Warrior Cat Clans 2 (WCC2 aka Classic) is a roleplay site inspired by the Warrior series by Erin Hunter. Whether you are a fan of the books or new to the Warrior cats world, WCC2 offers a diverse environment with over a decade’s worth of lore for you - and your characters - to explore. Join us today and become a part of our ongoing story!
News & Updates
11.06.2022 The site has been transformed into an archive. Thank you for all the memories here!
Here on Classic we understand that sometimes life can get difficult and we struggle. We may need to receive advice, vent, know that we are not alone in our difficult times, or even just have someone listen to what's going on in our lives. In light of these times, we have created the support threads below that are open to all of our members at any time.
NightClan are nocturnal creatures - they wake at dusk, work through the night, and go to their nests at dawn, when their cenote camp is flooded with brilliant red light and the song of morning birds has started in the pines above them.
NightClan cats are sardonic, intelligent, and all about self-preservation, more likely to sit on the sidelines and turn their coats for the predicted victor then throw themselves into an honourable battle. They were not especially known for their close-knittedness before Aspenstar began to drill it into them; but now, after her death, they have grown closer for two reasons: the uncertainty her half-finished training left them in, half-trained to rely on each other and blindly shuffling towards that goal without her guidance; and the trauma of her reign. Now, like never before, they have closed ranks. And Kier is about to tear them further apart than ever.
It's difficult to judge the morality of them. one might never have thought of them as villains before - but after Aspenstar's tyrannical reign, under which they became the feared oppressors of SummerClan and looked fit to continue their savage march onwards to unrelenting expansion, it's not quite so clear. Now, though NightClan, humiliated and left in tatters, is licking their wounds while SummerClan heals and rejoices - though they claim they were only following their leader's orders - will they truly be happy to turn away from what Aspenstar introduced them to?
Have they gotten a taste for power?
Will they turn their backs on the empire Aspenstar began - or will they court it further?
And most importantly, will they be able to survive Kier's impending reign at all? They think the worst is behind them. But now, with Aspenstar's disappearance, the little League cat who had been waiting in the wings is about to take centre stage.
SPECIAL RANKS
royal guard
In earlier times, the Loyal Guard were simply the leader's most trusted advisers and protectors. Their ranks held the most elite warriors of NightClan, protecting the leader even at the cost of their life, guarding prisoners, and given the honour of training apprentice pairs.
But under Kier's leadership, renamed the Royal Guard, they have become a type of secret police: they are groomed and chosen specifically for their devotion to him, do his dirty work, spy and bring information back, act as messengers, carry out interrogations, torture, and executions, and are expected to hold absolute loyalty to him over any ties or bonds to friends, family, or Clan. NightClan is irrelevant; there's only Kier. He has created an environment in which privilege and favour are the only ways in which you'll eat, prosper, and survive - and the Loyal Guard, as the most privileged, often exploit their position against the more vulnerable members of their Clan. Bullying, cruelty, and betrayal are encouraged.
Royal Guards are typically of the Superior class, and protect leader, deputy, and all members of the Royal class. The medicine cats may be protected, but their safety is less important. The head of the Royal Guard is currently Druzyprince.
royal physician A rank created by Kier for his mate as soon as he ascended to the throne, characteristic of his tendency towards favouritism and nepotism. The royal physician - really more a mad scientist with official approval - is given free rein and full resources to pursue and further their research.
They have no other tasks or expectations in the Clan; no NightClan cat can refuse their request to participate in their research, despite this usually meaning experimentation, maiming, and death; they will not be punished for taking subjects from other Clans, whether they be ally or enemy; and, given the rank is more an excuse to give his mate a high-ranking position than anything, the royal physician is the closest advisor to the leader, above the deputy and medicine cat, and often sits beside them at Clan meetings. Essentially, they're the tyrannical by-product of a tyrant.
RELIGION
Formerly one of the few remaining Clans to still worship StarClan, under Kier and Snowblister's leadership they have outgrown them. But to keep the Clan ignorant and in line, the pretence of StarClan worship is still upheld; the Medicine Cat and Apprentice are encouraged, to put it lightly, to receive and interpret omens that favour Kier and his reign, and to lie to the Clan. They are little more than prophetic puppets, installed as yet another deception about Kier's divine right to rule.
ALLIES
none
ENEMIES
summerclan ☆ Though most NightClan are too focused on their own current suffering to even remember their occupation of SummerClan, SummerClan hasn't forgotten, and they haven't forgiven.
primal instinct ☆ After Kier's sister, the Warden's assassin, caused the miscarriage of his and his mate's kits, he kidnapped her, tortured her, and is currently holding her prisoner. He and his mate swore vengeance on the League and they won't stop until they've toppled and ruined them. More will unfold in the near future. For now, they're NightClan's greatest enemy.
right now, everyone
PELT COLOURS
Dark pelt colours - black, brown, and grey - are most common, to blend in with their night-time environment. Block-colour pelts are also among the most prominent; tabby coats are less so. Pale coats are rarer, as they are easily spotted in the dark.
Difficult to find: Oak leaves, ash tree seeds and shoots, alder tree bark, willow, poppy seeds, marigold, heather nectar, blessed thistle, rosemary.
NightClan-specific remedy: Pine needles - for aching joints or chest congestion, soak pine needles in a still body of water, creating a bath, and have the patient lie in it. It works best if the water is warm or even hot; this can be found in SunClan’s territory and at the hot springs north-east of camp.
THE TERRITORY
NightClan lives in a damp pine forest, a mixture of human-planted conifer plantations reclaimed by the wild, with dirt tracks winding through them, and wild-grown pines. The Western border falls off into a steep, menacing cliff, with pine forests stretching out as far as the eye can see beyond the drop. Numerous rivers make their way through the territory, some more dangerous than others.
THE CAMP
NightClan dwells in a subterranean cave, part of a cenote filled with salt-heavy turquoise water. The camp is reached by a narrow stone path, bordered on both sides by solid rock, that descends from the surface (middle top of the image). Moonlight filters in through the mouth of the cenote, but the cave is still dark and damp - just as NightClan cats prefer it. There are countless rocks and climbing places - apprentices especially challenge each other to rock-climbing on the walls and the numerous stalagmites growing up from the cave floor - and one in particular, reaching upward in the middle of a rounded cavern with moonlight pooling upon it, is where the leader addresses the Clan.
The water isn't good for drinking, but the braver cats don't shy away from swimming; as such, NightClan cats will often have a fine layer of salty silt in their fur.
THE LEADER'S DEN
Situated off the main cavern, behind the tower of rock from which the leader addresses the Clan; it contains its own pool of fresh water - the only one in camp; the rest of the Clan has to go above ground to find water - and the leader sleeps at the top of the rocky mound. It's accessed through a low entrance that opens into a towering cave. The den was relocated here after Aspenstar's disappearance; the previous one wasn't grand enough for Kier's liking.
THE MEDICINE DEN
Located off the main cavern, beside the leader's cave. There are separate nooks for herb storage, an operating table of sorts crafted from a flat slab of stone, and for the medicine cat and their apprentice to sleep in.
CAMP, CONTINUED
The further you get into the cave, the lower the ceiling, the darker it becomes, and the eerier it gets. Only the most foolhardy apprentices go there on dares. There is a secret way out of camp through a twisting tunnel that only NightClan cats know.
THE PRISONS
The main prison lies in an offshoot of the main cavern, down a short stone corridor. It's damp, cold, and barren. The particularly severe traitors are put in a separate prison beneath the cavern, often called the dungeon. It's pitch black, small, and accessed by a tight squeeze through a cleft in the rock. Both the regular prisons and the dungeon are guarded day and night by Executioners and the Royal Guard.
OTHER TERRITORY FEATURES:
☆ Old, overgrown wooden railway track on the side of a hill
☆ Old, stone bridge across one of the many rivers; one of the few that hasn't completely crumbled from the moisture of NightClan's air. There's an old watermill beside it
☆ Dilapidated tree house with accompanying swinging wooden walkways between the trees
☆ Mystical stone circle at the edge of the woods; you might see a ghost or two on a cold, misty, moonlit night
☆ Underground waterfall and beautiful, salty blue waterways, accessed by the mostly-collapsed tunnels leading away from the cenote camp. Take care; the water is uncommonly deep, despite its clear, peaceful appearance, and more than one kit has been lost to it over the years
☆ Abandoned twoleg cottage with an overgrown garden and a pond in an old, humid greenhouse; excellent for finding especially strong herbs at
☆ Old, ruined church with most of its roof missing and a graveyard
☆ Empty (hopefully) bear cave
☆ Second abandoned railway track with wooden sleepers leading through a cave and into a tunnel in the hillside; being a disused mining tunnel that leads deep, deep into the cliff and earth, it's far smaller than the railway track meant for carrying passengers - and far more dangerous. Old equipment litters the seemingly endless tunnels - be careful down there; it's easy to lose the way out
☆ Shallow, pebbly waterway in a mossy canyon
☆ Ancient Roman bath house, long since fallen to ruin and forgotten by modern twolegs; the forest has reclaimed it, and there are hosts of secrets to be found within
☆ Beyond the Northern waterfall, into rogue territory, lies the lonely thunderpath - a vast, desolate highway bordered by towering redwoods and seemingly in an eternal swath of dark mist. Every so often a car will drive past with its headlights cutting through the fog, but all it does is beg the question: is it scarier when there is the danger of twolegs upon it, or when it's empty? What lurks beyond the mist when you're alone?
☆ Old twoleg paths winding between the plantation rows, covered by fallen logs
☆ Far atop the treeline, almost always bathed in mist, stands the ruins of a castle. It's scarcely visible from the ground — it stands so high on a hill that it hardly seems to be of this world. It's a cold, ivy-coated place, as romantic as it is haunted.
☆ As the damp, dark pine forest of NightClan gives way to the desert of SunClan in the East, the land becomes drier and more rocky, filled with red rock canyons and pools.
☆ Kier and Snowblister have introduced a sycophantic, dangerous class system: Superiors, Inferiors, Reporters, and Executioners.
☆ The Loyal Guard has been renamed The Royal Guard, and its numbers are smaller than ever. A youngling from the League, the as-yet unknown son of Bermondsey E'tan, has sought shelter with NightClan and been made the most senior Royal Guard at the age of only an apprentice and with no experience. Even with his identity unknown, this blind favouritism and potential for instability is sure to create conflict and discontent amongst the ranks.
PLOT
#1: NightClan has launched a sneak attack on the League, slaughtering indiscriminately with poison and claws to wreak terror and send a message: this is the start of war. Big things are to come, direct results of this. Join in HERE! You'll be helping to shape NightClan's story and future and directly contributing to the plots that will unfold from these actions; much could still happen! If you'd like a summary of what's happened so far, message fox or gold!
#2: NightClan's second open trial has begun, putting former Loyal Guard member Primrosetuft up on the podium, but she doesn't seem too keen to defend herself.
Your cat can participate either as a witness or an audience member HERE! If you have a kit or apprentice you want to promote into a warrior, this counts as their assessment.
TRAINING GROUPS & CLASSES
"Do not look longingly to thy home. Do not say 'my mother is there. My father is there.' We are thy home now."
