Now I lay me down to sleep
And pray Starclan my soul to keep
For secrets lie here way down deep
A thousand tears still yet to weep
And pray Starclan my soul to keep
For secrets lie here way down deep
A thousand tears still yet to weep
Introduction wrote:You had heard tales of how the last clan to settle by the river died. The curse of a green-eyed demon who could bend the wills of cats as easily as reeds. Tales that made you shudder in your pelt. But the other stories, those of clear blue water and ample prey, stories of Before, those intrigued you. And, as always, your curiosity got the better of you. You threw yourself wholeheartedly into the promises of a better life, chasing the passing whispers of rouges and that clump of stars, the one that looked like a grinning tomcat, which beckoned you south. And you found it. Your paradise. The river was shrunken and the beech trees shriveling but you didn't notice any of that. You were too caught up in your excitement at your new home to notice the creeping feeling of Wrongness. The sickly-sweet smell like that of rotten prey that stuck to everything. You were too excited to meet our guide, a real live- well dead, Starclan cat, to head his warning. That something about this territory was wrong. That you needed to fix it. That it would be dangerous. But all you saw was paradise. Welcome to your new home.
Territory wrote:The old Beechclan camp has seen some changes between its previous clan's fall and the arrival of Clayclan. Though the poison has washed from the river, the body of water has shrunken. The once purely sandy shore now stretches further, bleeding into silt and muck and clay which always remains semi-wet as if it remembers the taste of the river. Perhaps there is an underground spring nearby. In the summer the river vanishes almost entirely and in the winter, grows so large that it could drown a badger before shrinking back come spring. The tree-line has likewise retreated, its bounty scarcer but not without worth. The beeches appear to be suffering from some sort of blight which turns their leaves black and appears to slowly be petrifying them. Other species of trees are yet to be effected but this blight has left the forest much thinner. Somewhere in the forest, a large carved rock holds the history of a dead generation. The tunnels and any other cat-made structure have collapsed, but would likely not be unfixable. Though to dig an underground home so close to potential floods would be folly. Denizens of Clayclan instead nestle among the roots of a cluster of large-bowed trees, each set aside for a different rank of cat.
Traditions wrote:Clayclan is yet young and lacking in traditions, but there is one rather large difference between them and other clans. The tendency for a 'ghost' to manifest around members. These cats appear in clan member's dreams and help guide them through life. Each 'ghost' is with a cat from birth and only the cat who has received them can see them. Even the 'ghosts' themselves cannot see each other and they often remark about being lonely. They are 'ghosts' and not Starclan cats for these cats have not made it to either Starclan or The Dark Forest. Something has trapped them in Clayclan's hunting grounds and they do not know what. In fact, many of the 'ghosts' have broken memories. Claywhistle, the 'ghost' of the first leader of Clayclan, was the one to lead him to the territory. It is remarkable just how similar they are in coloration and temperament... But despite the confusion around why they exist, the 'ghosts' are quite integrated into Clayclan life. Now if only those flickering figures could be figured out.
