[Swishy & Broken]

Mark

[crexmii]

Username: crexmii
Cat Name: shattered rift
Gender: nonbinary
Rank: child of the abyss
Clan: softclan
Age: eons
Prompt: ( js a lil note, my second clan will be telling this story !! )

they say if you wander for long enough, you’ll meet a group of travellers
who have seen and heard many things.
it’s whispered that should you be lucky enough to encounter them, you should ask them for a tale.

“belladonna, belladonna
tell me a story.
let me hear of legends, myths, or parables of young cats’ folly.

let me listen of lost fables, forgotten to time.
let me hear of folklore, of faerie bells that chime.”

eighteen pairs of irises meet yours.
the silence is broken when an amber molly turns to you, crimson eyes gentle. a small, cinnamon-coloured bat wriggles around on her head, resting its claws on her spiked fur. “oh dearie, would you like a story? we can do that, can’t we, friends? now, let us tell you one that’s been passed down from generation to generation.
eons and eons ago, there was only emptiness.

let me tell you the legend of the
[url]voidwalker.[/url]”

[néktar]

Username: néktar
Cat Name: blackblood
Gender: tom
Rank: deity, death
Clan: marbleclan
Age: 802 moons

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ wishing on a star

[Derpy.]

mark
kit tells the story

[wolfhaunt]

MARK

[espen.]

Username: espen.
Cat Name: Saëvel
Gender: Tom [ he / him ]
Rank: Old King of Rusmia (pronounced RUES-mia)
Clan: The Principality
Age: 150 moons, legend is about 500 moons old
Prompt: to tell them a tale of an old king, the king was the ruler of a neighboring kingdom to Selasorba, which was the name of an ancient superpower city, they had classical greek architecture and enjoyed luxurious lives, when one day famines and plagues struck, toppling their empire
Selasorba's king reached out to Rusmia's king and other neighboring countries for aid, but they had always envied the luxury enjoyed by Selasorbans and refused to help them, feeling above such tasks and reveling in Selasorba being knocked off their high horse, Rusmia attacked and Saeval led many seiges against the city

As had been the routine for many moons, the warriors of the Principality solemnly collected their weapons, donned their armor, and prepared for yet another battle away from their loved ones. Sentries of all classes sharpened the last inch of their blades before bowing their heads to the Maidens and lining up in formation. The Knights broke away from their huddle and dispelled the worry-ridden air around them as they turned to their troops. Mottled coats and torn ears shifted from one paw to the other as their battle briefing came to an end. The formidable cluster of cats marched out of the camp and to their impending doom, leaving behind their loves ones and everything they held dear. It was a gamble to leave the camp, for any cat of any age. The kittens squirmed their way to the entrance of their tent, piling on top of their friends and siblings to catch one last glimpse of those brave warriors. The pyramid of fuzzy bellies and stringy tails was toppled as a plump she-cat nudged the babies back inside their warm abode. She tutted and aggressively groomed their ruffled fur.

"Now, now, kittens, those brave cats are off to defend our borders from the scary rogues. They know what they're doing, so it would be best not to fret about their fate." The she-cat, known as Queenly Doe, tutted at the kits, displaying her usual strict exterior. It contrasted greatly with the warm glow of her barley-colored coat and her bright sapphire eyes. One would assume she'd be as comforting and welcoming as her soft, pot-bellied outline suggested but she took her job as Head Maiden too seriously for such foolishness. She beckoned the kits to gather around a small, magical firepit in the center of the tent. One of their highly respected and experienced Pyro Magus had designed the flame to never consume its wooden host fully, and to never produce anything more than a soft wisp of smoke, to aid in the ambiance of the tent. The toasty and fluffy nests that ringed the flames were filled with equally soft kitten bodies whose hearts were filled with grumblings of missed parents and yearnings for adventure. Queenly Doe pursed her thin lips at the unhappy children around her, knowing full-well they would spend the next few hours complaining, fidgeting with their fur, and being overall nuisances. Perhaps it was time for a tale...

The kits were sternly instructed to sit their butts down and listen to the Head Maiden begin her tale. It all started centuries prior, in the ancient times of marble pillars and decadent statues of gods and heroes. Selasorba was the richest of the old cities, its place promptly in the middle of the continent. Its citizens enjoyed sleek architecture, plush lives, and no cares in the world. Their king was benevolent, after all, and their culture thrived off of philosophy and wine. They were the envy of all the land, and many outsiders told tall tales of their paws being dipped in gold.

