whisperclan old thread

My gallery · by **phayraoh** » Thu May 28, 2020 11:01 am

My gallery · by **phayraoh** » Thu May 28, 2020 11:05 am

My gallery · by **phayraoh** » Mon Jun 01, 2020 12:27 pm

My gallery · by **phayraoh** » Mon Jun 01, 2020 2:44 pm

things to know:
- it has been 5 moons since the rogues took over -
- it is currently sunhigh -
- it is leaf-fall, weather is mild -

𝚏𝚘𝚡𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚎

— [fäks - bān] — 37 moons

𝖣𝖤𝖯𝖴𝖳𝖸. a red somali she-cat with pale green eyes

location: camp | tags: hazelwhisker

The ruddy-colored molly strode into the camp with a sparrow clasped in her jaws. It was thinner than those she had caught earlier in greenleaf, telling her that leaf-fall would soon be over and the hardships of leafbare would be on their way. It would be the Clan's first leafbare without a leader to guide them, and Foxbane shivered at the thought of not having Fernstar's wisdom to ease her Clan and see them through to newleaf.

At the thought of her slain leader, Foxbane suppressed a growl. The rogues had killed the fair molly and taken over WhisperClan. Life as she knew it had been dumped upside down; what was worse, her own Clanmates were hesitant to fight the rogues, fearing they would be killed just as easily as Fernstar had been -- after all, the leader had died with only one life left, just the same as any of her warriors.

But that's going to change, Foxbane thought, excitement and apprehension warring like beasts in her belly. If she could reach the Stone of Whispers, she would be able to receive her nine lives from StarClan and become the true leader that her cats needed. She was still their deputy now, but with nine lives and the blessing of their ancestors, Foxbane was confident her Clanmates would be more willing to launch a rebellion against their oppressors.

Trying to appear calm and casual, Foxbane left her catch on the fresh-kill pile and strode over to Hazelwhisker, who had been the Clan's medicine cat up until Cassus and his fiends had prohibited healing and worship of StarClan. "Come hunting with me," she mewed, "I've just passed by the birch copse; there's plenty of prey that I couldn't possibly catch on my own; besides, I can help you work on your hunting technique some more." Her tone was hard and it was clear that her amiable offer was actually an order. Foxbane couldn't risk Hazelwhisker making some excuse; she needed him to be there for the ceremony, and they needed to leave now if they wanted to reach the Stone in time.

She glanced around at the rest of the Clan. It was sunhigh, and cats milled about the clearing. Foxbane was relieved that she didn't spot Cassus, not knowing if she could stomach his attempts to seduce her. It was true that the Clan cats remained loyal to her, but she doubted that fidelity would remain if she became Cassus' mate. Not patient enough to wait for Hazelwhisker to reply, Foxbane headed back towards the camp exit and began climbing her way out of the ravine.

𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗

— [ˈTHəndər - ˈhāvən] — 53 moons

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖱𝖨𝖮𝖱. a massive dark brown tabby maine coon tom with pale green eyes

location: training hollow | tags: lilacpaw

Thunderhaven was in the training hollow with his apprentice, Lilacpaw. They'd been there most of the morning, working on the molly's battle skills. The tom had a grim feeling that she would be needing them some time in the future, and especially now that the rogues had begun to pick fights with the other Clan cats. Their youth were older than Lilacpaw, and Thunderhaven felt the need to make sure his apprentice could show them who's boss.

"Again!" he barked, using a wide paw to push his apprentice to her paws. "This time, aim for my back; I'm far bigger than you, so going for my legs will do no use until you've worked up your speed -- I can crush you easily." There was a growl in his voice, but his eyes betrayed he wasn't truly upset with the molly. Thunderhaven wasn't exactly the type to be soft on his apprentices, but he knew Lilacpaw could handle his tone and criticsm.

As he padded to the end of the clearing that WhisperClan used to train its young cats, Thunderhaven itched to be back at camp. The rogues there were always picking fights and stealing prey from any cat's paws, and the maine coon tom was itching to give one or two of them a good clawing. He'd always been fiercely loyal to his Clan, and he had no problem with voicing his displeasure at the outsiders and mocking them at every moment. Only the fools were dumb enough to challenge him, and fools most of them were.

