she/her | 22 | find me in: AASB, Noctus, Star Shirepfp: radion | bg: robeighn
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Summitclan's Home
The true birth of Summitclan occured after my fiancee and I toiled up the great side of Buck Mountain, but there was another mountain that was just as instrumental - Roostercomb.
The journey to and up Roostercomb was fraught with uncertainty; we had originally gone to take a different hike, but complications turned us away. Roostercomb was a hasty decision made in disappointment, and it showed - the trek up was hard, steep and confusing. Quite often we turned ourselves on our own heads, the trail markers the same color of the leaves and scrub around us - a pale orange. Come on, man!
But the view was legendary. Of course it was. It was this view that inspired the view Summitclan has from its vantage point - from their home you can see a vast, great distance below.
For Christmas this year, my stepfather handed us a map of the Adirondacks High Peaks area. While Roostercomb is not one of the legendary Forty-Six, it does live among them... that said, here is the area around Roostercomb on said map! How small our warriors will be, eclipsed by so many great behemoths!
But size does not equal importance! When making a character, it's paramount to remember how big the world around them is, because small creatures fight hard. To us a seed means nothing, but to a mouse? Everything!
The cats of Summitclan hold near to them the changing of their world, the changing of their friends, and of course - the sameness of the moon and sun, light and day, death and birth. The world is huge, but when you look upon the moon, so too has your most distant ancestor - and remarked at the shape of a rabbit in its craters!
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Harbored in the Ways You Won't Forget
The promise of tomorrow is whispered on the wing of the eve's last raven, but Honeypaw doesn't quite know it yet. Her gaze is shifting, ever suspicious of the shadows that peer closely into her soul, never mind the treetops or the eyes lurking there. The shadows make her warm, but uneasy, as she supposed they make any young apprentice — one dawn away from being given her name.
Her mentor, his body stiff, gives nothing away but the flick of his ears. They are mismatched — one black, one white — and she remembers when the elders told her stories of their opposition as if one pair of opposites could open a gate to the old gods. At the time, she had listened in earnest: her eyes fastened to the sovereign's maw as another elder wove flowers into her fur. It had been the eve before she took her first name — her suffix earned before a jury of many - and she had listened and listened to their pretty lies until her ears nearly bled. She could barely pick up her head the next morning; Honeypaw's mother had lifted her only daughter's head with the plume of her tail and muttered a terse reminder to smile.
'Smile, or the Gods will know we harbor sin in our hearts, Honeypaw.'
Often enough, the femme had begun reminding herself with a similar harshness, even if in the moment she had regaled her mother with an icy look of fury.
She lifts her head to the trees where the raven gives itself away, a soft caw emitting from its sharpened beak, but she does not avert her eyes or bow her head. Her mentor says nothing, but he watches her now with slitted eyes. He knows her thoughts, and yet she thinks them anyway:
Let them know I harbor sin in my heart, for as much justice as they claim is in theirs.
When Elmstar speaks, his voice carries like a chill that crawls down her spine in the dead of night, when she swears the shadows thicken. "Honeypaw," he warns, looking to her instead of the damned raven, who begins cawing furiously at the pair. "Temper yourself. I cannot shield the Gods from your fury."
"Then don't," a new voice replies, easing the spite Honeypaw cradles close to her. She almost addresses them, even, but can't bother to spare the newcomer enough respect for it. Jackdawfur doesn't scold her for it, after all, so the energy is better not wasted. "There is always a place for anger at Falcon's Nest. You know this, Elmstar. They do not see us punished for such trivial things."
"Thank Hawk," Honeypaw mutters, feeling the intensity of Jackdawfur's stare weigh her down. Still, he only smiles, amusement flickering in the depths of his eyes.
Elmstar wastes no more time beside his apprentice, and Honeypaw almost scoffs at his quiet 'do well'. As soon as he slips from view, taking the portal between his ears with him, her claws slip free from their sheaths and a growl rumbles low in her chest. "If to commune with the Gods means being that insufferable, I'd prefer the life of a secular mole. He's just glad to be rid of me," Honeypaw spits. The raven caws.
Jackdawfur sighs, for if Elmstar is glad to be rid of her, then he would be no reader of the divine. "I understand you two have your differences." He almost stops there, but the narrowing of the apprentice's eyes urges him onwards. "There is little Elmstar cannot teach you, Honeypaw. Perhaps trust in him that he may afford you a little kindness, when it counts, for being so attentive in your studies."
She hardly cares for how he flatters her, and a snarl draws her teeth into view. "Attentive! I'd like to find your head beneath the water, gurgling all the prayers you can recall until you begin to speak new ones into history!" Her tail lashes behind her, and her claws dig into the earth. "I wouldn't say a kind word in Falcon's direction, if I could go back for a second!"
Jackdawfur sighs a prayer under breath, and the raven above falls silent. "I rather liked that bird," he says, his voice careening towards something sad, as though holding a funeral for a perfectly intact creature. Honeypaw observes the bird. The raven hops on the branches, swinging his gaze downwards. She shakes off the imminent feeling of despair. The Gods have tricked her using less. The tom continues, "And you’d do best to understand limits when you meet them. Falcon's patience is not endless. Neither is mine."
