The Clan Origins is the product of the minds of Ventus, Dae and Owl; all contents are copyright their original owners. All characters belong to their original creators, and may not be used or replicated without permission. All images are copyright their original owners.
Site Grand Opening! Feel free to post around our respective boards and keep an eye out for any site-wide or clan specific plots!
High Rank Auditions are now open. Staff will not make their decision until we have at least 3 applicants or until we have more members join, whichever comes second.
You may now post your character applications, our site is not open yet, however, staff would like to see where you are with your character ideas so we may help you if you need to fix anything so your cat is ready by the time we open! Please refrain from making kit and apprentice characters. Check in on Bans and Encouragement thread to keep up to date on this restriction. 1/15/19
Final touches are being done and the site will be open!
Spring was always a plentiful time for Thunderclan. The warming moons brought prey out of its dens and the sprigs of herbs that Littlefang definitely needed to restock. However, she presumed that they wouldn't be awake yet. As the sun cracked through the trees, Finchstar was often awake while her Medicine Cat was not. They liked sleeping in, and the tuxedo she-cat would let them, especially if they were going to be receiving a message from Starclan. For now, the she-cat sat herself down outside her den, grooming bits of moss out of her fur.
A flick of their ears, a swish of their tail; Littlefang comes into wakefulness with a reluctance that is palpable. How they wished they could sleep the whole day away! Curl up in a sliver of sunlight and bask in whatever dreams Starclan deigned to send them; maybe even visit with their deceased mentor. But alas, there were places to be and cats to see, so they clamber out of their nest with a mrow of protest and stretch their tired muscles.
It was time to get up.
Newleaf was, by far, Littlefang’s busiest time of year. Not because of sickness or injury, but because it was when all the shriveled up plants finally began to flower the herbs they so desperately needed. Ages away though it may be, this was when they began to stock for the unforgiving cold of Leafbare, carefully cultivating the fragile buds. For now, though, work was the furthest thing from their mind. The first order of business: breakfast! With a spring in their step the tiny cat traipses out of the confines of their den, bright eyes squinting against the sudden onslaught of sunlight before zeroing in on their target: the freshkill pile. Pawing through it and placing various kills off to the side - jay, quail, vole - they grin triumphantly when they finally come across a mouse. Snatching it up and plopping down in a fat patch of sun, they take a second to squint up at the leader’s den. Sure enough, Finchstar was there, returning her pelt to it’s usual pristine condition.
”Good morning, o’ fearless leader!” They chirp, long whiskers quivering. ”Awake awfully early as usual, I see.”