In lieu of warrior training, all kits and apprentices will be forced to take classes with Snowblister to speed up indoctrination. Classes are cruel, occasionally physically punishing sermons and mock treason trials intended to break their spirit and improve the desired character. Absolute loyalty to Kier is demanded. To progress to warrior and achieve their final role of Superior, Inferior, Reporter or Executioner, they must participate in a real trial.
Class groups, taught by Snowblister and select Superiors and overseen by Kier, will be formed soon.
A slight, skinny black tom with seething grey eyes. He's bony, weak, and has large fennec fox ears. All his life, he’s been underestimated and cast aside, a lackey to his perfect sister and a punching bag to his charismatic brother. His short pelt is littered with scars and he’s developed a hunched way of standing and walking, having learned making himself small and insignificant is the best way to weasel his way out of his brother’s sadistic cruelties. But none of this has left him merciful or gentle; it’s turned him slimy and toady, submissive on the surface and venomously jealous on the inside, a tinderbox waiting to ignite. Far from the injustices of his youth making him insecure, he’s a latent narcissist, believing himself above everyone around him. He hates his brother viciously and resents his sister. Though both his siblings believe him to be stupid, he’s uniquely gifted at twisting illusion and reality, rumour and misunderstanding, deception and truth - with useless claws and no fighting skill to speak of, he’s learned, quietly, that his best weapon is the words he can twist and poison. He’s a bit of a yandere and is good at gaslighting, though he perhaps believes himself to be a little cleverer than he actually is. Once he fixates his attentions on you, you’d best run. He has a nervous twitch that comes out when he’s particularly riled up or excited by his own scheming; it mainly affects his head. His voice is quiet and obsequious, often fawning, though he has a deadpan, biting sense of humour when his true self occasionally slips through the snivelling veneer. Violence and cruelty inflicted on others by others - especially the drawn-out, slow kind - send a quiver up his spine; they’re the finest foreplay, and he loves to watch. He considers everyone around him to be base and stupid, driven by some instinct he himself is above and easy to manipulate. His treatment of friends and family forms the tragedy of all their lives; they trust him, and he holds them in contempt. He can be quiet, head bowed, strategically dumbing himself down; and, mostly while alone, he can be psychopathically unhinged and acidicly jealous, at times possessing a special brand of dramatic, incendiary flair. He loves to line metaphorical dominoes up in a row and see how they fall, watching with a darting-eyed sort of reverent glee. In a word, he’s brutal precisely because he looks so submissive and harmless. He has the true makings of a killer about him. When still only a trainee, he preyed on Aspenstar's growing paranoia and won himself the deputyship of NightClan for the price of murdering the son of one of the League's oldest bloodlines: his father. An Iago, but maybe this time he slips out into the streets of Cyprus and leaves the carnage upon the bed.
DEPUTY played by goldcrest
SNOWBLISTER the haunted
CLASS: SUPERIOR
mate: none
kits: none
Heavy weighs the guilty mind, and Snowblister’s pale blue eyes are especially haunted. It was an accident, just not the type she told everyone about — her sister didn’t trip into the water, unfortunate enough to not know how to swim. She was pushed, a detrimental, playful shove, still an accident, but a secret she will carry to the grave. An act of evil that had permanently stained her world view. Nothing was quite the same after that; her shadow isn’t hers, it is small and dainty, and holds the youthfulness and size of a kit. Occasionally, out of the corner of her eye, she sees shadows as tall as mountains, all pointed ears and teeth and not much else, but when she points either of these things out, she is met with confused, concerned looks. Her white fur is messy, wind-turned and ruffled, and she comes across as usually poetic, excitable, almost gleeful, though her gray-pointed face is strangely drawn, there is a pessimistic tone to her words, and she can be rather cruel, because she has already done the worst and there is nothing quite below that. Snowblister can’t seem to figure out who she’s supposed to be, she is a contradiction of herself, acting one way for a moment and another the next. Eager to do good, to make up for what she’s done, she has also accepted that the possibility is unlikely, that she is evil to her roots, and it's something she can’t ever escape from. Her corrupted view of herself bleeds into the world around her — she believes that nobody is capable of truly being good, that there is always underlying evil, that nobody can be pure of heart. There is not one person she fully trusts, and those she grows close too are often dropped soon after, for fear she will corrupt them more. She believes she must save everyone from themselves, has burdened herself with the responsibility for a problem she made up herself. Her own guilt has misguided her, all her attempts to free others has only been an attempt to free herself.
MEDICINE CAT played by bauble
TWILIGHTDANCE
CLASS: SUPERIOR
When the owl calls and the mother’s usher their children in for the night, at that hour when the blue fades to the most black, when the stars take their place and twinkle in their casings so brightly that they look as if they could be picked like diamonds from that great canvas of the sky... that hour that draws the breath in with its sublimity. That’s the hour when her soul stirs, when she arcs her head to the heavens and captures that last orange of the sun, crushed and ebbing away, like the spirit of the cat she once was... wild and free. In its place comes the enveloping darkness, still, tranquil, polished in its beauty, and lovely to behold. She sees herself reflected in that image: her fur is middling length, a perfect black texture groomed to a sheen. The darkness is broken by stark white spots that dot the length of her back and shoulders, and crawl up her dainty front legs. Her mother called her Reinette, little queen, and it was her that ensured that she lived up to the name. Wrinkle your nose when you smile. Tip your head when you’re asked a question… just like that. Tuck your paws when you eat. Countless lessons have crafted her into a faultless creature of graces, almost impossible to offend, a joy to be around, and ever the pleaser. But as she searches that twilight sky, the dreams of her mother feel like chains rather than wings. Just as the tranquil night beckons the beasts who come bumping underneath the starlight, darker elements stir in her soul, fighting their restraints.
MEDICINE CAT APP. played by ash
BLISSKIT
CLASS: REPORTER
ROYAL PHYSICIAN played by goldcrest
ERIS
CLASS: ROYAL
mate: Kier (fox)
kits: expecting (with Kier)
Insanity (n.) extreme foolishness or irrationality; when she looks at those around her, Eris doesn’t see a life worth respecting — they are all stepping stones, things to be used, obstacles and opportunities. She would be the bright, social kind had she not held a cruelty. She stands on the blurred lines of reality and whatever it is she’s made up in her own head, the science of how the world works intrigues her, and yet she believes she can bend it to her will, turn the natural unnatural, break and put life back together again. She is driven by curiosity, an eager, passionate nature, and an eerily persistent optimism. She laughs in the face of others' tragedies. Reckless, intense, disturbingly creative. Insanity (n.) the act of doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results; she’d always been drawn to the gravestones in her old family’s backyard, the way flies were drawn to the remains of her meals that she would leave out, how their corpses deteriorated like they were melting. It's own little ecosystem. Eris wants to do something, and so she does — except she isn’t quite sure what it is she wants, but she continues anyway, inflicting pain and chaos on those around her as if it were a game. A game where only she knows the rules, where she can make them up on the spot, where she always ends up on top. They call her the mad doctor, for when one is called into her office they don’t tend to see the light of day again, not as they used to. Everything is a puzzle and she works tirelessly to solve it, but if it’s completed her life will no longer have any worth to it, and so she drags it out, finds new things to focus on and leaves old things unanswered, double, triple checks the things she’s done just to make sure she hasn’t missed anything. It speaks of vulnerability, a deep-rooted insecurity that she would never admit to. Infatuated, innovative, wild. With a small frame, thin, wiry brown fur with dark stripes that appear almost carved in, her wide, sunken yellow eyes, and the splashes of white across her muzzle, chest, stomach, and paws, one would do no good to view her in the light of the innocent. She doesn’t take kindly to those who underestimate her. A look closer would reveal the glint in her eye, the way her paws have faded blood stains from all the experiments she’s discarded, the way her smile is too crazed to be joyful. Illness hangs off her like an oversized coat, often she’s subjected to bouts of colds or the flu, and she isn’t good at remembering when to eat, or drink, or sleep. Eris wouldn’t call herself insane; hunger drives people to terrible things, and she is starving for knowledge.
THE RANKS
THE ROYAL GUARD your occupation's the salvation of the hearse trade
NOTE: Former Loyal Guards who refused to swear devotion to Kier have been demoted, put on trial, and executed; sycophants are to be promoted. Start grovelling.
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DRUZYPRINCE CLASS: ROYAL roleplayed by goldcrest There was a part of himself he left behind, with the lives of his sisters, his mother, his father; the softness, the anxiety, the thirst for useless knowledge and the arrogance. He was not supposed to be feeling, he was not supposed to be attached. Only the first few moons of his life were spent in priceless luxury and innocence, the rest he was trained as a soldier, a killer, a bodyguard, and a devotee. He holds himself taut and intimidating, with thin, wiry gray fur and narrowed green eyes, always set in a scowl, but truly he is a softie underneath. He likes books, he likes learning, he’s clumsy, he’s good-natured, and yet it is all something he has hidden for the benefit of others, for those things wouldn’t get him far in the path his paws were set on. The Prince, son of the E’tan and a two-time proxy, their shoes were always much too big to fill, and he always found himself fumbling in their tracks, and with the looming of a familial curse he sought external help. The devil's tongue was a silvery, tricky thing, promising to teach him, to build him, to help him, and he couldn't be denied; beholden ever since, he developed somewhat a reliance. He was nothing without the serpent in his ear. For the most part, Druzyprince keeps to himself, a solitary, quiet tom who, despite his apparent confidence and intelligence, fumbles in social situations, though he wouldn’t shy away if anyone asked him to explain something — he likes teaching as much as he likes learning, but he’s always been the student, the follower — and he has a certain snarkiness to him, sardonic jokes and sarcastic quips here and there, the occasional willful arrogance, still believing he, in some part, is better despite it being drilled into his head otherwise. His face has a particular triangular shape, with a set scowl on his sloped features and wide, large ears that still seem too big for him, despite his stature.
SAGEBRISTLE CLASS: SUPERIOR roleplayed by sunlight If all we are is a composition of memories, what happens when those memories are gone? When the physical remains the same but the mental has been burned away, what kind of creature can be formed from the ashes? Sagebristle was Aspenstar's Loyal Guard, was a mate and mother in the old Nightclan, was Kier's staunchest opposition when the takeover happened. All the remains of her now is a shell, a resurrected Royal Guard and guard dog for her former enemy. A head wound stole her fire, left her pliable, murky, desperate for meaning and memory. The small, lean russet tabby is different from the hot-headed warrior she used to be, as anyone who remains from the old regime could tell you, but she doesn't know it. She doesn't know much at all, really, apart from the lies she's been fed and the loyalty that's been kindled for her leader.