As one would expect, the neighboring nations did not favor the Selasorbans with their silk scarves and haughty attitudes. They despised the wealthy nation, whispering schemes and treason amidst the shadows of their streets. Danger brewed just beyond Selasorba's horizon, and yet its citizens bathed in the rich waters of their home, quite unaware.

On one particularly decadent throne in one particularly poor nation sat a regal feline. His sleek, dark, and muscular form adorned a red ruby-encrusted throne, and his menacing eyes scanned his court. The wealthy members squirmed under his gaze and tried their best to shrink into the most unassuming shape they could muster. Saëvel, tyrant king of Rusmia, was notoriously explosive; a feather-light touch from an innocent bystander was enough to set off his fuse and have him blow up in their face. His victims were never what you would consider lucky, and slinking off with your life was a prized punishment from the monarch. Ruthless was the only fit word to describe him.

As luck would have it, all those years of spilling words dipped in poison, praying and yearning for the downfall of Selasorba, had produced a result. Famines, illness, and suffering swept over the Selasorban lands like a hawk swooping and diving for its prey. The once decadently draped and adorned cats with more pride in their hearts than blood were reduced to shriveled and helpless little mice surrounded by their ravenous feline neighbors. While the cattle succumbed to fits of coughing, wheezing and exhaustion, the felines were attacked on all fronts. The air turned putrid, the acrid scent filling their lungs with dismay as their neighbors sowed new, healthy seeds of destruction.

Those tentative trade partners took advantage of their common enemy and closed in on the crumbling pillars and infected farmland. Each front of hungry, driven soldiers left smoldering debris in their wake as they marched to the city's center. News amongst the peasant farmers spread as fast as those enemy fires and soon they surrendered at the first sight of foreign flags whipping in the sulfurous air. They too had shared many of the same grievances as their enemies, but alas, they were as tethered to the Selasorbans as the very wheat they rooted in the ground. The troops, having ransacked the outer farmlands, approached the grand walls of Selasorba, dry timbers and sharpened steel in paw. From the western front, came soldiers adorned in ashen armor and black-tipped swords, their ruby-red helmet plumes ruffled by the wind. Saëvel was dipped from ear tip to paw in the finest crafted steel armor. It shone like obsidian and drank in the light around it. The void's silhouette was only disturbed by the blood red rubies encrusting the edges of every plate. Although Rusmia was a poor and starving kingdom, the king's violent speeches and chilling, cold eyes had pierced the hearts of his troops and imbued them with a renewed fervor for battle. They ruthlessly charged the city walls, toppling the superpower with pure brute force. The soft, round-bellied felines of Selasorba cried out as their troves of treasure succumbed to more, red-hot flames and their lives crumpled under the pressure of karmic destruction. Saëvel, ruthless and malevolent king of Rusmia, ordered Selasorba's council cats to be gathered in the city square for a demonstration. Lifting his wicked, jagged blade over his head, he brought it down upon each and every one of the cats who had ever wronged him. The rage and utter disgust with Selasorba strengthened his paws as he eliminated the very heart of that elistist society who had, for so long, looked down on the likes of him. The felines around the city square looked on in complete horror as their plush existence caved in, and the era of wealth and prosperity for their motherland's offspring came to an end.

Queenly Doe straightened up as the tale came to a close, and she caught her breath. The few kits who were still conscious looked up at her, eyes wider than a full moon and painted with awe. The Head Maiden concluded the story with a curt nod. She yawned and prodded the remaining kits to go to bed, for she was exhausted from the story and desperate for them to sleep. The kits, in shock from the immaculate storytelling from their superior, obliged and kneaded their nests before promptly laying down and dozing off. They dreamt of joining the Principality's troops on the battlefield, fighting to defend their own motherland, much like the soldiers of ancient history.

[Mercuré]

mark!

[lacke]

Mark!!!

[Zentropy]

Shadow Mage / Wyvern King

Illustrated manuscript detailing the legend, found amongst Jaguarhowl's possessions

[craig?]

Username:
Cat Name:
Gender:
Rank:
Clan: (Please link)
Age: (1 year or above)
Prompt:

reserve . concept - the same legend told over and over at different points in time and by different cats, with their own spin and developments the story took over time.