Posts by Larkstorm

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  • Larkstorm of RiverClan

    Character Name: Larkstorm


    Gender: She-cat


    Clan/Group: RiverClan


    Rank: Warrior


    Appearance: Larkstorm is a pretty black smoke tabby with white spotting that covers her entire stomach, chest, and all of her legs, save for a patch of black smoke on her hind leg. White also covers much of her face, leaving only her ears, eyes, tail, and a patch on her back and hind leg marked with black smoke. She has pale blue eyes and a small build. Her paws are small and her legs are long and slender, much like her tail. Her face is more triangular than not and her eyes are rounded like almonds. She has thick fur for repelling water and strong, sturdy shoulders for propelling her tiny body through the water.


    Personality: Larkstorm has a fierce loyalty for those she is close to, and though she is rather shy and wary of change, she will always follow her heart. She is a newer warrior, so her ideas are often admittedly not the best. Nonetheless, her intentions are never for evil. She is a careful and thoughtful cat, the type who will always watch her footing before she steps, so to speak. She never leaps into battle without a plan and never sets out on a hunt for adventure unless she has a companion and a plan. Her careful, often tentative ways can make her slow in battle or in a hunt, and often she may seem unprepared, yet her ways are never hasty or impulsive, which, more often than not, pays off.


    History: Larkstorm was not born as 'Lark-kit', but as 'Stormkit'. Stormkit was rambunctious and daring, impulsive and impatient. Her mother, Creekflower, favored Stormkit's quiet and reserved brother, Nightkit. Creekflower was a black she-cat with golden-and-green eyes whose pelt was adorned with silver spots. She had silver tabby stripes on her face, tail, and legs. Nightkit had his mother’s eyes, and like Stormkit, he was a black smoke tabby. Nonetheless, unlike Stormkit, his pelt held not a splash of white, save a patch of snowy-white fur he wore on his chest. One time, RiverClan’s territory was threatened by a dog. Stormkit convinced Nightkit to sneak out of camp to fight it. At the mere sight of the beast, the kits fled, and while Nightkit escaped unscathed, Stormkit nearly lost the tip of her tail and now bears an ugly scar to tell the story. She ran into a rabbit hole to take cover and hit her head on a rock, falling unconscious. Creekflower was terrified; Stormkit disappearing was nothing new, but Nightkit never left the nursery without permission. Patrols searched every square inch of RiverClan territory, and even asked the neighboring Clans to keep a lookout. Nightkit was never found; perhaps he was stolen, or killed; not a single tuft of his fur remained. Stormkit, however, was found lying, unconscious, among a pile of lark’s feathers. Creekflower was distraught, and blamed her daughter for Nightkit’s disappearance from that day on. She didn’t speak to her kit for a moon, and even returned to the warrior’s den, forcing her kit to sleep alone. She was bullied by her mother from that day on, and still is. Creekflower’s bullying changed an impatient kit into one who is slightly paranoid and never steps before she knows where she’s stepping. After not speaking to Stormkit for a moon, Creekflower somehow convinced Rangerstar to delay her kit’s apprenticeship for three full moons. Not only that, but she demanded a name change. “She has lost my only kit who had any sense, killed him, fed him to the dogs!” she claimed, although there was no proof he was even dead, let alone that his sister was the murderer. “Exile is what she deserves,” she’d hissed, “although I’m afraid even that’s to good for her. Sentence the little murder to death!” she’d wailed in despair. Rangerstar wouldn’t have it, but agreed to delay her apprenticeship for three moons. “And,” the queen added with a snarl, “from this day on, she will be known as Lostkit. She has lost Nightkit, and she herself was found sleeping peacefully in a nest of down; she has lost the trust of her birth Clan and the trust of all cats who dwell this forest, even the kittypets!” she spat. “I demand a ceremony.” Before Stormkit had received the news, she approached her mother to demand a justification for her ruthless bullying. “Go away, Lostkit!” she sneered before the tiny she-cat could open her mouth. Stormkit shrank into a corner, and studied her tiny white paws. “You are lost to me. You have lost my trust and Rangerstar’s. And in so doing you have lost your mother, expect no ‘loving care’ from me. Get lost, that’s what you should do!” she laughed. “Not even the rogues will take you after this.” Stormkit protested, “But mother, my name’s-“ “Don’t call me that! You are Lostkit, you have proven yourself unworthy of the name I have given you! Prove yourself worthy, and perhaps I’ll reconsider. Oh, and I’ll give you a hint: nothing you can do will prove yourself worthy!” When Creekflower was on patrol, Rangerstar held the ceremony. He didn’t have the heart to condemn Stormkit to the terrible name her mother had suggested. He named her Lark-kit, after the feathers that had cushioned her fall. “Without those feathers,” he said, “Lark-kit likely wouldn’t be here.” Creekfeather continued to bully Lark-kit, but she refused to give in to her mother’s jibes. She would not submit, and it paid off. By the time her warrior ceremony came around, Rangerstar definitely thought she’d lived up to her birth name, and honored her with the name of Larkstorm.