SPEEDYRAPTOR CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by fox A pale, creamy vanilla-ginger tom with pretty blue eyes and a white chin. He’s gorgeous and he knows it, and it’s only served to make him utterly insufferable. He’s snappish, short-tempered, and spoiled, the mean track-star who thinks he’s more popular than he is and then gets vindictively annoyed when he’s out of the loop or laughed at. He’s unscrupulous and has a much higher opinion of his abilities than is warranted by reality, the dream henchman of any villain who will carry out awful deeds without pity, the one to guard hostages with determined, self-obsessed silence and then run back to his master to make sure he did a good job. He has his eye on the top position — the crown, doesn’t matter which — but if he did manage to bumble his way there with sycophantry and brutality, the lackey turned ruler, he would be worse than purely tyrannical: he would be incompetent. He pretends to like scary, manly things like spiders and monsters and haunted houses, and then if something actually touches his paw he squeals and cowers. He can be slimily charming, but not slimy because he’s so full of confidence — slimy precisely because he’s not, because he knows he’s not as wonderful as he makes himself out to be and will take what he can get in his insecurity. But that never stops him from aspiring higher. He’s mean, spiteful, and immature, the sort to have genuine beef with a five year old. His pretty features are often ruined by a sneer. Argumentative, stubborn, loud, and often obtuse; the first to leap up and favour war for any tiny slight. But he can be uncommonly gentle, as eager to heap pleasure and praise as he is to receive it — he just loves to be of service, to be of us — and as steadfastly loyal to those he truly feels devotion for as he is a shameless turncoat for everyone else. He’s always fawning to those in power one minute for any scrap of special privilege and seeking to make himself indispensable, often through humiliating and degrading means. Anything is worth it if it gets him ahead. Though a sycophant, he’s remarkably poor at social cues and finer, more delicate situations that require diplomacy over teeth. His parents were executed as rebel traitors and he completely disowned them upon their death, too frightened and desperate to survive to do anything else; it’s something that he’s repressed incredibly deep, so deep that even he has himself convinced he feels nothing for them. Eager to prove it, he often makes crass, uncomfortable, poorly-timed jokes at the expense of his dead mother and father, desperate for approval and for laughter. He’s eager to be fulfil the expectations of a tom in NightClan — father kits with any nameless, willing girl and move up the ranks — but truthfully he has no problem with she-cats and his misogyny is clumsy and contrived; even after one night stands, he’s the type to stay for pillow talk, sweetly, slightly uncertainly doting, all ducked smiles and dumb jokes. Even after something meant to be meaningless, he still wants to bond. Though a warrior, he’s a very young one, and outside NightClan he would still be in the middle of his apprenticeship. He thinks his smile is ugly. Heavily inspired by Berrynose.
MOONBLIGHT roleplayed by ACHROMATIC The moon has many faces, and Moonblight is no different. He has a face for his friends, a face for those in authority, and a face for only himself. Despite his own desire to seem fearless and proud, it's hard to see Moonblight as anything other than the fluffy cat with a face like an angel. Pelt dappled with mottled greys and cream patches on a bed of white fur, it's clear why he was named after the moon. His amber eyes are bright and clever, always looking for some mischief to get into. A silvertongue with a way with words, he seems to always find his way into trouble and out before anyone even realizes. Growing up, he never really knew who his parents were, only that his father was a grey cat, just like himself with a name that didn't sound like it came from the clans, and whispers about their cursed lineage. At five moons, he found himself in MoonClan with nothing, not even his name. He had changed it the moment he arrived in order to fit into the clan better. That was it, wasn't it? To fit in. He's learned how to keep his thoughts and his feelings to himself, presenting his outer face as whatever others need him to be. He'll be happy with those who want to have fun, somber with the serious, sly with the mischievous, so much that he barely remembers who he is on the inside anymore. He's competitive, striving for attention and the adoration of others, having little attention given to him as a kit. What he truly strives for is change; he sees life as phases similar to the moon, and if one part doesn't fit, he exchanges it for another, searching for what his heart truly wants, acceptance. MATE: Sagebristle
WARRIORS
NOTE: If a warrior falls pregnant, she will be strongly discouraged from returning to warrior status once her kits are weaned; Kier believes a she-cat’s place is in the nursery. To be re-promoted, they must seek a private audience with him.
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ARIDCOLORS CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by unknownhearts The desert is known for going moons, only having two rainy seasons a year. Yet the plants and the animals that call it home have adapted to it, suddenly only able to thrive if kept in this wasteland or in conditions similar. A remarkable showing of strength and resilience, Aridcolors would not call herself similar to her namesake at all. Despite the fact that she is still standing. Rather tall, admittedly. She's a gangly brown tabby she-cat, with ears that seem too big for her head. Her coat is short and a bit too light colored for Nightclan standards, but it's made up for with darker tabby stripes like grass shadows. Her eyes are a similar light brown color, like dead weeds on the side of the road. Quite like Arid herself. Like a weed, she keeps coming back, even if no one in particular wants her around. She's soft spoken, mostly keeping to herself since she doesn't really know how to get along with others. It doesn't help that her personality is that of wet cardboard. There's little there; few interests, desires, goals, even things she hates. Arid appears to be indifferent to everything around her, even to the rapid changes to Nightclan that have happened. She's go with the flow, but to her own detriment. The kind of cat that will follow someone just because they were told to. Consistently playing the straight man in any group, she tends to take things too literally. Sometimes she pipes up with something, a bit more spicy or forceful than usual, that threatens to show something under the surface. But those roots are buried deep underground, only a steady hand could consider unearthing them.
APOLLOLYRE CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by Dot A tripod golden bengal tabby mix tom with yellow green eyes. Formerly went by the name Loxias. He used to be Finnbar's right hand man when he lived in Primal Instinct. Kept the rest of the boys in his group in line, but paid very little attention to Arwen. He carried out Finnbar's commands and would even rough of the few souls that would He's has a rather quick reaction time. He tends to get himself in sticky situations and comes up with creative solutions to get himself out of them. He absolutely hates the water since he cannot swim and refuses to learn how. He is very afraid of drowning he is also afraid of fish because they freak him out. While he can be a smooth talker some of the time, he gets tongue twisted when talking to a she-cat he actually likes. Is a cinnamon roll but refuses to admit he is a cinnamon roll an tries to keep up the tough guy act.
BEARSPOTS CLASS: EXECUTIONER roleplayed by Enderwoxxu He's a muscular brown spotted Tom with yellow eyes, he looks like a temible cat who will hurt you at anytime with only a bad move and killing you with only one paw, that was what his parent think only seeing him at the first sight but he grow up of other way, he don't like trouble and killing other cats, he likes making jokes and being in a good mood it is very rarely to see him angry or mad with someone even with his sister who is all the time making his life hard but he see impossible to raise his voice.
CRIMSONFANG CLASS: EXECUTIONER roleplayed by nightshade A large muddy brown tom cat with angled green eyes and a permanently angry look plastered to his face, Crimsonfang always looks like he's ready to fight. He was always large for his age, excelling in fighting from early on, though his size made hunting a bit more of a challenge. He didn't take many of his other duties very seriously, dedicating most of his time to perfecting the best ways to rake his claws down the stomach of another. He made sure early on to establish a reputation among others, he wasn't going to let anyone get in his way or get better than him. He was always very competitive and when he did lose, it often resulted in an altercation later in the day, both parties coming back scratched and beaten, but a smile still decorating his face as the other cat limped to the medicine cat den. He's excellent at taking orders and knows how to suppress his feelings when it comes to what needs to be done for the clan, while he is very competitive he understands how to use it for the good of the clan and tries his hardest not to let his pride get in the way.
DUSKHAUNTING CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by goldcrest Twilight is when the sun sinks, when the rays hit the earth one final time, as if its last breath, and the sky is blue, gold, and pink. Dusk is the time after that, when only a hint of the hues that once were remaining in the aftermath. The shadows are longer with the reminiscent light, it’s dark and gloomy. She’s always been attached to it, not only because it was her namesake, but because she liked the quiet, dull atmosphere, the solitude it seemed to bring. Duskhaunting’s fur is a dusty, pale brown, leading to bold, darker shades of chocolate brown edging her face, her ears, and the tips of her front paws. Her eyes are reflective of the dying sun, a deep, dim yellow, carrying the darkness of her childhood and the memories she is forced to live with. Haunted, for that same look, haunted for the fact that she seems to bring bad luck wherever she goes, that it doesn’t matter who she gets close to, they are always taken too quickly from her grip. It led to a confusing clinginess and need to keep her distant, of hating being alone and feeling it’s the only thing that seems to work out. She’s pessimistic, gloomy, and cold, though not entirely unkind. Truthfully, she has a fearful aversion of violence, edging on a phobia, and can’t stand the thought of blood or raising her claws against another. She hates the feeling of her own, and so she bites them as short as she can get them and resists the urge to pull them out. She’s attempted to be vegan once — it didn’t work out. Her anger and bitterness festers, she takes the world around her as if they were enemies, and acts of kindness are hard to trust. Her features are worn, she always looks tired, most inconveniences are met with a long, shaky sigh and a slight shake of her head, as if she expected it all to happen but was still disappointed anyway. She anticipates nothing short of disaster at all times. EVENTHORIZON CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by ian At the center of a black hole exists a point where the escape velocity is faster than the speed of light. In layman's terms, it's the horizon beyond which one cannot sea. Within it, you can find the singularity, a point so dense that the laws of physics breaks down. In other words, to truly embrace the impossible, one must go past the point of no return. Eventhorizon's fur is as dark as the black hole in which she was named after, her eyes silvery white like the light that orbits it. One often sees a black hole as a mystery, as the violence that the universe is based on, yet it exists at the center of galaxies, the largest formed by quasars we didn't know once existed. She's mysterious, the kind of cat who observes first and acts later, but she has that gravitational pull, her mystery doesn't result in aloofness; rather, she's kind when it matters. She's empathetic to others' struggles and their problems, the kind of cat who listens and tries to give advice, but she's also a cat who rarely lets others sway her decisions. Stubborn to a fault, it's others that get eaten up by her gravity, not the other way around. She understands the value of her choices, and understands that in some cases, sacrifices must be made. Her moral backbone–however different it may be to what's right–hardens in the face of adversity, and at the end of the day, she's willing to go past the point of no return and bend the laws of physics to do what needs to be done.
FALCONFRIGHT CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by AmongtheFallen Her pelt melts into the red-hued light of NightClan territory. It's of medium length and painted in rust and russet shades. Her tail is fluffy, but again, not long hair. Her dark exterior is contrasted by her brilliant light green eyes. Atop her head is a little bit of brown so dark that it could easily be mistaken for black at first glance. Her name does not deceive her. She isn't the most pleasant feline to be around but also not the worst company. She is known for her vicious tongue and even sharper wit and claws. She is easily angered, but she is good at her class placement as a reporter. She is silent and observant. She doesn't go out of her way to make conversation because she would much rather listen to the rumors and conspiracies brought about from her clanmates. If someone wishes to know something then she is the she-cat to go to. She has a knack for obtaining information, and she enjoys serving as a spy of the sorts for her clanmates. She loves the conflicts that arise from the drama, but should that make her a bad girl for looking for some entertainment?
GRAYJAW CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by Brackenleaf A mostly black tom with a gray muzzle. Denies the self to serve the greater, because he must maintain the disconnect that this is the way things must be. Life to him is transactional, there must be a give and a take and he will give more than is necessary to ensure his own share in return. Keeps a watchful eye; very practical and pragmatic.
