Hiddenclan ✧

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    A clan hidden amongst an overbearing fog that surrounds the pine forest they live in.

    The cats do not know how long or why their forest has been shrouded in this fog, only that it never dissipates and that no matter how far a cat travels in one direction they always wind up back where they started. No cat can leave the forests boundaries. And no cat can come in.

    The name the clan goes by is not its original either, no one truly knows what it once was. However, it seems the elders still hold close ancient tales that have been past down to them from before the clan settled in the pine forest and before the fog.

    It is perpetually leaf-fall.

    The air is heavy and moist. Many young and elders suffer from lung infections due, their are herbs a plenty to help heal them, but the weak still die. Birth rates are low, have been for as long as can be remembered, large litters of kits are a rarity.

    It feels as if time has stopped in the forest, nothing ever seems to decay or erode. New life is constant in foliage and prey so the clan has never felt the fear of hunger and are quite resistant to poisons now.

    Sometimes however, the fog plays with you. Maybe you hear a voice of a long dead cat, or the cry of a kit in the distance. Occasionally, perhaps, from the corner of your eye a figure can be spotted staring at you through the mist. But it is gone by the time you dare to look directly at it. It is advised that you do not listen to what these voices whisper to you or follow them. Cats that do tend to wind up dead, falling from steep slopes or drops, or are never seen or heard from again, their bodies never found.

    But Hiddenclan is cursed through and through. There are things in the forest, in the fog, that haunts the generations of secrets told in allegory through the tales the elders tell.

    Outsiders are not welcome in the forest and neither are the forest cats of Hiddenclan welcome outside the fogs barriers. They are but a myth told to outside clans that should they wander too far from their own boarders and too close to the pine trees, ghostly cats will drag them into the fog to never be seen again.

    Nightmares and history of cats long forgotten haunt the dreams of the clans leader with no idea how to sort through it after they wake up. There are cats in these nightmares that watch them, with stars in their pelts, saying things the leader cannot hear. All that is clear is that there are secrets in Hiddenclan that needs to be uncovered before the clan dies out completely.


    It is only just recently that Ghostfoot, the leader of Hiddenclan has past on to leave his son Fogstalker to lead the clan in his stead. Fogstalker has already suffered the recent disappearance of his mate, Paletree and is having difficulty adjusting to his sudden rise to power...








    Fogstalker [Khepri] A solid, silvery-blue tom with vivid green eyes. His pelt is short and plush.



    Fadingnight [tamsen] Slate gray-blue and white maine coon with yellow hues


    Mushroompaw [carton.] A lilac colored she-cat with mid-length fur and darker leaf green eyes


    Mistwhisper [Khepri] A small light gray ticked she cat with an ivory underbelly and large hazel eyes

    Ivoryspider [tamsen] A slim, alabaster tom with dark blue eyes and long legs

    Wolfheart [Casphian] A large cream and orange long furred tom with amber eyes

    Coldnight [NPC]

    Mistletoe [Lyn] A slim, blue point she-cat with beautiful sea-blue eyes.


    Chasingpaw [carton.] A blue-gray short furred tom with long legs and tail with leaf green eyes

    Poplarpaw [carton.] A fawn and cream short furred she-cat with hazel eyes



    Dustybird [NPC]


    Ember [xRedxPepperx] A handsome, sleek furred trans tom tortie with amber eyes







    Hiddenclans territory is a sprawling pine forest split between a vast river with waterfalls and dangerous rapids. It is the eastern forest that Hiddenclan is located in, their camp a clearing in the center with a towering old pine tree its focal point. To the north, up a gradual incline is the clans main water source, and to the east is the Deep River.

    The ground is soft and cushioned from shed pine nettles and the forest is always fairly silent. Bird song is rare to come by except during the early mornings, but crickets can still be heard every night.


    A wide body of water with swiftly rushing water that is very dangerous to cross what with the lack of visibility and strength of the under current. There are no stepping stones where the water level is on the same level as the land and the only place where it is narrow enough to be crossed is between two cliffs with a deadly drop down a waterfall that leads to the Black-Tooth Rapids.


    The Deep River drops into a long and narrow waterfall and the space it creates is a treacherous cliff that if fallen off of means certain death. The space between the land is just too far for a cat to jump and get to the other side safely, yet is the only viable place to cross into the western side of the forest. There is a large, long dead tree that looks like it's about to tip over, but there are still root holding it in place.


    The river picks up speed here and becomes dangerous rapids with sharp rocks jutting out from the water. It is not recommended to fall into these waters as it is easy to be swept away.


    A clearing by the shores of the Black-Tooth Rapids where Apprentices go to train. And where the clan likes to play its capture the flag games.



    A pile of moss covered rocks a very tall pine tree has grown out of. There is a burrow located within a crevice in the pile that is used as the leaders den.

    The leader can climb to the top of the rock pile to make announcements.


    A large, hollowed out log buried under the ground and shielded by hanging moss makes up the Medicine Cats den.


    A hard to notice hole in the ground, dug out by maybe foxes or badgers, hidden by foliage. It's been dug out to be much larger inside.


