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.
On good nights, Matisclaw's dreams existed in a flash of inky black, devoid of light or substance that quickly led to bright morning light and the annoying shifting of her clanmates around her. On bad nights, she dreamed and rarely slept. Tonight was a bad night. In the depths of her mind, the she-cat walked along the dense jungle floor, a thin brown figure weaving her way gracefully through the thick undergrowth until the damp forest floor began to thicken, trapping her paws in a mire-like quicksand. And when her feet felt heavy, grasped in an unforgiving grip by the sucking mud, she could feel the dampness tingle along her fur, building with the thrum of her heartbeat as she fought, desperately, to free herself from what she knew was coming.
In her dream, she could smell the water. Stagnant. Sour. Like a foul breath. In the dream, she could feel it as it began bubbling up from the mud, roiling around her legs as it climbed. As it wet the fur on her belly. Then her sides. Then it covered her back completely. Mantisclaw raised her head, panting now into the air, eyes wide as she felt herself, held down.
She knew what was coming next. She always knew. But she couldn't stop the animal panic now. Couldn't stop the adrenaline in her veins. Couldn't stop the water flowing first into her mouth, metallic like blood, and then into her nose and her ears. Until she was submerged. Until she choked on it.
Mantisclaw woke in the middle of the night, on the cool outskirts of one of the warrior's dens with her side heaving, her limbs sprawled where she must have been kicking in her sleep. The panic still filled her veins, pumped in her blood, flooded her heart and her brain with the desire to breath air. So she stood, still shaky, and stumbled her way out to to the clearing. Mantisclaw collapsed into a tucked away corner, green eyes trained at the canopy of leaves. Beyond them was the great night sky. And stars. Slowly, the sounds of the jungle returned to her ears. The constant calling of insects and nocturnal animals, the gentle rustling of leaves. The she-cat breathed in slowly, tasting the familiar Jungleclan musk on her tongue.
I am alive, she reminded herself as she dug her claws into the earth. I am here.
tag: @artemis ooc: hope you don't mind an angsty lil set-up :'D
The night was cool, a much needed shift after a hot day. He couldn't imagine living anywhere other than the jungle. The sounds of the jungle at any time of the day sounded so alive and it was a constant source of energy for him. The jungle could be dangerous, it was always a risk to travel through - even the camp held a slight risk factor; but these things didn't bother him. Barracudabite wasn't one to fear death, in fact, he respected it. There was nothing surer in the world than the fact that one day they would all die, and he was sure that his time would come when it was destined to. There was no stopping what was destined.
[break][break]The lanky blue-gray tabby tom had been relishing the quietness of camp in the clearing just outside of the warrior's den. Most of the clan was sleeping but the tom had taken it upon himself to have an unofficial vigil - he found himself barely sleeping these days. There was no question that Barracudabite preferred to be awake when everyone else was asleep. The tom enjoyed his silence and would rather stay solitary than be surrounded by his peers in most scenarios. He was resting on the cool foliage of the clearing, ears pricked up as he listened to the lively sounds of the jungle. A breeze flowed through the camp, gently rustling the canopy above. Suddenly, though, he focused on a new sound that didn't fit in as usual.
[break][break]In the silvery moonlight of the dusk he caught the figure of a cat stumbling out of the warrior's den and collapsed into the opposite corner of the clearing from him. Clearly they hadn't noticed he was there, watching. The tom sighed inaudibly and flattened his ears against his head. Should he approach the other cat? They seemed distressed, but if he were being completely honest he would rather do anything than meddle in someone else's issues. It was only a matter of time until the unknown figure noticed him, though, and to avoid the awkwardness of the other warrior noticing he had witnessed the entire scene he decided to take matters into his own paws.
[break][break]Barracudabite stood up, stretching his long limbs out. He moved quietly, an expert at stealth. As he moved closer to the figure he began to make out the features of a familiar brown-and-white tabby she-cat. Mantisclaw? Was that her name? He pondered whether that was what she was called to himself as he approached. He could see her sides heaving heavily and could smell a dampness on her pelt - sweat? Fear? Barracudabite couldn't be sure. The blue-gray tabby greeted the she-cat softly, masking any thoughts with a neutral mask. "Good evening. Mantisclaw, isn't it?" He asked, blinking. He decided not to mention what he had seen or ask what had happened - should she choose to, she could volunteer that information up herself. He wasn't one to pry.