  • New member :P

    You have to submit a form for it? Could I use a character I already have, or would I need to create another? And if I got accepted for advanced, would every character of mine be advanced, even if I entered them as regular?

  • Creekflower of RiverClan

    Character Name: Creekflower


    Gender: She-cat


    Clan/Group: RiverClan


    Rank{if any}: Senior Warrior


    Appearance: Creekflower is a sleek black she-cat with golden-and-green eyes. She is strong and sturdy, with broad shoulders and muscular limbs equally suited for propelling her body through the water and for running like the wind, which is not surprising, considering her half-Clan heritage. Her sleek and shiny pelt is adorned with silver spots, and she as silver tabby marking on her face, tail, and legs. Her nose is as black as a moonless night, and her whiskers are a dark gray. Her pelt is perfect to disguise her in the river on a starry.


    Personality: Creekflower has a fierce loyalty to her Clan, her kin, and StarClan that often fogs her thoughts and words. She has used that fierce loyalty both for good and for bad. She can be a gentle she-cat or a raging warrior; she can be a gentle creek whose bank grows flowers or a dangerous river in full-flood. Her only desire is to serve her Clan and serve it to the best of her ability. From the day she was born, she knew her father was of WindClan, but as she was born into RiverClan, RiverClan was her Clan and the only Clan she would be loyal to. She is a cat of extremes, sometimes her plans are overly cautious and other times dangerous, potentially deadly, and far overboard. She’s not a cat you want as your enemy. Threaten her Clan or her kin and you’ve crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed, and made an enemy of a dangerous warrior.


    History: As far back as she can remember, Creekflower remembered her mother’s words that had chilled her to the bone. As soon as she was old enough to understand, her mother, Tidalsplash, confessed the true identity of the kits’ father: he was Heatherleap, warrior of WindClan. Creek-kit had accepted the news with nothing but an understanding nod of her head. Why should her parentage change anything? She was RiverClan, through and through! No cat knows the truth about her father except her, her parents, and her two brothers, Leopardnight and Troutheart, both of whom dwell in StarClan with their parents. Tidalsplash was a dark blue she-cat with a white splotch on her forehead and deep blue eyes. Leopardnight had the same spotted tabby markings as Creekflower, yet his pelt was a rich and creamy cinnamon that bore dark brown, almost black markings. He had a white chest and green eyes. Troutheart took after his father, Heatherleap. Both of them had a tawny pelt and thick fur. Both had heather gray eyes. Troutheart’s pelt was dappled with white splotches, and his right ear was tipped in a cinnamon color. Leopardnight died as an apprentice, fighting in battle, yet Rangerstar honored him with a warrior name as he passed. Troutheart lived much longer, and although his siblings had been unquestioningly loyal to RiverClan, he fell in love with a WindClan she-cat named Goldensong. She was a lilac golden chinchilla, whose eyes were a pretty leaf green. Troutheart died a fool’s death. He misjudged the leap across the gorge to return home after a meeting with his love, and died among the rocks. His body was never recovered. Creekflower, like her brother, fell in love at a young age. Her darling was Callingriver, a sleek black tom with blue eyes. Just as she was expecting kits, there was a terrible battle and every cat was called to fight. As the fiercely loyal warrior she is, Creekflower joined in the fighting, and had a miscarriage. The couple was distraught, and Creekflower confessed her fears to her true love. She feared this was StarClan’s way of saying that she was not destined to have kits, not meant to be a queen or a mother. “Nonsense!” Callingriver had insisted, but her mind was set. “StarClan has spoken and I must listen. I vow that I will never bear another litter, it is not my destiny.” Despite her vow, several moons later, after Troutheart had died in the gorge, she once again retired to the nursery. “The Clan needs warriors,” she explained. “My brothers have died, and my kits will take their places. I will raise wise and sensible warriors. They will be brave and strong. They won’t be impulsive fools like that brother of mine; warriors like that are a danger to the Clan.” When she had two kits, she was convinced that they were perfect. One was a tom. He was black smoke and had Creekflower’s eyes: golden and green. He was small but he was strong, stronger and bigger than his sister from the second he was born. The she-cat she named Stormkit. She, like her brother, was a black smoke tabby, but white patches covered much of her pelt. Her eyes were blue. “I have named them for the wonderful things they have become. These will be the strongest warriors the Clan has ever seen.” As the kits grew bigger and stronger and opened their eyes, however, Creekflower was disappointed. Stormkit’s size was still puny, and she was way too impatient for Creekflower: impatient, impulsive, daring, the type bound to make rash and foolish decisions. “Kits will be kits,” Callingriver had assured her. “But Nightkit is perfect,” she had argued. “He’s calm, collected, patient, thoughtful, strong, and loyal. He’ll grow into a warrior.” Creekflower always favored her son. Stormkit often disappeared from the nursery, and despite Creekflower’s scorn toward her daughter, she was always worried sick. Nightkit never left without permission, until one day when Stormkit convinced him to join her to battle the dog that threatened RiverClan. The patrols searched and searched, but never found Nightkit. They found Stormkit, unconscious, atop a pile of lark’s feathers. Creekflower left the nursery to sleep in the warrior’s den, leaving her daughter in the nursery alone. She spoke to Callingriver, claiming that “StarClan has spoken again, I was wrong. It is not my punishment that Nightkit is gone, but that Stormkit is still here. She is a danger to the Clan.” Creekflower didn’t speak to Stormkit for a moon. She tried to convince Rangerstar that Stormkit was dangerous. She should be killed, or exiled. Rangerstar wouldn’t have it, so she said that Stormkit should never be allowed to become a warrior. Her apprenticeship was delayed for three moons. She also convinced Rangerstar to change her name, demanding it be changed to Lostkit. Stormkit, unaware of these demands, went to confront her mother. Before she could speak, Creekflower said, “Go away, Lostkit!” she sneered before the tiny she-cat could open her mouth. Stormkit shrank into a corner, and studied her tiny white paws. “You are lost to me. You have lost my trust and Rangerstar’s. And in so doing you have lost your mother, expect no ‘loving care’ from me. Get lost, that’s what you should do!” she laughed. “Not even the rogues will take you after this.” Stormkit protested, “But mother, my name’s-“ “Don’t call me that! You are Lostkit, you have proven yourself unworthy of the name I have given you! Prove yourself worthy, and perhaps I’ll reconsider. Oh, and I’ll give you a hint: nothing you can do will prove yourself worthy!” When Creekflower was on patrol, Rangerstar held the ceremony. He couldn’t stand to condemn Stormkit to such a terrible name. He named her Lark-kit, after the feathers that had cushioned her fall. “Without those feathers,” he said, “Lark-kit likely wouldn’t be here.” Creekfeather continued to bully Lark-kit, but she refused to give in to her mother’s jibes. She would not submit, and it paid off. By the time her warrior ceremony came around, Rangerstar definitely thought she’d lived up to her birth name, and honored her with the name of Larkstorm. Callingriver had died fighting off the dog, and Larkstorm had nearly lost her tail. Creekflower never had another litter, and still believes Larkstorm is a danger to the Clan, and with all her heart, she still strives to expose her for ‘the danger she is’ and reveal her ‘treachery’ to all.