𝚙𝚎𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗

— [ˈpepərkôrn] — 29 moons

𝖱𝖮𝖦𝖴𝖤 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖱𝖨𝖮𝖱. a small tortoiseshell-and-white molly with amber eyes

location: camp | tags: open

Peppercorn sat at the edges of the camp, grooming her white paws and teasing leaf litter from her tortoiseshell fur. Even though it had been several moons since she had first set paw in the ravine, she still found it hard to consider this place home. The rogue group had moved often, and once or twice had driven rival rogue bands away and taken their territory, but never had they launched an attack on cats like this. WhisperClan was a noble and tight-knit class of felines, and Peppercorn felt it was wrong to tear away at the fabric that made them who they are: killing their leader, disbanding their religion, destroying their code. It felt wrong, and too often she found herself gazing at the Clan cats with sympathy in her eyes -- which was a dangerous thing: if any of the rogues found out that she had a soft spot for the other cats, she could be punished...or killed.

Straightening up, Peppercorn wondered if she should co back out again. She'd gone hunting with a Clan patrol at dawn, never one to complain when Foxbane asked something of her. Most of the other rogues only listened to Cassus, but Peppercorn always wondered if she could try to pave the way towards friendlier relations with the Clan cats. Maybe if they could stop being at each other's throats all the time, there could be peace.

Oh, who am I kidding? the molly thought with a frown; There will never be peace. we've done the unforgivable.

𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚗

— [fey-uh-thuhn] — 33 moons

𝖱𝖮𝖦𝖴𝖤 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖱𝖨𝖮𝖱. a medium-furred black tom with a white face and pale yellow eyes

location: camp | tags: blackspot

The bicolored tom approached his brother, giving him a couple of prods on the back to announce his presence. "I'm bored," he mewed, flopping down and dramatically falling back onto his brother. "Let's do something." He pawed at Blackspot's nose with wide, innocent eyes. Phaethon was loving his new life and his new territory. The rogues had never settled in a place so lush and abundant with prey: he couldn't even remember the last time he'd had to eat crowfood or twoleg rubbish. There were no dogs here or monsters to avoid, no thunderpaths to cross and no rats to fight off. It was paradise here, and he only wished the two groups sharing it could learn to get along. Why couldn't the Clan cats just accept their defeat? That, at least, was a law other rogue groups understood. When Cassus' rogues took over, that was that, and the losing band moved on to find new hunting grounds. Yet the Clan chose to stay. "Maybe we can get one of those Clan cats to come with us. Surely one or two of them has some spirit?"

My gallery · by **The White Feline** » Mon Jun 01, 2020 6:00 pm

Location: Camp (Come back )

Otterwhisker walk back to camp with a fish in his mouth. When he got to the entrance he looked round with a worried looked on his face. Hoping that the mean rouge cats won't to steal his catch right off his paws. Then he dropped the fish into the fresh kill pile and grabbed a small water shrew from it. The sleek brown cat sat under a pine tree and ate the small animal but didn't satisfied his belly. "I guess this is my morning meal... He said looking glum. 'I know what will cheer me up, a swim! Diving if pebbles is the purrrfect way to pass the time away!' The sleek brown warrior thought. Then he happyly dash back to the river.

My gallery · by **Rae'tia** » Tue Jun 02, 2020 12:49 pm

Cliffpaw
"Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged."
9m - Apprentice - Mentor: Locustsight
Location: Camp - Tags: Open

Breathing harshly out through his nose, the brown ocicat paced in that apprentice's den having yet to leave it since the sun's rays had touched the sky earlier that day. While it was sunhigh and the weather mild Cliffpaw had no intention of leaving the den at this point. Scoffing the tom let his eyes wander over to the entrance of the den. Moss hued eyes narrowing as he glared at the light seeping in from the entrance like a wound. Finding out the differences between clan cats and his new rogue clan-mates had been a real eye-opener in many ways. He'd found while some of them may be kinder than others, they were vicious creatures and as far as he could tell, had no loyalty to anyone but themselves.