    Under the gnarled roots of a long dead tree are two burrows nearly hidden by lichen and a tangle of low growing ivy. The two tunnels make up the Rogue and Apprentices den.


    Due to many moons of isolation from the outside world, the cats have bred out a majority of the colors their pelts are. So diluted that the only colors that they can be are silver/blue/gray, lilac/lavender, fawn, cream, light amber, white, and dilute torties HC cats are also very weak early moons of life and vulnerability to pneumonia due to their territory constantly covered in fog is watched out for vigilantly as well as other near fatal deceases. And because of high rate of white cats, deafness is something they deal with every so often, but at this point, the silence is not an issue to them as most sounds get swallowed up by the forest so Deaf cats have still been able to provided well into their adult life.

    HC cats are also mildly resistant to most poisonous plant in their territory and have little difficulty eating them to help cure certain ailments.



    The figure appeared as the cats around them slept.

    From the center of the camp they stalked through to where the warriors slept. The cats were packed, close and warm in the still slight chill the spring nights sprung, but they figure paid little heed to them, they were not of importance as much as the curled up figure on the far end of the den.

    Slowly, as if the feline was afraid of waking a sleeping body should they step wrong, the translucent being with starlight flickering in their paws stopped before the sleek furred tortie. The figure took a moment, allowing a mournful sigh to escape them, as if the thought of disturbing the cats sleep pained them. They lowered their head down to the living cats ear.

    "Come little fire light...it's time for you to finish what I put in motion."

    And with that, the star freckled feline vanished.

    They look down from their perch in the Great Pine as the silver-gray form below sits vigil for the still body at their paws. From this height it was hard to see through the fog, but they were not mortal and as such had no mortal limitations to their sight.

    "This is the one." one figure said with knowing conviction. The other turned towards her, a lost, longing look in their eyes as they tried to glean some sort of understanding the other seemed to have.

    "How can you tell?"

    The first figure, slighter than the other with a long plumey tail smiled kindly at the other even as their eyes shown with amusement.

    "You never had as many chances as I to lead, my precious kit. But when you were given the chances I was, you pick up things about others easily."

    "So you're not going to explain it?"

    "It cannot be explained, look, listen, watch...feel it to your very core and you will know what I know."

    The sturdier built figure tilted their head as they witnessed the hunched over form of the young leader. Far to young and inexperienced to have to take over the responsibility to his clan. My clan. Mine, Faithheart's, and Foreversky's.

    They shook their head, still unsure.

    "They will be saved, my dear one. The little fire will grow here, and they will burn brightest in the place that helps them grow as long as your clan decides to nourish it."

    "I hope you are right...Mother."

    The figures watch a moment more before they vanish into nothing.

  • tracking until i see a good opportunity ember can crash the party!

    ~* how rare and beautiful it is to even exist *~

    Red || 19 || he/him || EST || community engineer || artist and coder

    eaglespirit || windclan

    golden || riverclan

    caspian || solaris

    pm for any need

    discord redxpepper#8717

  • Fogstalker sat in the center of camp before his fathers still body. He was haunched over and unmoving himself, like a statue. His blue furred tail lay out behind him, unchecked and unmoving. Every bit of the regal tom was focused on the body. His vivid eyes gave nothing away to the overwhelming grief this short time had brought him. His only tell, were the front paws, constantly flexing to allow his claws to dig into the ground and make needle thin gouges in the soft earth.

    It was an issue with his lungs, something that he had been struggling with for the last several moons if Fadingnight had told him the truth. And the medicine cat had little use to lie to him.

    But why did it have to be now? Why did he have to die? Fogstalker was still young, and he knew he still had plenty to learn about how to lead his tiny clan. He was not ready, he still had too much on his mind, this one extra burden could break him. It was moments like this, when he feels he's forgotten how to breath, that he pines for Paletree all the more.

    How does one get over their own pain to take over a role they didn't want to deal with anyways?

    Mistwhisper sat vigilantly by the entrance to the rogues den with a pensive expression. Ghostfoot is dead and Fogstalker looked as lost as he always did when it came to his father. The tom sat there, stock still, a meer silhouette in the fog covering camp.

    The older she-cat thought about taking Chasingpaw out for a bit, the depressing atmosphere that was choking the camp was something she wanted to get away from, and she knew this was not a good environment for them right now. Her blunt tipped tail twitched as she thought of offering the same escape to Ivoryspider and Chasingpaws sister, Poplarpaw.

  • Mistletoe had been watching for quite some time. With the heavy fog that plagued HiddenClan allowing little sunlight to hit the forest floor, telling time had become impossible. The slim point hardly seemed to want to bother with it anyway. Her limbs had kept her frozen in her hidden cover of the camp. Her blue-tinted coat blended with the ferns of her hiding spot, allowing only her sea-blue eyes to penetrate through the dark-green color of plantlife. She had been watching Fogstalker in silence, debating over and over again in her head if she should offer some advice over the death of his father or remain in her buried silence.