HOLLOWMOON CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by eventide The crimes they committed against SummerClan...the destruction they left in their wake. Was this their punishment? Was this the bed they made to lie in? Hollowmoon was only a young apprentice when they went on their war-torn rampage, leaving only carnage and chaos in their wake. Was she only enough to know better? Perhaps, but she was still a child yet and was easily swayed by the impassioned cried of her clanmates. Trapped between one indoctrination and another, where is there to turn for the Siamese she-cat? Each day is met with a too-strained smile, one crack away from shattering entirely. What can be reformed from the broken pottery of her soul? And, more importantly, who will rebuild her? Hollowmoon is in a life-or-death struggle for her very being, and even the most docile of cats can turn feral when threatened. Her form is fluffy, protecting her from the cold, damp nights in their territory, and her eyes are a pale blue the color of the sky as the sun begins to blush on the horizon. Her most stunning trait, however, are two vertical stripes beneath her eyes as though the silent tears she's cried her whole life have worn away the color of her pelt the way the water in their cenote camp wears away at the stone shores. Such outward evidence of her emotions is dangerous in her new world, but despite the danger it's one she wears proudly. Though she's an amorphous creature at the moment, this tempering process will only breed a stronger cat in the end.
HYENAPROWL CLASS: EXECUTIONER roleplayed by bauble A great length of spine bisects this tall, skinny tom -- the vertebrae are like spears, fighting to prod through his sandy fur in ridges and valleys. His dark amber gaze is savage in its glow, the windows of soul that’s spent too long at the edge of survival. At three months of age he was orphaned and alone, with dark, rain-wet alleys as his harbor. He blended amongst rodents, scrapping and tugging for every morsel; and as he grew, so did his appetite, eventually venturing to find live prey. That’s when he was found by the world, and when he discovered it; he drifted into Nightclan on a night that chilled to the bone, a dodgy rogue with an anonymous face, who needed a warm place to duck his head for a time. One night turned into two, two to four, and suddenly he was a permanent fixture. Hyenaprowl is a serviceable and dependable warrior, particularly in the heat of battle or when his clanmates find themselves in a tight squeeze. That’s when others are glad to have him around. Still, the hostile nature of his past defines him to this day. Don’t come to him for smiles and assurances... this tom has no appetite for weakness … but he can find respect for those with the will to fight to survive.
MATCHASPILL CLASS: SUPERIOR roleplayed by Stark Raving Mad Raised on the idea of perfection, he hates being on the bottom and would do nearly anything to reach the top of the latter. To those below him, he’s unnecessarily cruel, mean, and hateful, and to those above he’s a suck-up and a lackey. He’s ambitious, but too unorganized, messy, and air-headed to do much. A hot-head, it isn’t difficult to irritate him. But be warned, as he isn’t afraid to get violent or hold a grudge for as long as possible.
OLEANDERCURSE CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by goldcrest She loves the feeling of being loved, adores being the center of attention, whether she's humiliating herself or not, because it means she's worthy, she's not being ignored, that in the moment, she wouldn't be left behind. She will perform if her audience will laugh, she will continue to sing and dance even if they are throwing rotting food her way, she will play games with people's hearts because she knows she can win them and because she knows she can quit the game any time she wants. A petite white she-cat, her fur not very fit for a Nightclan cat, but she hardly considers herself one anyway — her kithood was unfortunate, discovered at a young age and taken in after her mother was mauled by a fox. She never felt like she properly fit in, but has tried to force herself since she was a kit, gathering all the information she can and compiling lists of every cat in the clan, their weaknesses, their strengths, their love lives and their problems. A social butterfly, but often her eagerness can be off-putting. It's obsessive, just as she is with everything because she is terrified of losing it. She wears a faux heart on her sleeve and keeps her real one close to her chest, she uses sweet words to keep those she cares about close, to love them a little longer before she moves on. In reality, Oleandercurse is terrified of herself, and even more scared of others finding out why. She knows how shallow she is, knows she isn't kind or gentle, that she only uses people to fill the void in herself, and she is scared that one day she will snap, that she will do something that is irreversible, that she'll do so much damage that she can't ever be loved again. So, she clings onto those she loves, and while she doesn't particularly come off as very kind — more often abrasive and confident — she has a strange system of working to make others happy and then twisting it into her favour, taking it from them and giving it to herself, so that everyone she loves is left with a little piece of them missing.
RATSNEER CLASS: EXECUTIONER roleplayed by faeish Nobody’s comin to save you, okay? So you better learn to handle it on your own. A dark sable furred tom with pretty yellow eyes, he would be attractive if it weren’t for the general sour look on his face. Ratsneer is the meanest pessimist you will ever have the displeasure to meet. If you ask him, nothing is ever going to go the way you want it to, or even in a good direction. The tom was orphaned early on along with his younger brother when his father disappeared mysteriously. Perhaps this lack of parental figures caused his disdain for, well, everything and everyone. Or perhaps he was born with it. The only soft spot this tom seems to have is for his younger brother, Vampirebite. Otherwise, it may be good to stay clear away from Ratsneer. If you aren’t put off by his constant complaining, you’ll more than likely be deterred by his lashing out or occasional cruelty. Yes, he has built quite a wall indeed.
ROSECASCADE CLASS: REPORTER rped by ian Her body is a marbled white and black, the dark patches destroying the otherwise sanctified white that makes up most of her pelt. Faint blue eyes, the color of barely frosted over water, complete her look, framed perfectly by her delicate features. Rosecascade, originally known as Cascadepaw (she only took the warrior name in her mother's honor, although this, she knew would not go well, but it was a hill she was willing to die on), is the daughter of Primrosetuft and sibling to Duskhaunting and Pantherprowl. Normally quite composed, it seems as if nothing could bother the she-cat. Of course, this non-chalance is only surface level. Although she does not often comment on silly things like politics - she recognizes the absolute uselessness of addressing her own opinion - she sees everything. A gatherer of information, her knowledge suggests a particular... omnipresence of the young cat. Always lurking but very rarely stepping out of line, she collects this information and holds hit close to her chest. Her reserved nature, though, shifts as she gets older. The longer she witnesses the weaknesses of those around her, the more this reserved charm becomes angry, becomes fuel that leaves her a little more willing to go from a quiet shadow to a loud voice of resistance.
SATYRSONG CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by faeish A black oriental shorthair with yellow eyes. He is quite the promiscuous creature and tends to flirt with both sexes. Satyrsong is a bit of a happy-go-lucky guy that loves to have a good time all the time. He will always try to see the light in every situation and sway others to see the same. Some would say he is an odd personality matched with an odd appearance. Despite the disdain some feel towards his party sort of lifestyle, Satyrsong never lets others’ opinions get him down. To him it is always better to be who you are rather than water yourself down so others will like you better, and he tries to instill this same mindset in his children.
SILKSIREN CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by bauble A pale unblemished creature, with a heart-shaped face slashed by a canopy of black lashes, she gives the impression of danger shrouded in its most seductive form. Her frame is supple but muscular, a curvaceous shape that evokes walking steel, or paradoxically, the delicate material of a ghost woken from its slumber. Her speech is measured and precise, with a lilt that suggests intelligence, completely at odds with a brutality that she so rarely shows; perhaps that’s what’s most dangerous about her. Her honeyed heart is tempered by a wolfish waggishness enunciated by the curves under the silk of her coat. The shocking hue of her bright sapphire eyes speak of the life and the luster that fills her soul. But be warned: as a spider, draped in silk, she spins her sweet deception.
SNAPDRAGON CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by childe His pretty appearance gives on the impression of serenity; it's an impression that couldn't be more incorrect. Snapdragon is loud, bold, and stubborn. He wails at an injustice and refuses to back down from a fight. If he believes in his own opinion he will go down with it, even when it would be smarter to appease others. The darker fur on his face highlighting his blue eyes and cream fur got him a mate young and his loyalty has been to her ever since. His devotion is deeply wrapped in her happiness and it's cause both triumphs and tragedy in his life. Joining Nightclan before it plunged into a dark reign of terror he regrets it every moment. Because he decided to bring his mate and kits to this clan of terror.
SNEAKYSNAP CLASS: EXECUTIONER roleplayed by fox A small, taut-muscled, muddy brown she-cat with wisps of ruddy ginger through her fur that only adds to the atmosphere of dishevelled, slovenly ill-care that surrounds her. She’s a car saleswoman, gaudy and crass and over-confident; she thinks she’s charming but really she’s just loud. One of the boys, she looks down on she-cats and would slam back drinks at the pub with the lads just the same as any of them, wolf whistling at passing girls and cackling with laughter when they draw their coats tighter uncomfortably. She’s a true, unapologetic member of Kier’s generation, the kits born into his reign or the apprentices young enough to have lapped up his propaganda hook, line and sinker. Enthusiastic, crass, and utterly blind to morality or any other way of life, she’s distanced herself completely from other she-cats — there’s them, air-headed and materialistic and then there’s her, more a guy than some of the guys. Though ready to laugh to a truly staggering extent, she can suddenly snap — and those moments are always the more startling because she was jolly seconds before and now she’s stabbing a steak knife into the back of someone’s hand. She’s an unflappable court jester, the extroverted clown of the friend group who’s always happy to be front and centre — until she cracks.
SPARKLESPRITE CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by biyuu A white and grey tom with green eyes. Wants everyone to be the best versions of themselves, and is willing to become the worst version of himself to help them achieve it. Formerly of SunClan, but moved to NightClan after forging a friendship(?) with Kier (and also after kidnapping that kit). Has never glowed in his life. Who told you he's glowed before? Certainly not me, because I would never say that.
TIGERSIGHT CLASS: EXECUTIONER roleplayed by Enderwoxxu She's a brown tabby she-cat with Amber eyes, she's not friendly and nothing like that, she's aggressive and manipulative, she's not the typical bully that will punch you in the face she likes hurting other cats psychologically and try that all their loved ones be against them, she will do everything to make trouble of that cat and will not have mercy about it.
TIGERLILY CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by childe The hardest battles are the ones you fight with yourself. What use if your pride when it only ever gets you hurt, why not surrender it for the betterment of your own existence. What use is your own throne of self-confidence if it only brings you misery. It's a pitiful mindset in her eyes but one she has taken up. Leaving behind that throne, that crown that held her head high in the face of dispute and firm in her morals and opinions. Now she is a puppet that speaks for others benefit, carved out by her own loss and anguish. Left to be filled by others rhetoric, their desires strengthening her spine and keeping her standing. A lean black she-cat with pale sea-green eyes she fits right into Nightclan even if as time passes she feels more and more of a sham. The loss of her first love and then the birth of her stillborn twins ruined her. Having to bargain, in the end beg, for Kier to let her leave the torture of the nursery and join the warriors once more broke those ruins to pieces and left her crumbled to dust. Nothing better than a puppet at times she wonders at times why she bothers. Tigerlily used to be a credit to her name and now she is nothing more than an embarrassment.