The spar that lost him part of his eyesight in one eye had damaged him emotionally in a way he could not describe. The hazy film that covered his sight in his left eye would forever remind him that he couldn't trust everyone. He snorted at his nieve position those moons ago. Even after the death of Fernstar - a cat he barely knew, but respected - and his father, he'd still trusted these intruders. Turning his gaze from the apprentice's den's entrance, he closed his eyes and sighed silently hoping that Locustsight would bother training him today.

Vlatka
"Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves."
35m - Loner - Companion: None
Location: River Outside the Territory - Tags: Open

If nothing else the territory the rogues had chosen to settle down in, it was fertile with greenery and prey. Vlatka mused as she swallowed the last of the snake she'd killed not long ago. A sneer flickered across her face as she thought about those rogues, and huffed but relaxed after giving her tail a lash. She'd started her of a journey in revenge almost a full moon after her father's death, stopping every now and then to inquire about them every so often when she came across groups of cats. It had annoyed her that the group had mostly left these groups alone, but that annoyance had quickly turned into resentment when she realized that it was because her father had fought back so viciously.

Part of her had wanted to hate her father for fighting back when he'd probably known that he'd lose his life doing so. Though she couldn't blame him for such a thing, after all, it was her plan to track them down and kill as many of them as she could before they ended her life. It didn't bother her much, though she figured if her mother knew that the older she-cat would be pissed with a capital P. Shaking her head the curling furred female quickly discarded the bones of her catch and stepped over to the river to get a few laps of water.

My gallery · by **wildsight** » Tue Jun 02, 2020 2:24 pm

❝ ── LOCUSTSIGHT.

warrior. 36 moons. female. mentors cliffpaw. cliffpaw.

The tabby warrior had left camp awhile ago and was currently resting among one of the flat stones near the small creek that was a favorite place among the clan. However, while many came here to bask in the sun and relax, Locustsight couldn't bring herself to do so. She stared at the water with glazed eyes, her thoughts elsewhere. She couldn't stand it. Ever since the rogues had taken over, the molly had found herself taking every opportunity she could to leave camp. Even though they had lived with them for five moons now, she felt as if they'd just taken over. With every passing day she grew more hatred for them. Absently, she unsheathed her claws and raked them down the stone's surface. Of course, this did nothing to the stone, but at least it helped release some of the anger she was currently feeling. Soon enough, she was sure, one day that would be one of those rogues themselves.

The sun's rays continued to beat down on the tabby warrior. Before long she had made her way to the creek and had began to lap at it. The warrior had already hunted prior to making her way to the creek and had stopped to get her thoughts together. The molly had become quite irritable as of late. Though she hadn't ever been one to be known to friendly toward others, her overall mood had soured ever since the rogues took over. She tried to keep herself on stable ground and not she had had enough that was it. As she raised her head from the creek water dripped from her jaw and she swiped her tongue over her muzzle. Her gaze flickered skyward, noticing it was a bit past sunhigh. The molly was never in a rush to return to camp anymore, just thinking of doing so put a bad taste in her mouth. Despite the fact she now despised her home, she had an apprentice to train and warrior duties which unfortunately still had to be taken care of whether she wanted to or not. With a heavy breath she turned away from the creek and gathered her prey and began to make her way back toward camp.

Locustsight returned to camp with three mice, two of which were quite small. She'd managed to find a decent sized one, but it still hadn't been as plump as she would have liked. She blinked slowly, before scanning the camp for her apprentice. She wanted to get her apprentice and get out as quickly as she could. Her pelt was already beginning to prickle with dread. Tossing her catch among the rest of the prey, she quickly began to look around the camp for her apprentice, Cliffpaw. The young tom was coming along fine she would say, but there were still things he could improve on. Like combat for example. She quickly found the tom sitting in camp, seemingly almost distracted by something. The tabby warrior narrowed her eyes slightly, before approaching the tom. "Cliffpaw", she greeted with a slight nod. "Let's head out for training now, before it gets any later", she said and before waiting for an answer, turned away and began to head toward the camp entrance, her mind still on quite a few other things besides training.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

❝ ── LARKSPUR.

rogue youth. 11 moons. male. no mentor. open.