    At the time of her mother's death some odd moons ago, she had wished that her clanmates stop attempting to rationalize death or offer their condolences. It had only sought to annoy her. All their words had simply been just that... words. How could they have possibly known what she had been feeling? Contradictory to her mother, the death of her father not a moon later had been a time of Mistletoe's need for connection. Her clanmates' words had brought her comfort and isolation had been utterly maddening. Her own, different reactions had led her to face uncertainty in the light of Ghostfoot's death.

    Should see simply say she was sorry or should she let him grieve in peace and continue as life does? Through no noteworthy influence than her own piece of mind, Mistletoe made her decision. The slim she-cat picked herself up from her crouched position and stalked forward on nimble paws. The pitter-patter of her paws made barely a noise as she edged closer to Fogstalker and took a rigid stance at his side. "Fogstalker." She coaxed gently. The warrior's voice was hardly above a whisper. "Are you alright? Perhaps... perhaps you should take a walk, and sit vigil for him tonight once you've cleared your mind."

    you're my waking thought,

    ( my sweetest dream )

    and everything in between.

  • Wolfheart was at a loss for what to do at this moment. His friend was hurting and now thrown into the place of leadership over the small clan and yet he couldn't tell if he should try to go over and comfort the other feline. Wolfheart pushed himself up onto his paws and paced a bit, trying to think of what he should do before his attention was turned to movement that he had caught out of the corner of his eye. He watched as Mistletoe padded up to Fogstalker and spoke to the rigid tom and watching that exchange helped to make up his mind.

    Wolfheart made his way over to the two felines, catching the bare end of what Mistletoe had said to Fogstalker. "A walk would definetly be good for you, in fact I could accompany you on said walk so you don't have to go alone, we won't even have to take," he suggested. The male wanted to be there for his friend, and his leader, in anyway that he possibly could and if that meant just accompanying him on a silent walk then so be it.


  • Another day brought dragged around, the blinding fog giving no indicators as to what time of day it was. Mute yellow spectacles blinked solemnly, the woman departing from the comfort of her medicine den to break out into the clearing that hung heavy with grief. The still corpse belonging to her leader lay protected by his son, his death coming far from a surprise to the woman. He had been growing ill from what she suspected to be the damning effects of the fog and what it brought, though she'd never truly know if that were the cause. His lungs had deteriorated too quickly, weakening the young man to the point where he soon took his last strained breath. It was unfortunate, but she had done everything she could. Luck was not on his side that day.

    Drawing forth, her cranium dipped lightly to Fogstalker, delicate slate-blue fur ruffling as she focused on Ghostfoot's body. "He fought hard and I fought even harder to try and save him, but his illness was too far gone. His spirit belongs to the fog now. May we hear his voice again among the whispers in the forest." Fadingnight spoke with accepting words, grief passing rather quickly as death was sadly normal for the woman to face.

    She took the opportunity to press her nose into the deceased's fur, taking in his scent one more time before she backed off. They would need to bury the body soon, returning it to the soil that brought the forest life and vitality, but she wouldn't press the issue until Fogstalker was ready.

    information "speech"

    A ghostly alabaster form held its ground in the outskirts of the clearing, dark oceanic hues scanning the scene before it. The man had shied away from the mourning of his leader, death being a rather touchy issue with the passing of his mate and kits not too long ago. His jaw clenched as his sight passed over Fogstalker and his still father, unable to give any words of sorrow or apology to his clanmate.

    Thorny weapons of keratin found themselves embedded in the cool soil as Ivoryspider stared on, ears swiveling with concealed anxiety. He searched for the familiar pelt of his apprentice, hoping for a moment to abandon the grief-stricken camp to clear his mind with some training or hunting perhaps.

    information "speech"

  • The blue tom hardly heard Fadingnight's approach before lifting his inexpressive face to her. He focused on her words, her movement as she goes to eye his fathers body, anything to look away. It was hard to swallow what this meant for him.

    "I don't know if hearing him will be a good thing or not." Fogstalker murmured so softly with a defeated sigh. He squeazed his green eyes shut for but a moment, trying to bring his shoulders down. His back hurt from his slouch, yet even forcing his body to relax was a losing battle as it just clamped back up as he tried to form the words he had to say. But the medicine cat moving to respectfully bring her nose to Ghostfoots fur made them form a lump. He nearly choked.

    He was suppose to do that too wasn't he? He was suppose to be showing more emotion, heartache. His father was dead and he had to be the sad son. The short furred cat looked the other way with a troubled expression. His feelings for his father were...complicated, to say the least.

    And that has left him feeling unprepared for this role that he was now raised up to take.

    He wished his father would just raise back up, yawn and stretch his sick stiff body and go back about his day.

    And then Mistletoe was there, at his side, with Wolfheart following soon after. He looked up at them, unsure and lost. Mouth open as if to say something as he looked between them.

    "I...I don't--" his eyes caught on his fathers body again and he felt close to yowling at the dead thing to get back up. He blinked quickly.

    "Du-Dustybird, Fadingnight, Mushroompaw, and I should bury him. That--he should be--I was his son..." he couldn't quite form the right words. He looked to Wolfheart, then to where the camp opened up to their pine forest and away from the grief that permeated across the camp, looking for something. Help maybe? His friend was far better at words than he, Paletree had been far better. He was so use to others speaking for him that he was at a loss as how to say want he needed.