VULTUREMALICE CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by baewolf There as never anything sunny about this tom, no matter what the Clan he reigned from or the family that had adopted him. He had failed in every sense of the word. His Clan was left without a leader, and he failed. Leaving his only love, his sister in all the sense, his best friend; everything about his actions made him a coward. There was nothing that this former medicine cat could go to put himself back into the good graces of SummerClan, his home. That good part of him as gone; his time healing as a rouge has tainted his once good heart. Whilst he wasn't the most emotionally connected to his Clanmates and their personal woes, he was a damn good medicine cat. And he had failed all of them. The scar that he bore from the NightClan leader still stung, ranging from shoulder to shoulder across his throat. While he has never had the body of a warrior, as a medicine cat, he has done all he thought he could to lead his Clan. Vulturemalice is a tall, very lean tom with a white based pelt splashed with a muddy brown, creating odd angles across his pelt. His eyes are a pale green, the color of newly grown thyme as he had once been told. There are many things he had once been told, and a love that he wished would have stayed. Doefreckle had changed his life in so many ways, yet harmed them just the same. Having a great love of his life strengthened him as much as it made him weak, causing Vulturemalice to challenged the NightClan leader out of his love for his sister, friend, and tom he loved, on top of his loyalty to his Clan, But after having being injured, Vulturemalice could not face the humiliation for failing at leading his Clan without a leader and letting another take over. He had crept away during the night, hoping that his injury would allow him to bleed to death. But despite all his flaws, this medicine cat has survived all the odd and made it through years on his own. Even more scrawny and scarred now, he found his way into NightClan with a thirst.
APPRENTICES
AGRESTALPAW / FLOWER CLASS: SUPERIOR roleplayed by childe The bad die last. They have to stay around to the end after all, because what is a story without the villain. And what is a villain that hasn't been misunderstood at their core. Agrestalflower often thinks of himself as this villain, often prescribed the role of the antagonist in disputes or disagreements. So much so that he has gotten used to this role, used to playing this part with a flair even if it wears on him and dulls him down. You see at the heart of things he's got a good heart, a sweet outlook. But as with most things it never gets told, never gets written out and is instead hidden away. Because no matter how good his heart is he still prioritizes himself and his reputation enough that it is often all others see in him. His personality edges towards confidence so steadfast in himself and with an eccentric flair that others tell him he's overconfident. His response to these observations is often a sarcastic quip that he is always ready to deliver. It gets him dubbed as mean and he simply raises a perfectly groomed brow and huffs in dismissal. He has always considered himself somehow above others, looking towards those around him and always finding them lacking in something. Even if it is something as simply as lacking in appearance; it is enough for him to judge them. Agrestalflower value his appearance and cleanliness enough that to see others dismissing it or letting it fall to the wayside sends his lip curling. This daintiness has earned him many a monikers that are less than kind and it rolls off his back like water off a ducks back. As long as his sense of self is firm so is he, and he rarely wavers.
APPLEPAW / DELIGHT CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by Dot soft muted colored calico with light green eyes. Soft-spoken and quiet, most wouldn't give her a second glance if she were in a room — actually, they hardly notice her at all. She's a social recluse, and often fumbles through interactions, always sticking with those she knows. Not particularly prone to anxiety, she is very organized nonetheless and loves planning things. Always thinks things through and often the rock that holds her sister down. She enjoys researching various plants, and often watches wild animals from afar just to see what their lives are like.
BALLOONPAW / DAYDREAM CLASS: SUPERIOR roleplayed by dot Soft brown Bengal with marbled pattern that look similar to clouds. Maybe his appearance gives him the soft squishy appears of a balloon, but he is anything far from it. He actually loathes his name and wonders why he needed to be compared to something so thin that can easily be popped with the flash of a claw. Balloondaydream is manipulative just like his siblings. He can fake kindness, a happy smile and pretend to be your best friend. Just all to gain the trust of others so they will spill him their secrets. But when they are not looking. He will destroy the foundation of that trust and throw them to the wolves.
BUBBLEPAW / DIADEM CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by childe A charcoal bengal they do not look anything like a bubble, they are not soft, they are not easy to pop, and they do not float to the ground. Bubblediadem is a manipulative tom that speaks softly only to worm himself into your space and make a home for himself among those you trust. When you gift him your back he will not guard it but instead carve it open. His ambitions are limitless, he would try to claim the sky, the moon, the stars, the very earth itself if he could. He treats others as prizes to be won, a collection of personalities and fun little whimsies. Truthfully he is only ever in it for himself, this extends to his siblings as well, his care for them is conditional like all affection in his life.
BUMBLEBEEPAW / ARIETTA CLASS: EXECUTIONER roleplayed by Wrenpansy A smaller cat; in spite of this they have a more muscular and athletic build that they seem to carry with the fierceness of a cat much larger than they actually are. With their exotic golden pelt and bengal markings, there is a certain innately wild and foreign look that Bumblebeearietta carries, one that they clearly take pride in.
BUNNYPAW / RELIC CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by vexingode Slinking in the shadows, the moon glistening of his sleek bangle tabby pelt. His dark black and brown stripes disguising him in the shadow of the trees. Yellow blinking eyes and soft childlike features. With smooth words and a deceptively gentle gaze, Bunnyrelic isn’t as soft and kind as he looks. It’s a facade, to get you to lower your defenses, so he can discover your deepest secrets. There are very few cats he actually trust, and cares for. Though there is one cat he would die for, Marinewisp, his adoptive mother, so gentle and kind. She nurtured him and his siblings. He hates his name but doesn’t complain, in fear of hurting the sweet ex kitty pets heart. With a desire for power and higher rank, he will do anything to rise to the top, even sacrificing his siblings if they give him reason. Always watching, listening, waiting for his opportunity to deal his blow. He is patient and cunning, and can play the long game. So soft and deceptive he can fool almost anyone, Anyone except those who know better, those who have seen his heart and his true intentions.
CATERPILLARPAW / CRUX CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by goldcrest They are tall, long, and willowy, all clumsy limbs and unsure steps, and aside from their frame they aren’t the type to stick out in a crowd — a basic but vibrant brown coat with dark, prominent stripes, a splash of white from their muzzle to their neck, wide, curious amber eyes that sometimes hold static or wistfulness or shame, depending on the day. Being born from the generation just after Kier became leader, all they knew was the violent, opportunistic, merciless atmosphere that stemmed from his reign, and after only a short time did they begin to regard it with cold detachment. They were never the upstart, they never had any interest in anything higher, and though they didn’t like the brutality, it was never anything they could harbour an intense hatred for — it just was, plain and simple. For the most part, there was no hope in a world like that, but they had heard whispers of Starclan — before even those subsided — and clung onto the idea that these great, mystical saviours would one day come down and return Nightclan to how it was before, whatever that may have been. But, surely, Starclan couldn’t forgive so easily, and perhaps they were right to be so silent, but they kept up their faith because it was the one thing they could hold onto even though their knowledge was barebones. Most of what they know they made up in their own head, going only off of a few hushed words and ideas, driving themselves in circles only knowing that somewhere out there were quiet onlookers waiting to step in, because surely it had to be apart of some plan, surely they hadn't truly left. They judge themselves on impossible moral standards while believing true goodness is unattainable, and they regard themselves as someone corrupt and evil, someone compliant. A pushover, strange and gullible and idealistic, they try to look for the best in things but it always ends up falling short, and so they settle for apathy instead, being passive and nearly mindless in it. With others, they are talkative, kind, clueless and clumsy, and there is something almost air-headed about the way they come off, but they are far more perceptive than they let on. Often, they struggle to fit in, preferring instead to delve into distraction after distraction, even if it's little things — anything to keep their mind at bay. Guilty, extremely self-critical, but they don’t seem to extend that to others, because everyone else is just doing what they need to get by, no matter how cruel they are, and only they, themselves, are selfish for doing so as well. They are terrified of not being good enough, but they keep their paranoia to themselves, overcompensating by attempting to be helpful where they can, by trying to be kind even if they don’t grow attached. Instead of growing to fear the very real, very rough environment they grew up in, they learned to overlook it in favour of a much more intangible threat — and perhaps they grew so attached to the notion because it provided the long-term distraction they needed, replacing fear of one thing with another.
CRIMSONPAW / CHILL CLASS: EXECUTIONER roleplayed by Storm He was born in blood. His parents born in a gang that killed and tortured their own members to get them to fight for a tyranny Leader, who sought to control his gang with fear. He took kits from their Mothers at a young age and taught them from kit-hood, either how to fight, kill or provide for the Clan as a Queen. Being born a male, he was to either be an assassin, an aide to the Mothers, or a guard for the prisoners. But his parents decided to flee to a better home and ran away from the Gang. They had with them, their three Moon old son, Crimson. His parents taught him, along the way, how to be a ruthless killer. A Pychopath who enjoyed everything to do with killing. Love was just a means to further his bloodline. He was born into Royality, his Grandfather, being the current Gangs Leader and the Great-Grandson of the Ex-Queen Leader of the Gang. They traveled around until he was six moons old. Then his Mother fell ill and died and then his Father. Left alone he traveled until he found NightClan, and is now learning what it means to be a NightClan Member. He is a deep follower of Kier and supports him in everything. Crimsonchill, is very aloof, stoic, and unmoving in all he does. He sets his mind on something, he's gonna do it. Whether it will cost him something or gain him something, he'll do it. He is a killer, an executioner, a pychopath, who only does things only because it will amuse him or others. Sure killing prey to feed himself and those above him, can be fun, but it more fun to kill, torture, starve other cats who he thinks or the Royals think deserve it, whether he thinks so or not. His opinions, are mostly in accordance to what Kier thinks. He will do anything for Kier, even if it means being tortured and beaten to prove his loyality, he will do it. He will endoer anything his Leader throws at him. As long as he can kill someone, he's chill as ice on a river. One small crack, and this tom will explode. So warning to those who want to get near him, tread carefully, if not it may be the end of your life. He was born in Blood and he will die in Blood, whether willingly or by force. But he won't go down without a fight. His goal in life is to become a king, or at least a Prince. To rule as a member of the Clan's Royal Family. He knows that even though he was born as a Gangster Prince. He was seen as nothing here. he hopes to change it someday. To become considered Clan Royality. Crimsonchill is a blood-red tom-cat with dark brown eyes. His fur is short and has white flexes on his chest and muzzle. When he walks it's with is head up, tail up, and shoulders back. He gives off an arrogant and "I'm above you." feeling when he is present around those who lower than him. He bows his head to those who rank above him, knowing that maybe someday, he will rule above them all.
KITSUNEPAW / FIRE CLASS: EXECUTIONER roleplayed by childe She burns bright like her orange pelt and flaming eyes, fierce and intelligent in their fire. Kitsunefire does not shy from a fight though she is not a fool to rush in either. Loyal to those she gifts her heart to she fights her hardest for them and never wavers in her devotion to them. Foxes are often thought of tricksters but just because one is a trickster does not mean they cannot also be steadfast in their believes and in themselves. With adaptability comes change, but those skilled enough will also keep the core of themselves safe and unwavering. Just as Kitsunefire has through her growth; raised during unsteady times there were many times were she wavered and her flames flickered and almost went out but she kept her fire burning through the worst of it and refused to loose her light.