Larkspur was currently laying in camp not far from the apprentice den. His tail swayed slowly and his ears twitched every so often. The tom was in a lazy mood, not really up to anything in particular besides watching the cats in camp. They could be quite peculiar at times, he hadn't realized clan life was so strange compared to his old life. Not like he had changed his ways by much. The young tom didn't understand why the clan cats had such a problem with them. They hadn't made them change entirely. Sure, the medicine cats couldn't practice with healing nor collect herbs and yes, they had to answer to their leader, but everything else had stayed the same for the most part. Despite the fact a rogue was leading them, he didn't think the clan cats followed them entirely if at all. He guessed they had a right to do so, since they had killed their leader. Besides, it wasn't like he followed orders all the time either.

Larkspur let out a yawn and stretched his long limbs, rolling over onto his back and letting out a quiet sigh. He gazed around the camp lazily, wondering what he'd do today. He noticed over the past few moons that the younger clan cats known as "apprentices" had "mentors" and they would reguarlly leave the camp to train. He didn't quite get the whole idea of it, but it didn't seem like many of the apprentices liked him anyway. He was okay with that though. He had gotten used to all the dirty looks and the like. As a matter of fact, he had had similar treatment before in the rogue group at times. It really didn't faze him though, which is what many felines seemed to miss. Any insult thrown his way simply bounced off of him. It was almost like he didn't even realize he'd been insulted. Of course, he did realize such things he just didn't see the need to return it with one of his own or get into a scuffle with said cat. It seemed like a waste of energy to him. And a waste of time.

Larkspur wondered briefly if the rogues and clan cats would ever get along. He doubted it. Five moons had passed and nothing had seemed to change among them. If anything he believe it might have gotten worse. But he didn't really care which way things went. If things went south, he could easily leave if he wanted to. Despite being a rogue he didn't really see himself as one, but rather seeing himself as his own kind of rogue. Being so, he believed he could see the opinions and problems on both sides. Completely siding with the rogues, he believed, would be seeing things in only one way. And vise versa. He couldn't imagine siding with the clan cats though, many already seemed about ready to destroy them all. Well, more so than they did before. Before long, Larkspur let out a sigh. These thoughts were draining. Letting out a breath he cleared his mind and let it wander while he dozed in camp.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

❝ ── DAHLIA.

rogue warrior. 35 moons. female. mentors no one. open.

Unlike some of the other rogues, and much like the rest Dahlia was satsified with what the group had accomplished five moons ago. Beyond satsified. How she loved to see the clan cats powerless against their reign. And that was what she loved most about it. The power. Though she was an ordinary rogue warrior, she still believed the rogues held a certain amount of power over the clan cats. They'd killed their leader Fernstar, a cat that had been foolish enough to let their kind into the clan. For moons Dahlia had known the feeling of being weak, powerless. It was nice for a change, finally she had something someone did not. She didn't pity the clan cats, despite the fact they had done nothing to deserve such a thing she didn't care. All she cared about was finally being seen as something more than just a useless ball of fur. For a majority of her life she was picked upon and turned down for her sickly state and small size, often deemed "useless" or "weak." Well, there would be no more of that. Not now, not ever.

Dahlia had certainly gained more strength over the moons, but her sickly nature still remained. She remembered the last time she had gotten ill, but had recovered in a timely manner. Still, this was something that irritated her. Having such an illness was still weakness. Of course, there was no way to rid of such a thing unfortunately, so the only thing she could hope for was to stay well and thrive. One thing she didn't understand was the clan cats reluctance to accept them. They had taken over five moons ago, but still the rogues weren't accepted. She didn't know how to explain it, but she didn't know how she felt about this exactly. She wasn't upset nor irritated by this. It was strange. No matter. She believed that with time they'd turn around. With them united they'd rule the land, a force to be reckoned with. And if not, she was sure their leader had plans for such things. All they needed was a few of their own on their side and then they could seal the deal. Dahlia doubted such a thing would happen anytime soon, those felines were some of the most stubborn she had ever come across. Yet there wasn't much choice for them was there? Shaking her head to dislodge the cluttering thoughts, she laid down in camp beginning to ponder what she'd take on next for the day.

whisperclan old thread

whisperclan old thread

〜 "𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒕 & 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔〬♢.

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Re: 〜 "𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒏〬♢. o&a

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