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And if I were you ( I wouldn't love me neither )
[attr="class","worldscollidebot3"] written for[break] frog
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yessss an angsty little setup for two angsty cats... i love it 8)
As the cool, earthy air filled her lungs, slowly, Mantisclaw's breathing began to even out. As she came down from her adrenaline high she could feel her limbs grow heavy, her body exhausted. In any case, the normally hyper-aware feline failed to notice the tom, too busy calming herself down with attempts to focus on the real, the concrete and expected around her that differed from her dream state.
Her ears flicked when his voice hit her, her body reacting instinctively. Her ears flattened against her skull. The fur on her back prickled. She hissed in surprise, fangs bared before the Jungleclan scent hit her nose and she reluctantly relaxed back into the dirt, her body language guarded.
How much had he seen? How much of her weakness? Embarrassed, Mantisclaw thrashed her tail and pointedly turned her face away. "What d'you want?" She growled, peeking at the tom from the corner of her green eyes. She didn't care for niceties, and at this point she didn't want to give him even more of an excuse to remember her. Mantisclaw liked to be that unknown face at the edge of the crowd. Thank the stars she was born with a plain brown pelt.
Even so, the she-cat recognized the tom. Barracudabite. A good warrior, if not aloof. He wasn't a part of her brother's circle anyway, which was the only element about this conversation that was bearable. It was hard not to recognize a cat with such distinctive features, from his pointed angular face to his eyes like clear pools of water, although she could barely make out the color now in the darkness of the night.
After the words had left his mouth he saw an immediate hostile reaction from the she-cat. Her ears flattened against her skull, the hairs on her back rising. A hiss escaped her as she bared her teeth in his direction. Once she realized it was not a foe, her aggressive body language changed from attack mode to guarded. Even still, she turned away and her words came out in a growl. Barracudabite scowled at her turned head, thrashing his tail from side-to-side. Why did he even bother? He should have left well enough alone. Once again it was proven to him that his lack of interest in others generally paid off. He should have stuck to what he knew best. Isolation.
[break][break]"Listen, I don't care what happened and I certainly don't want to talk about your feelings," He snarled back, a hint of disgust colouring his voice at the thought of mewling like kits over emotions with Mantisclaw. Somehow, though, she didn't strike him as the type to want to divulge into her feelings anyway. He blinked his blue eyes and let a soft yawn out of his pointed muzzle as he shrugged his shoulders lazily. "Just thought I ought to make sure you were alright so that some hungry creature in the night doesn't come crashing in here for a midnight meal." He added, giving her a pointed look.
[break][break]He didn't know Mantisclaw very well. She wasn't giving him much of an opportunity to get to know her, either - but he wasn't sure he wanted to. He kept himself distant from nearly everyone including his own family members. His siblings Minnowswarm and Pikeclaw even were kept at a tail length away. It wasn't personal. He just preferred to throw himself into work and avoid establishing meaningful connections. You know. The normal healthy kinda stuff. Barracudabite shrugged his shoulders again and began turning away. If she wanted to be left alone, he would most certainly oblige her.
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And if I were you ( I wouldn't love me neither )
[attr="class","worldscollidebot3"] written for[break] frog
Although Mantisclaw's face was turned away, her ears flicked, turned to catch every word that the tom murmured. Of course his reaction was to cop an attitude with her. As if she was somehow inconveniencing him. As if she was ruining his night. What did he expect? For her to bat her eyelashes and mew about how thankful she was he took an interest in her? No, not after the night she had.
"Oh thank the stars," Mantisclaw mewed, turning her face a few hairs towards him, to allow him to see the way that her green eyes rolled while the words dripped from her lips. "Here I was, afraid you were going to talk about feelings." Perhaps it was because it was a strange night, but Mantisclaw found herself bolder, more talkative than usual.
If it wasn't one of those nights, one of the nights when she was so completely unmoored from herself, as if a cat had battered her about the head, she probably would have ignored the silver tom, just glowered at him. But it felt good, to unleash some of the pain, the turmoil, the darkness in side of her onto the first cat who bothered to talk to her.
When he began to step away, Mantisclaw turned her head fully to watch him. "Oh? Well don't strain yourself. Wouldn't want to you to have to go to Anispine complaining how you pulled a muscle with all this self-sacrificing."
His words had at least garnered some sort of reaction out of her. The tom watched as she turned towards him a bit - more acknowledgement than she previously had shown him. Her green eyes rolled as the sarcastic words dripped from her mouth. He couldn't help but smirk at her. Before he could turn away entirely she turned her head fully to watch him. Barracudabite paused, the smirk on his face growing larger.