LEMONPAW / GLITZ CLASS: EXECUTIONER roleplayed by unknownhearts She takes the natural role of team leader and organizer, making deals and ensuring they’re kept while also spreading the word of the Wraith. At least, she did before she got too controlling, too rash. Now, she’s bitter, uptight, and angry. Though cruel, she’s still loud and bubbly, naturally convincing and charming if her temper isn’t too short (which it quite often tends to be). Her blatant disregard for everyone around her is obvious, but it’s the similar view of herself that she doesn’t make well known, covering it up with overconfidence and scathing remarks, though the way she puts herself into reckless situations speaks a great deal on the subject. Immediately, she comes off as almost warm, but her smile is off, her eyes are cold, her attitude is flippant. She holds grudges for an incredible amount of time. She is skilled at navigating the world around her, at fitting into roles, at survival — she grieves the cruelty in private — and she takes a quiet glee in kicking those who are down because it makes her feel better, just a little, just for a while. Her authoritarian nature and recklessness was a splinter in the old group she worked, lived, with. She struggles to take anyone else into account.
LEVERETPAW / SHIMMY CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by fox A sweet, soft-spoken trans tom with short grey fur, a white underbelly, white forepaws, and milky blue eyes. He’s always happiest when he’s in the wings of life — the sous chef to Badgerkit’s culinary confidence, the nervous wingman, the dresser getting the main actors ready sidestage before they head out to take the spotlight, never expecting a thank you or an acknowledgement, always happy to just smile shyly in the dark and watch them perform. Privately, he has a stash of twoleg comic books that he keeps in a cave by the waterfall; he can’t read them, he just likes to look at the pictures, and he’s a bit of a kleptomaniac. His claws are all but non-existent from an accident involving being raised by a family of sparrows for a week and also from chewing them to the quick; they look more like blunt dog claws than cat ones. That said, he’s surprisingly popular, both for his quiet, side-stage support of others that never craves the spotlight for himself, and his tendency to murmur jarringly witty comments in that tender voice of his. He knows precisely who he is and it’s perhaps this self-assurance, however soft-spoken, that others find attractive.
LITTLEPAW / KING CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by woof The daughter who became a prince. So carefully molded in Kier's image that she's fused to the concept of knighthood and royalty with little room left in between to find her true self in, King treats life like it personally offended her. She has none of the softness of her sister, Maiden, all sharp, angled points and snaring scowls, a furrowed-brow anger seething in the creases, a stilted walk and stiffened shoulders and a silent, unwavering obedience. She's the shadow of her father and rightfully so: with his same sleek black fur and suffocating, ashy grey eyes, large ears, and needling voice. There's no discernible difference between them. When King sits behind her father at the clan and guard meetings, when she flanks him to Gatherings, she's invisible; wary eyes always follow her father, rarely noticing his shadow has its own set of eyes. When she’s done with business for the day and away from Kier, her self-imposed, glowering vow of silence breaks and she’s deadpan, biting, and speaks almost exclusively in a bitter, sarcastic growl. She has the biggest presence out of her siblings; when she enters a room, all the air is sucked out of it and she hangs over it like a heavy, crushing weight. She has a certain measure of cruelty she reserves for others. While Maiden was dressed to the nines and Brat discarded and Disappointment ignored, King was groomed into a proper killing machine without an ounce of regret for it. In particular, she has a special distaste for Superiors, especially ones who boast their status; be it jealousy or disgust, she hates them. While more forthcoming with her savagery than Kier, she has inherited his cunning, his silver tongue, his impressionism, and his penchant for cruelty. Is it more or less dangerous that she has the strength and precision to follow it up?
NADIRPAW / TRYST CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by faeish An awkward dark brown tomcat with yellow-green eyes. He tends to move with smooth confidence, playing a good game of seduction until the cruel justice of the universe causes him to trip over his own paws. Perhaps after so many embarrassing moments he’s moved past being ashamed – making his lechery all the worse. His absurd clumsiness is constantly thwarting his absurd charm; it certainly is a curse of the gods. Even worse, everyone around him has always had a nickname for him: Nadia. The rise of Kier’s reign has only ever made this harder for him, being called a she-cat's name when he is in fact a tom in NightClan, and under scrutiny by his lord. These superficial things have always created a deep root of insecurity within him, and anger tends to follow. Even though his own shortcomings have created an uncomfortable situation for him in Kier’s NightClan, he is an avid follower and revels in the suffering of others. Better it be them rather than him.
PERIWINKLEPAW / PUMPKIN CLASS: SUPERIOR roleplayed by Wrenpansy A small, frail, dainty thing. Always sickly, and yet distinctly beautiful in spite of it, with her long, raven black coat and pumpkin orange eyes. She's a sweet, delicate little thing, never intent on rocking boats and happy to be just where she is in life.
ROYALPAW / BRAT CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by fox The voodoo queen, the family dissenter, the thorn in Kier’s side. While one of her sisters is the crown prince and the other is the perfect princess, Brat is the unneeded spare who lost her way. As a young royal, she traded in her father’s Celtic paganisms for voodoo; and, with her father paying no attention to her, she took to charging for reading counterfeit fortunes. As she grew older, these cons took a darker turn. She’s a scrawny, scrappy survivor, as at home in a castle as in dingy, rowdy inn, as able to eat cockroaches as to eat the finest feast, used to living in impromptu situations and making do — dirt, rain, on the road. She makes no judgement of her lot in life; she’s a roach and a scammer, a disgraced royal daughter and a calm, hooded-eyed quick thinker, and she’s content. She’s malnourished but satisfied with the open road, eccentric, theatrical, and always smiling. But the smile isn’t always kind. She sells fraudulent love and success potions for a high price, and by the time her customers realise they’re useless, she’s gone. A natural bargainer, in back rooms and side halls, she wears a little leather purse she’s always slipping profits into after a successful business transaction, a pleased, smug smile on her face and a coin flicked to spin in the air. She has all manner of tricks and spectacles up her sleeve — she’ll disappear in a plume of red smoke conjured from her satchel, revive blooms from black death, seem to sprout bat wings as a silhouette, and somewhere along the way the con artist pageantry begins to blur with magic. Do the shadows move behind her, or is that only your own fear? Can she take your soul, or was the bargain an empty threat? Is she just a common magician, or did she make some terrible deal? The certified embarrassment of the family, she’s only one who can get away with mocking her father in public, with showing up to important events hammered and passing out on the throne; she annoyed her way to freedom with tarot cards and bad behaviour just to make her siblings laugh, and now she’s the princess who beds down in taverns. She’s all over-confidence borne of necessity, all mocking bows and curtsies, asking visiting leaders about their messy divorce and encouraging kits and apprentices to ruin her father’s important day. If Kier hadn’t given up on her a long time ago, he would still spend half his days yelling at her. All that said, she doesn’t hate her father, more loves him in a deadpan, entirely-aware-of-his-failings way; she’ll roll her eyes and show up to family gatherings and give him a hug and deadpan ‘hi dad.’ She still loves him and wants their messed up family to be happy. A small, dusty grey-brown she-cat with large ears, narrow green eyes, and her father’s inherited Adie syndrome in her left pupil. Step past the velvet curtains and into the incense and dust of her tarot den, and there you’ll find her. But be wary; when you bargain something away to her, the thing you have taken may not be what you intended to give. In that dark room, she can’t be trusted. You might get what you want, but you’ll lose what you had.
WEBPAW / WEAVER CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by nightshade Webweaver has bright blue eyes, stark against her short white fur. She has abnormally tall lets and whiskers that stick out at slightly strange angles. She's a cunning cat with a need to cause chaos when possible, and she loves a good rumor. It isn't that she wants to be mean, she just can help herself from craving the adrenaline of causing problems and watching it unfold around her. She has her kind moments though it can be hard for her to be serious about anything and she tends to take even important matters as a joke. She's self conscious about her legs and that they sometimes makes it hard for her to be stealthy or agile and tries her best to cover up her insecurities by poking fun at others. She doesn't have any friends and while she can sort of see why, she also craves the feeling of having someone close to her in her life, she just isn't sure how to maintain relationships.
WENDIGOPAW / HOAX CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by faeish A silky black tom whose facial features are slightly like his father’s, an oriental shorthair, except more refined with the same yellow eyes. He also has long fur accompanied by a bulky body shape and long sharp claws. A dark and mysterious aura seems to shroud this large tom. Paired with this is a deep smooth voice, one that isn’t used often but will leave you with a haunting feeling. Wendigohoax often goes here and there on his own; not to say others aren’t close by. The strange tom has a hobby of following and watching others from a distance, learning their habits; good or bad. He is certainly more of an observer than anything else and is eerily good at blending in with the background. Let’s just say you may not always be alone, even if you think that you are. Danger lurks in the shadows.
WHEATPAW / WHISPER roleplayed by vexingode A field of wheat gently Swaying in the wind, the light of the moon glistening off the tall pale grain. Do you hear it? Do you feel it? The whispering songs of mother nature. Do you see it? A flicker in the field, breaking the calm ebb and flow of the wheat. The sleek movement of a she-cat her molted grey cream coat disguising her movement. Amber eyes peering from beneath the whispering grain. The thick scent of mortiferous herbs, and the quiet clink of small rocks and crystals. You can't tell what is most disturbing, her soft ghostly meow, the sharpened fangs from her strange rock eating habits, or the sickening sent of herbs from her personal collection. Ripped from her mother and brainwashed by her leader, she is Wheatwhisper. The spitting image of Moonblight, a reminder of traitors long gone. Her fury is silent, quieter than the night mother's whisper. It sleekes in the shadows hidden below her smiles. Don't believe her whispering don't partake her offerings. For she is the witch of the night, and tragedies sweet whisper. With two bothers by her side, what will they do about their plight.
QUEENS, NURSEMAIDS & KITS
NOTE: Though the queens in Kier's NightClan are treated with deference, this is not so much a privilege as a form of oppression; they are considered gentler, second class citizens who have to be sheltered from politics and war and treated with condescending tenderness. Female warriors and guards are encouraged to have kits - but once in the nursery as a she-cat, it's difficult to get back out. He'll insist it's for your own good that you stay; leave the messy, unpleasant business to them and focus on being a good mother.
☆ Nursemaids do the actual raising of kits, ordinarily one litter at a time; they are loyalists who have been entrusted with the indoctrination of youth. Each nursemaid has a small stone den for herself and her assigned litter. Queens are merely the she-cats who carry and deliver the kits, who are taken immediately after birth and given to a nursemaid. They live in the communal nursery and are not ordinarily permitted to see their kits once taken — until their apprenticeship when familial bonds have been sufficiently broken.