Honeypaw's eyes meet the healer's: I thought there is always a place for anger at Falcon's Nest?
The two felines stare at each other, an unspoken challenge woven into the air around them. Honeypaw reaches her tolerance for his presence, and when she moves to leave their standoff, he merely steps aside. The ground feels cooler to the touch.
Honeypaw doesn't look back, even as the air shifts, and the raven hits the ground.
#warrior cats#warrior cats fanfic#wc ocs#divine lament#writing#wrenwrites#sanctified by matt maeson single handedly wrote this#wc fic
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This is What We Know - Prologue
In 2021, I sloppily wrote one of my favorite stories I've ever written, and it's haunted me ever since. I've always looked back on it, knowing the potential it had if I gave it any semblance of a re-attempt, as the short chapters and late term plot adjustments made it suffer the first time through. So I'm rewriting it, and giving it the best shot I've got.
If you like warrior cats with a completely original cast, and found family is one of your favorite tropes, it may be worth a shot for you!
You may manage to see more of it from me, anyhow, as I begin piecing it back together from it's original form :)
#wrenwrites#TIWWK#shameless fanfic plug#warrior cats#warriors oc#i feel like wc fanfics can so easily just not be warriors if naming systems and ranks were changed#at what point is it more general xeno than it is fanfiction#did i mention the cats are gay?
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and a yellow moon glowed bright
Years later, when Ivypool herself is only a memory and before she’s completely lost to time, she’ll look over ThunderClan, wherever they might be, and still look for her daughter in every face.
The stories have it wrong already, and the truth will be dust before long. Bristlefrost isn’t alive in their memories. She’s twice-dead, drowned in black, choking water, a light snuffed out too soon. Bristlefrost was the prodigy — the daughter cats dreamed of, the first to find her voice and her paws, the leader of her siblings, the apprentice who did not graduate even earlier than she did because there was no prey in the forest to be found, not because of any failings on her part.
Cats starved, that long winter. Not Bristlefrost. Never her daughter, her clever, resourceful last-born. And she had once occupied this spot, designated for deputies, even though she’d never had an apprentice of her own. Would never have an apprentice of her own, now, even though she deserved it more than anything. Even though she’d deserved to stay deputy, but had given the role over with a smile, no hint of dark ambition in her gaze.
Ivypool steps into the deputy position under a brand-new leader with a whisper instead of a bang, the pounding of blood in her ears the only reminder that cats had been here before — that cats had died here before, and that Bramblestar’s first deputy becoming leader was a fluke, an odd quirk of fate. It hasn’t been done in living memory, nor long before that. Leaders do not usually step down, and when they do, they rarely stay with their Clan, or even within reach of their territory. First deputies do not often become leaders in turn. Usually this event is a bittersweet one, with a body or bodies laid out in the clearing, their eyes closed swiftly to avoid the rigor of after-death, but this is almost-peaceful, with only the murmurs of those who could not easily accept change as detractors.
Ivypool will die long before Squirrelstar. She’s—surprisingly okay with this, but she thinks she’s been at peace with her death since before Hollyleaf had stepped between her and a deathblow from one of the only friends she’d ever had.
(“You were my friend!” Ivypool screams in her worst nightmares, Hollyleaf’s blood dripping from her pelt.
“I was never anyone’s friend,” Hawkfrost murmurs in return, something aching-sad in his voice, Hollyleaf’s lifeless form pinned under his claws. “I was born to what I am. We’re the same, you and I.” He pushes the black cat away from his paws with disgust — not for the body, but for Ivypool herself. Blood bubbles from the horrible wound at the corpse’s throat. “She should have been the one,” he says sometimes, in the ones that shatter her already pieced-together heart. “She died in your place.”
“I know,” Ivypool says, and she does know — she knows it more than anyone else alive.)
“It should have been Hollyleaf,” she says to Squirrelstar, quietly, at the end of one of their dusk meetings.
Sorrow flashes in Squirrelstar’s gaze, but it’s buried as soon as it comes. “It’s you,” she says. “It has always been you.”
It is not a truth — not in the way Ivypool remembers them from her childhood — but it is not a lie, either. Hollyleaf chose her, in the way dying deputies might choose their successor. She is always an echo of another cat burned by starlight. It is a comfort, sometimes. In others, she begs the spirit who’d saved her life for mercy, for clemency, until she runs out of breath.
(“I’ll find her,” whispers a voice Ivypool had almost forgotten, in dreams she forgets as soon as she wakes. “I’ll walk the skies ceaselessly, I promise you.”
But there is no bringing Bristlefrost back, and a part of Ivypool has died with her.)
When Ivypool wakes, her Clanmates breathe around her, steadying her rabbit-quick heart. Fernsong’s tail wraps snugly around her flank, Thriftear curled only one nest behind, and she does not lose her breath at the way Flipclaw’s dark tabby stripes curl over his spine. She hasn’t in a long time, she knows, but the impulse is there, sharp as ice underneath her ribs.
