.
“Yes!” She exclaimed, leaping to her paws, spraying water with her large frame. “ Uh, I mean, sure.” Momentarily embarrassed by her outburst, the molly waded forward until the sea bed gave away, and with strong seasoned legs, began to propel herself towards the shipwreck. “Well let’s go slowpoke.” Fern teased over her shoulder, a touch out of breath already as the water sucked and pulled at her long pelt.
Well, if he hadn't guessed. Monarch thought to himself and his whiskers twitched in amusement, flinging salty seawater into his eyes. So there was adventure left for him. Despite being Quartermaster, he often loved the times where he was allowed to be young.
Short-furred and sleek, Monarch never had too many problems with drag in the water. After a few fox-lengths, he did notice Fern was having a significantly harder time with her longer pelt. "Yea, let's go slowpoke," he agreed, teasing lightly her choice of words. "It's about the view, anyway."
He actually knew little about Fern. During their Swabbie days, he heard plenty of gossip about her and Flower. But it was not like Monarch had had the energy to be interested. His father and mentor had kept him busy, possibly contributing to his lack of childhood friends. Monarch did not regret it; the extra training had gotten him where he was now. However, there were certainly parts of Tribe life he had wished he did not miss out on during his younger days.
“How have you and Wave been?” he asked, knowing they were friends but not knowing anything more. Might as well start a conversation if their swim was going to take a while. The water was quite soothing in the heat, and the ocean itself a relaxing view. Monarch tried, for once, to put aside his anxieties and duties.
A huge grin spread out over her features as the smaller tom teased her right back, relieved that he was letting go a little bit. It was one of the things she was good at; getting others to come out of their shells, and it usually worked quite well in her favour. There were of course, times when it backfired, but she was optimistic that she wouldn’t regret getting to know Monarch better. If anything, it would help her feel a little more comfortable if she found herself alone with him again. The chances of that were slim, but then again, anything was possible in the Tribe.
“We’re, uh, fine!” She responded quickly, not giving herself to really think of anything else to say. The longing she felt for that particular tom was something she chose to keep to herself, as Wave had never really shown the same interest in her. “You know how it goes, we’re both so busy all the time that we barely have time to make dirt in peace.” Fern quipped, trying to ignore the burning in her already fatigued muscles. She wasn’t the worst swimmer, but she also wasn’t the most skilled. Her long pelt made long swims difficult, and she felt envious of those who had short pelts like Monarch.
“This is nice, isn’t it?” She was growing increasingly out of breath, though she was breathing as she was taught to try and combat it. “Let’s just hope there aren’t hungry sharks milling about.” The she-cat said with mock horror, trying to keep up with the Quartermaster.