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MARINEWISP CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by vexingode A small black and white she cat with green eyes, who despite being plain in appearance holds something beautiful in her own right in her grace of movement and just in her delicate physical frame. Formerly a kitty-pet from one of the two-leg places that were so far away from the clans that tales of them were thought myths and legends, she grew up on stories of fierce wild cats and of grand battles between these mythical clans. She was a dreamer, enchanted by the stories of clan-life even though she knew she would never be brave enough to leave her cozy home. At least, she believed as much, until one of the other kitty-pets down her street - a friend of her's name Henry- took on what he claimed to be a real clan cat as a mate. The foreign she cat was strange, exotic in her appearance and speaking styles, and she held a certain air of confidence and mystery that truly matched the tales and legends she had heard about. Although in some respects this apparent clan cat was secretive and reserved, Marinewisp would slowly but surely learn more and more - both about this foreigner and the actual life inside the clans she had heard so much about. After moons of hearing second-hand tales, Marinewisp's curiosity reached a boiling point: She decided she would search out these legendary clans and join one for herself. But such a decision coincided, incidently, with the clan-cat she had befriended being near kitting, and this lead to a request Marinewhisper was wholly unprepared for. The foreign she cat told her she didn't wish for her kittens to be raised as kitty-pets, nor to live as loners - she wished for them to be raised among the clans as she had been, and to be given the choice to leave and roam as she had when she was older as they wished. The request sounded strange to Marinewhisper, but she agreed to take the kittens with her once they were weened and to bring them to whatever clan she herself joined. She didn't however, truly realize how ardeous of a task she had signed up for; being a kitty-pet with little survival skills and six extra mouths to feed was a trial in itself, and in the end one of the kits she was traveling with perished from the elements. However, she and the rest eventually made it, managing to get the border of Nightclan alive. Little did she know what she was signing up for when she stepped foot into Nightclan, and the culture shock she and the still-small kittens at her side were in for. Written by Wrenpansy
BANSHEESHRIEK CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by nightshade Her parents gave her a name they hoped would instill a fear into those she encountered, a name that spoke of the havoc she would bring. The small she cat would live up to none of it, instead becoming an odd and misty-eyed dreamer the older she got. She had always been small, her fur a jet black and her eyes a dim yellow. She always had a high-pitched raspy voice that didn't match her soft face, lilting and drawling as she thought while she spoke, her words taking forever to pass through her lips. None of those had changed as she grew. She knew from a young age that she was drawn to the beauty in the world and when she met Satyrsong he opened her eyes to the enchanting world of love. He taught her not only to love him but others, as he did. They shared a mutual understanding that while they cared most for each other, others were always an option. When she was blessed with his kits, she knew immediately she didn't want to raise them the same way her parents tried to raise her, a cruel and uncaring warrior. She knew the others in the clan looked down on her for her physical weakness and her promiscuity but she was never one to let their opinions get in the way. She hopes to instill values of love, beauty, and open possibilities to her offspring and show them that the world doesn't have to be cruel, even if her ideas are ultimately skewed and not realistic.
SABLEMAID roleplayed by ash A solid black feline with sharp green eyes. She was named Panther simply due to the fact she had a strong built face, and big paws, as well as her coloring. Panther is a sharp tongued feline who has a lot of spunk in her. She has two littermates, Dusk and Rose. Her father was killed in a battle when she was rather young, and her mother Primrosetuft never moved on. Instead she raised her kits and eventually rose to become the loyal guard. Then tragedy happened in Kier's reign, and Primrosetuft was taken as a prisoner due to not agreeing with his ways, this eventually led to her mother's death. Which changed all of her kits. KITS: flutterkit, primrosekit, sproutkit, victorykit, bloomkit, blisskit
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CENTURYKIT / MIRAGE CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by Wrenpansy A larger white and black tom, he's built more like a tank than a cat with a wide, muscular frame. A physically imposing cat just naturally, his long, thick fur makes him look like a large, woolly mammoth of a cat. The fact that he tends to stay quiet and off to the side makes him even more intimidating.
CORNKIT / FLAKE roleplayed by sunlight Cornflake looks like his mother, Sagebristle, with his brown tabby fur and goldenrod eyes, but couldn't be less like her in terms of personality. Where she's anger and determination, he's optimism and laziness- their personalities converge on the key point of fierce loyalty to family. He and his siblings grew up in Kier's rein of Nightclan, torn from their mother and their father, Moonblight, and raised in a hellscape of suspicion and control. Cornflake turned to cheerfulness and calm as a defense mechanism to shield himself and his brother and sister from the worst of life's realities, and retained his playful, irresponsible nature even as he grew up. This medium-sized tom can't take anything seriously outside of protecting his family, cracking jokes and avoiding his responsibilities in favor of playing games and napping in the sun.
MAGPIEKIT / MENACE roleplayed by achromatic One for sorrow, two for joy. Magpie was born out of love between two lost souls. A litter desired in a time of undesired violence when all hope seemed to be lost. To get to where the story begins, we have to start with another story. Three for a girl, and four for a boy. Sagebristle was a girl, Moonblight was a boy; could they make it anymore obvious? His parents were a classic story of enemies to lovers, two apprentices in a training pair that learned everything from one another, including love. Thus, he and his siblings were created. Five for silver, six for gold. Magpiemenace has his father's darker silver furs, striped like his mother's, and both of his parents' golden eyes, all dressed up like a king of his own right. The spitting image of those deemed to be traitors to the clan he was born to. Growing up, he was told his mother was dead and his father a traitor, leaving his own blood behind like a coward in the night. Seven for a secret, never to be told. To protect his siblings, he buried his heart deep within, and with it, everything he learned and everything he felt. Borne of a cursed line, he always felt like an outcast, even if it wasn't for the dirty little secrets whispered around the camp. Somber and sarcastic, his barbed wires and jagged fences were built to keep everyone out with a facade of a purposeful bad boy with a devil-don't-care attitude. Eight for a wish, all he ever wanted was to be enough, nine for a kiss, a goodbye kiss was the last thing he saw when his family broke apart, and ten for a bird you must not miss, and if you trust anything true about Magpiemenace, it is that despite his silent rage, and the violence he baptises himself in, once he's gone you're sure to miss him.
OSPREYKIT / HUNT CLASS: EXECUTIONER roleplayed by Enderwoxxu A tabby brown and white Tom of amber eyes, his name make reference to the way that the same bird fish, even if he fish better than hunt, he always being flawless and elegant in every of his hunts, he try to be in every hunting patrol enjoying it even if others can't tell the same, he's always serious and grumpy and most of the times he doesn't laugh in funny moments or jokes that other makes.
PALMKIT / SINGER CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by woof Despite having lived in the thick of Kier's NightClan, witnessing firsthand gruesome executions no kit should, Palmsinger never shed his optimism, his joy, or his innocent wonder. He has survived this long in an armor made of jokes, cutting through cruelty with a kind smile. There's a sweet and sympathetic heart buried in short layers of brown tabby fur, which adopted russet highlights as he grew older, and it shines through his bright, honeyed amber eyes.
PHANTOMKIT / MASK CLASS: EXECUTIONER roleplayed by Phoenix - Phantommask is the night himself. Pitch Black pelt, short and sleek to the touch. Long legged and standing over almost everyone. He stands tall and when he walks he walks quickly, quietly, and regal. His head is always high, and he has an aura of 'Don't mess with me.', about him. So much that most cats stay out his way. The only thing that really stands out is his eyes. In the night they are light two bright orange suns, Like fire in the darkness. The lack of emotions seep from this eyes which stare at you. A firece hatred shine in them, a hidden burning action or thought that has yet to be done. - Phantommask is a Pychopathic cat who has no feeling of right or wrong. No feelings of regret. A cat who lives off the pain of others. He is someone who loves to murder and gets away with it. He is mysterious and desceptive. Most cats shy away from him, aftraid that if they stepped in his way, they would be next. He loves to capture cats and torture them. Often taking them to a hidden cave he knows about and keeping them there. It's usually longers, rogues and stupid soft kittypets that he takes and hurts. Rarely does he take a clan cat, unless he has permission from Kier to do so. - Phantommask doesn't know his parents, due to his parents being killed by an executioner, for going against Kier and his ways. He had been too young to remember them and thus, didn't care about it. He was born on April 3rd, 2022. All he cares about is pleasing Kier and killing things. - Like a phantom, he never really speaks unless he has too. He looks and listens and when asked for an opinion, he will give it. Other wise he is silent. He does his jobs, without complaining and when he isn't doing his job, he off somewhere torturing and killing cats. - He has no want for a mate or kits, he has no comcept of love, having no one to love him and show him. But he will soon learn that a she-cat in his clan, is as twisted and screwed up as he is, loves him, or rather wants to be his partner in crime. He decides to let her in and they start to murder, kill, and leave a cold trail of evidence behind, all the while living a false life in Nightclan. A True Murder-love saga. PRIMROSEKIT / MISFORTUNE CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by goldcrest Her father was the royal; her mother was the peasant girl who somehow had him wrapped around her finger, and she is the perfect mix of both. Tenacious and stubborn, sarcastic and devout only to the people she loves. She is an individualist first and last, and, despite her father’s position (and, by extension, her own in relation to him), she regards any authority with a distasteful look and a yawn, ignoring them in favour of her own whims — she knows she’ll get away with it; she might live amongst the lower class, she might consider herself part of them, but there will always be that nepotism that means she can get away with things others can’t, and though she doesn’t wield her power over them, she uses it to her advantage. Her free-spirit, her rebelliousness, is insatiable and consistent, a constant irk, and frequently she is caught sneaking around, sticking her nose in places they don’t belong because she can’t stand not knowing things, not fixing things. Her fur is thick and long, an inky black paired with a pristine white that encases her paws, stomach, muzzle, and the space between her eyes, with a distinctly black, heart-shaped nose, and all of it gives her a soft, peaceful look, though she is rough around the edges. Her roundness is nothing but strength, and her stubbornness is like a mountain; she won’t back down to anyone, and to not accept a challenge is to turn her back on a fundamental part of her being. She likes being on top, but she prefers to earn it — having things handed to her has always left a sour taste in her mouth. Her eyes are a dull chartreuse, holding wit and confidence. Her air is that of someone who takes their faults in stride, almost haughty, and despite her constant playfulness, she often comes across as intimidating and pragmatic (they say she has a resting face, but she denies that). Every part of her is a fighter, mentally, physically, and she’s protective of her family, one to follow them to the ends of the earth and back again because they mean everything to her. She holds grudges, she’s hot-headed and sometimes too intense to deal with, and her impulse-control is low. Freedom is the most important thing to her, it’s what she wants for everyone, and it’s often that she goes off on her own adventures just to fulfil that desire for something more. There is something slightly hedonistic about it. Her gentleness is almost unknown, covered up with roughness and loudness and friendly insults, but in her own ways it’s apparent, in her generosity, her kindness, her understanding, and she wears her heart on her sleeve. Her emotions are front and centre, the logic always comes later. Independent, opinionated, and irritable, she likes to be the life of the party yet the one to remain sober, and her energy is difficult to match. She’s a fire, intense and unwavering and explosive. ‘Primrosemisfortune’ was a dig from her father at her mother’s family, but she takes her name with pride and refuses to bend to his will, even if she sometimes wishes she could just let herself love him.
RATKIT / SHADOW CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by Phoenix - Like a shadow in the night, Ratshadow is not seen or heard. Ratshadow is a cat who is stealthy. He knows how to walk on his toes and to keep quiet. From the time he was able to walk and should have been able to talk. He was quiet. He never really said a word. He prefers to be observant over being noisy. Ratshadow likes working at night, hidden within the shadows of the trees, bushes and the occasional burrows. He is a secret keeper, and keeps whatever he hears to himself unless it would harm his clan and family. - Speaking of Clan and family. Ratshadow was born on April 3rd, 2022, to Owlhoot (His Mother) and Ravencall (His Father). His parents are 100% NightClan Warrior's, however when Kier took over leadership they rebelled and where killed for it. Ratshadow was then raised by the Nursemaids of the Clan. He believes in what Kier is striving for. He was indoctrinated in Kier's ways, as a kit and dedicates himself to Kier, by doing all he can to make nightClan powerful, feared and terrifying. - Ratshadow is willing to kill anyone who opposes his Leader and those who patronize his Clans ways. He keeps his claws sharp and at the ready to fight. He may be skinny, and medium hieght, but what he lacks in stregnth he has with speed, teeth and claws. - Ratshadow is a dark brown tom with a black face and small amounts of black running throughout his pelt. His fur is short and slick like silk. When in the sun, his pelt shines a dark reddish hue, like very dark blood. His eyes are a very light green, like a pale sea green ocean color. Ratshadow isn't small nor is he big. He is a medium sized feline slim and slender, skinny tall-ish legs, fit for running and slinking through the forest whether on the ground or high in a tree.