(She’d once thought his brown tabby pelt a punishment from the stars. She loves her son, would give her life for him, but the feeling that StarClan may have meted some punishment down in the shade of his pelt remains long after he’s received his warrior name.
She’d begged Bramblestar to give him a suffix that was as unassumingly kind and silly as her son always was. Instead he’d given him -claw, as if to remind her of her failings. She is not sorry to see his form slip into the elders’ den, bereft of the nine lives he’d once so jealously hoarded.)
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guys will see a location and think wow thats a great place for a clan of warrior cats
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SUMMITCLAN CHRONICLES (SCC) is an 18+ roleplay inspired by xenofiction like Warrior Cats, Watership Down, Ratha's Creature, Zorba and Lucky, and the beautiful surroundings of the New York State Adirondacks.
Life is hard in the mountains. Creatures fight for every mouthful - for every birth is a death.
But does it have to be cruel forever, always? The cats of Summitclan came together not for battle but for the color of the leaves, the shine of the moon, the hush of fallen snow; together their ancestors brought forth a world where cats have carved a gentle soul into the slope of the harsh mountains. Where food is hidden away to feed the sick when the cold times come; where there are plants that quicken the healing of splintered bones; where one's newborns are always safe and loved. A kitten of Summitclan is a kitten that was told through act and word how wanted they were - and an elder never passes alone.
Life was hard in the mountains. So they changed how life was lived.
Could Summitclan be the perfect refuge, high on those wooded mountain peaks, in the eye of those ancestors who cared so deeply?
We offer you..
• A calm, loving, adult Warrior Cats community that assumes the best in you & others.
• A unique single-character model where every member has one cat with whom they experience Summitclan - in birth, through life, and in death.
• Exclusive lore and worldbuilding that must be taught to new generations & incomers.
• A system of real-time years and seasons with extended days and nights for extra roleplay time, with weather reflecting the Adirondacks themselves.
• A slow-burn style experience where characters are expanded upon as if they were living beings, evolving as they experience, conflict, learn, reflect and adapt.
• A series of unique festivals year-round to bring the community and clan together as a unit, each themed after a season and its associated needs.
• Resources and prompts members can access to give them ideas for interactions & relationships during slow periods or writer's blockages.
• Staff with high expectations and explicit instructions on how to settle disagreements and keep members lighthearted.
• A support system for less experienced roleplayers to learn from more experienced members.
• A stable design made to last beyond any single member, easily passed down so that it does not abruptly die.
And before you join, I want to inform you ...
This roleplay features feral cats living wild in the Adirondack Mountain Range. Everyday activities including hunting small to medium animals, possibly fending off small to large threats, cats being born + possibly not surviving long after, and cats recieving varying injuries, contracting varying sicknesses, or even losing their lives in tragic ways. All things will be handled with grace, and the roleplay is designed to be balanced rather than leaning toward good or bad events, but you will not be able to avoid these themes upon joining.
Interested in coming along on our adventure? I couldn't be more pleased, and I can't wait to meet you!
Who Are You Looking For?
We are looking for people that are creative, gentle, patient, open-minded, friendly and considerate. If you're someone who indulges in lightheartedness just as often as you do the dark side, and can see the gentle edge in everything, this might be for you...
Our Application:
https://forms.gle/r9XH9ngYCwayAcjBA
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"Someday, I'll be the greatest leader that ThunderClan's ever seen!" "Yeah, and I'll be your medicine cat!"
If only you had held on a little longer.
[repost because I forgot the whiskers on the 2nd slide and it was going to haunt me]
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Goofy, cannot think
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“There will always be a person who looks like a poem the earth wrote to keep you alive.”
— Juansen Dizon
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All the out of context reasons to join @aasb-rp <3
#aasb wcrp#discord wcrp#wcrp#out of context shit#out of context quotes#i love this roleplay with everything in my body
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Silly!
#i would protect this man with my life#mal i’m begging you to keep drawing him happy#he deserves the world#he deserves so much love#the sun#the universe#and more
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YAAAAYYYY BLUESTAR
[ reblogs > likes ; don't like if you aren't going to reblog ]
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Finished piece of my friend @rook-inthe-valley and I’s characters for the @theclansofnoctusrp !
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ＳＩＮＩＳＴＥＲ ☽ ＨＡＶＥＮ
@rook-inthe-valley
Sinister Haven may have been inspired by Erin Hunter’s Warrior Cats, but it’s far from your typical Warriors roleplay site. We shatter whatever “traditional” means and redefine it.
Rated 3 1 3, 18 +, Jcink Rp Community
-ˋˏＳＨ ✧ L I N K S ˎˊ- -
Link to our website and discord server. Please note that you must join our discord server in addition to the website to have your account verified. You will not be able to see the full website until an administrator has verified your account.
Discord Link »» https://discord.gg/eKW686fNB4
Site Link »» https://sinisterhaven.com
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