[break][break]The tom rolled his blue eyes in response to her. "Oh, don't worry a hair on your head. I wouldn't strain myself for you even had you asked." He mewed in response, eyes a twin pair of burning blue fires. Clearly the she-cat was in some sort of turmoil, and for a moment he felt bad. "I appreciate your spirit, though," He added, cocking his head to the side to study the tabby-and-white she-cat. He should probably walk away before she clawed him up, but something was telling him to stay.
[break][break]"Are you alright?" He asked, his tone a bit more serious than before. The cool breeze blew against his short pelt. The nights were cool, thankfully. The days had been getting hotter - but once the sun crept down into hiding the temperatures became more bearable. He wasn't quite ready to return to the stuffy warrior's den yet. If he had it his way he would probably sleep outside under the blinking stars.
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And if I were you ( I wouldn't love me neither )
[attr="class","worldscollidebot3"] written for[break] frog
When she turned to face him fully, she met his eyes and for a moment she simply stared into the bright blue, which seemed to glow even in the darkness of the shaded camp. While her words dripped with sarcasm, even a measure of humor, her eyes were still a dull, dark green, the humor, or whatever she had attempted when she spoke, not quite reaching them. They betrayed only a wall. A protective barrier, like a turtle having retreated into its shell.
"You appreciate my spirit?" She huffed. Her spirit. Barracudabite talked amost as if he knew her. But she supposed perhaps that was what her clanmates saw in her. An indomitable force. A survivor. Mantisclaw wanted to be that. She wanted to be someone who was strong, unbreakable and unbending, like the tallest tree in the jungle under the mightiest storm. But even trees fell. Branches were tossed too hard in the breeze and broke.
When his words turned serious, Mantisclaw retracted into herself a little more, her body language growing more guarded as she turned her face away. This was why she didn't like speaking to her clanmates. They were prying. "Why do you care? Do you need a fun tidbit of conversation for when you share tongues tomorrow?"
Mantisclaw couldn't help but remember her time as a kit, how it felt to have every eye on her. How hurt Dapplesplash had been when her involvement was questioned, when the kits were given up to a new queen. The talk. Tarantulahop claimed that no one cared about them as much as she thought they did, that she was just being paranoid, that it was okay to make friends and open up.
The truth was, Mantisclaw didn't care to trust. She didn't care to trust this tom. He was arrogant. Yes, surely that was it. He surely didn't care about what had happened, about the nightmares that plaguede her nights, about the way even rain set her on edge. He just thought he was owed her story. That's all.
When Mantisclaw stared at him for a few moments, he met the gaze - refusing to look away and break the stare. He couldn't see much in her eyes, though. If she was feeling anything other then the anger she put forward, it was hidden from him. Guarded. An impenetrable wall. He didn't care to break down walls for others. He had other things to spend his time on, and making friends was not one of his priorities. The she-cat huffed at his comment, but the tom just shrugged his shoulders. It was true. Despite whatever was going on with her, she was a hard worker. Tough. Unbreakable. That's what he respected about her.
[break][break]She threw up more walls at his inquiry, her face turning away. The grayish blue tom smirked at her words, shaking his head. Did she really think he cared enough about her story to gossip about it? As if he was a queen stuck in the nursery? He worked his hind end off for the clan, and it was extremely rare for him to be seen leisurely chatting to any of his clanmates. Not only did he not have time to, he didn't care for it. Small talk was pointless, it was so much easier to be direct and to the point.
[break][break]Barracudabite rolled his blue eyes, scoffing in her direction. "You really think I care enough to talk about you? You are nothing to me, not even a story." He replied coldly, his eyes a twin pair of burning blue icicles. "If you really think that I have the time to sit around the camp and tell tales like a senile old elder, you must be just as delusional as one of them. Perhaps you might have time to share tongues and share the morning gossip, but I will be out on the first patrol tomorrow morning." He lifted his chin up high instinctually.
[break][break]He almost felt bad for snapping back as harshly as he did, but it was somewhat deserved. If the she-cat wanted to be like that, he could be like that too. That's what he got for trying to care. He should keep professional as he usually did, caring opened up too much weak points. There was almost an art to the guardedness that Mantisclaw possessed. Secretly, he could respect that as well.
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And if I were you ( I wouldn't love me neither )
[attr="class","worldscollidebot3"] written for[break] frog