SPROUTKIT / SPRINKLE CLASS: REPORTER roleplayed by faeish Classic angst boy with daddy issues and an arrogant attitude. Sproutsprinkle constantly finds himself torn between wanting nothing to do with his father and wanting to be the center of his world. The consequences of his unresolved traumas are a consistent string of unstable relationships and an inability to see the real him underneath it all. His mood swings can make him unbearable to be around at times, but his charm and humor on his up moods make up for his sharp tongue. He has an irrational buried resentment for his sisters for being the only boy of the litter and secretly wishes he had been born a girl as well. Despite this he holds a strong feeling of love for them, though he rarely if ever admits it, and often takes out his feelings on them and his mother.
STARWKIT / DISAPPOINTMENT CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by childe They say a mothers love is unconditional, but what of that of a fathers? Does their love come with conditions and stipulations? Strawdisappointment would say it does, he would say that growing up his fathers love could not be extended to him because his own failure in meeting those conditions. His own eye color disqualified him from contention for his fathers affections well before his personality could win it back. Not that his personality would win him anything in Kier's eyes. No, his hesitant words and anxious fretting as a kit won him nothing but disdain in the eyes of some and pity in the eyes of others. Often he contributes his happy moments in his younger years solely to his sisters. Who did their best to help bolster him though even that grew suffocating in time. At times the only peace he felt was in the quiet moments were he retreated to isolated places where his solitude was guaranteed. There is peace in loneliness after all, but there is also pain. Being alone never felt right, sometimes it felt good, but it never felt right. He fights with the desire for approval, torn between seeking validation and spurning that sort of dependence. All Strawdisappointment wants it to be more than his name, more than his blood, more than his father thought he could ever be.
SWEETKIT / MAIDEN CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by Stark Raving Mad A dainty grey-brown she-cat with soft paws and grey-green eyes. Brat's twin. The princess, the bastard, the soldier, the king. In the twisted fairytale of her childhood, there was never any question of which she would be. The scrawny, weak, good-hearted daughter, her curse was being born both the neglected daughter and the favourite; while her sister was groomed to be the heir, the son his actual son was too out of favour to be, she was raised to do the only thing a she-cat ought to aspire to: being a mother. Continuing the royal line. She’s the daughter Kier allows - and insists, in fact - to be feminine; she’s the princess, the perfect daughter, the child he dotes on most because she’s everything he thinks a she-cat ought to be. He shelters her from talk of politics and violence, thinking they’re distressing to feminine ears. He spoils and shelters her, and as such she’s out of touch with the real world, just her father’s perfect, isolated doll, the lonely queen of her castle. She’s the perfect entertainer, the one who visiting dignitaries call ‘charming’, who curtsies so prettily and smiles and laughs and asks questions at the dinner table, who lets herself be paraded. She stress eats. She carries a lot of trauma, PTSD, and guilt/grief about the things she knows her father does to other cats; she thinks it’s somehow her fault, that she shouldn’t be allowed to have so privileged a life while others suffer. She has a huge heart and feels everyone’s pain too deeply. Too much empathy. Kind, poorly socialized, haunted, deeply sad, preened to be a happy, smiling, girly princess but her mouth is always downturned in her pink dresses like she’s holding back tears. Still, she loves her father deeply because he’s her dad and genuinely wants to make him happy, so she does everything he asks and behaves and grooms herself the way he wants. The third sister — where Royalbrat’s disdain has left her strong and Littleking’s training has left her a killer, Maiden’s innate gentleness and timidness has left her lost and out of place in the royal family. She’s not tough or callous like her sisters; she admires them and thinks herself weak and complicit. Royalbrat’s twin; they were raised the same, but where their upbringing left Royalbrat numb, it left Maiden with a desperate need to please. While Royalbrat is the rebellious daughter who deadpan glowers at the camera during family portraits, Sweetmaiden is the one who beams bright and beautiful to over-compensate for the shadow over the rest of the family. She’s the people-pleaser, the one who decorates all their balls because she wants everything to go off without a hitch and be a success, the one who takes the time to cuddle with her father because she wants him to feel loved. She’s innocent, out of touch, and dangerously repressed, lying to herself that her family is happy when it’s falling apart at the seams. The perfect daughter. She’s Kier’s favourite and he genuinely loves her. She’s going to kill herself keeping her family smiling and positive, and always arranges bonding activities to try and keep them together. Maiden will never hear a word against their father, acts like a child, would love Christmas because it’s family time. She’s the only one of their siblings to look like the mother they never knew. She’s not resentful, because resentment would require some idea of what life is supposed to be like; really, she thinks she’s very happy and is thankful for her life. She’s oblivious by choice and by training; she learned to turn a blind eye and not pay attention, to bow her head when politics was discussed. But far from being naïve, she’s easy to underestimate — if you really want information about what Kier’s planning or what he’s afraid of, you go to Maiden; constantly with him, she knows everything, even if she’s silent and obedient. But that makes her dangerous, too; she could well be a turncoat, and no one is ever truly sure where her loyalties lie or whether she can be trusted. Maiden is the most devoted to Kier and loves him deeply, despite her grief and guilt about it. Beyond everything, he’s just her dad — but that doesn’t stop the internal conflict she feels about the things he does. She’s too afraid to have a personality of her own, and as such she doesn’t know who she is beyond Kier’s puppet - but at heart, she suspects she isn’t a villain. She’s Kier’s model pet and greatest joy. The innocent one. The hopeful one. The willfully blind one. The destructively optimistic one. sometimes gets upset and throws tantrums when her siblings don’t play their parts. in her world, everyone has a script to follow and anyone deviating from theirs throws her entire life into disarray.
WOVENKIT / FABLE CLASS: INFERIOR roleplayed by faeish A boyish looking white she-cat with one yellow eye and one blue. She is the offspring of two different clan cats, one NightClan, one MoonClan. Wovenfable is a strong-willed she-cat that believes in the power of her claws to convince others of her standing. Despite being a she-cat she tends to carry herself as a tom, always holding her chin high and daring others to say she is worth less because of her gender. Her hard headedness tends to get her into trouble often, but she never learns her lesson; it seems to only solidify her assurance. With sharp claws and an even sharper tongue to match, Wovenfable is certainly a worthy opponent of any.
ELDERS
CULTURALLY, NIGHTCLAN HAS NO ELDERS;
if you can’t fend for yourself, you’re of no use to the Clan. Age and wisdom aren’t respected; if you have neither the control or fear to ensure you’re fed, nor the capacity to hunt, you’ll find an early grave arranged for you.
You’re only safe for as long as you inspire terror; the second you’re weak, the vultures who have served you so faithfully turn and tear you apart. Best find yourself a position of authority before you’re old, or die young.
The latter might be kinder.
PRISONERS
FROGSMILE CLASS: EXECUTIONER roleplayed by biyuu Black tom with big green eyes and a wide smile. He is Frogsmile. This is his Clan. He eats the bug. This is the end. He loves you. REASON FOR IMPRISONMENT: Cannot be allowed to roam free.
KATE roleplayed by ASH One would think she would be a joy to be around. She looks pleasant and beautiful, just as her grandmother Katie did. In fact, she's almost a spitting image. The only difference is that her fur is short, and she has a bobbed tail and green eyes. Her name came from her grandmother, it was supposed to signal power and her resemblance. As one gets to know her, they begin to realize she is much like her grandmother was at a young age. Sarcastic, observant, energetic, and contentious. Kate is a daddy's girl, and Harley would almost do anything to make her happy. In fact, she would do almost anything to make him happy. Kate of course, is the perfect little princess, and the only she-cat in her litter. Her two brothers are a bit odd, she thinks. One seems to have a macho attitude about him, and is always trying to best her. The other is frail and small, and just doesn't fit in with them. Their mother wants nothing to do with them, but Kate could care less. Rhiannon basically rejected them at birth and abandoned them, leaving them with their father and to be raised in a barn. However, their father seemed to get a bit sickly, and they returned to their birthright, where Rhiannon had also went, causing a bit of family tension there. Though, upon joining, Kate quickly realized something. This... was home. This, was where she would gain her own power. REASON FOR IMPRISONMENT: Harming a member of the royal family.
CROW/STALKER roleplayed by PHOENIX ✧ Like the shadow, or the bird he was named after, Crowstalker is as black as black can get. Crowstalker has bright yellow eyes, that look like two suns or headlights in the nighttime. His fur is short and sleek to the touch. Scars litter his pelt from many fights.The crow bird can be a symbol of both good and bad luck. What Crowstalker's parents, Raven and Charred thought of when they named their only kit, Crow. One could only imagine. Crowstalker was born on October, 31st, 2021, in the rogue lands, near an old abandoned barn. Crowstalker was the only kit born to the couple. Their life was filled with happiness for at least three moons. Then the life of the little family changed forever. A gang of rogues headed by their leader, Brimstone, came to the barn. The rogue Leader was looking for recruits to join his ranks. His parents told him no and Brimstone ordered them to be killed. They took Crow and forced him to watch as his parents were forced to fight. Both died at the claws of Brimstone. After that, he took Crow under his paws.
✧ Crowstalker grew up in the gang, 11 moons to be exact. He had been adopted by Brimstone and taught to kill, torture, and show no mercy. He became the best rogue Gang member, other than Brimstone. But tragedy or fate would once again intervene. A fire swept through the rogue camp. Crowstalker was asleep in his nest when the fire broke out. He raced out of camp and headed to the nearest water source, which happened to be where he ended up meeting a NightClan cat. The two cats after some talking attacked each other. Crow was fast and agile, while his opponent was slow and less agile.
✧ Crow ended up getting the upper hand and was about to do the killing bite, when a patrol of NightClan cats, appeared and stopped him. They took him to prison and he has remained there since. Hoping that someday he would be able to join NightClan's ranks as a member. He knows he has work ahead of him. He knows that in order to survive, you had to be the best and most cunning of all cats you go up against. He eventually does catch the eye of the Clan Leader and ends up joining the ranks of NightClan. From then on, he is careful to obey the rules and laws of the Clan and treads lightly on the Clan Leader, knowing that he could end up a prisoner once more if he did anything out of order.
✧ He was given the name Crow by his Mother and Father, as his pelt is black, like a crow. He was given the suffix, Stalker, by Kier, because of his ability to be stealthy, and deceive others. Crow is grateful to be a member of NightClan, and only hopes that he will survive. If he has to, he will live off crow food, just to live. REASON FOR IMPRISONMENT: Ostensibly, for attempting to harm a member of NightClan (in reality, the prisons were getting empty; Executioners need their practice dummies).
and you will see how afraid your gods will be
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