  • Night - Loner

    Character Name: Night


    Gender: Tom


    Clan/Group: Born in RiverClan, now a loner


    Rank: Loner


    Appearance: Night is a black smoke with a white splash on his chest. He has golden eyes rimmed with green. Despite being the age of a warrior, he is relatively small, and very skinny: skinnier, even, than a Clan cat, for he had no mother or father to teach him to hunt. He has strong and sturdy shoulders and thick fur that repels water. He is an expert swimmer, for he was once a RiverClan cat. Unlike the average cat his age, save kittypets, he has no scars to tell of battles past. As a loner, he can easily avoid Clan conflicts, and if a rogue or fox or another threat may threaten him, he has no reason to hold back from moving on.


    Personality: Night is quiet and reserved, and he tends to keep to himself. He is wary of all other cats, and for he was never trained to fight, he’d rather flee than fight any day. He is strong, and once harbored a brave spirit. Life as a loner, nonetheless, has taught him to be wary, and without a mentor to train him to fight, his bravery didn’t last long. He certainly didn’t want to have to learn the hard way. He is untrusting and would rather not meet up with other cats. He easily takes the blame for mistakes, whether it was his mistake or the mistake of another. In fact, he still lives in the shame of his adventures as a kit.


    History: Nightkit was born into RiverClan. He has a sister, Stormkit. She is a black smoke tabby with white covering much of her fur. She was a small kit; smaller, even, than Nightkit. Nightkit’s mother was Creeksplash, a black she-cat with silver spots and silver tabby markings on her face, legs, and tail. She had his eyes. His father was Callingriver, a black tom with green eyes. Creeksplash had always favored Nightkit, because Stormkit was impulsive, impatient, and adventurous. Creeksplash couldn’t look at her without scorn in her eyes or speak to her without a slight snarl to her mew. She tried to convince Nightkit not to trust Stormkit, but she was his sister, and no matter what Creeksplash said, he loved her. Nightkit was brave, but he knew Stormkit’s adventures that involved sneaking out of camp were wrong, so he never accompanied her. Yet, at the same time, Stormkit always told him of her adventures, and out of loyalty to her, he never told Creeksplash. One day, Nightkit was listening to the elders tell a story when he overheard some warriors talking about a dog loose in RiverClan territory. He told Stormkit, and when she suggested they go fight it off, even he couldn’t say no. They tracked the dog to the river, and found its den. They peaked in, and saw the beast. It was huge! The dog turned its head and snapped its jaws. Nightkit watched in fear as Stormkit foolishly leaped at it, claws unsheathed. Despite the stupidity of her attack, Nightkit had to admit that she’d been pretty brave. “Run, Nightkit!” She cried as the dog easily shook her off. Nightkit knew that if he fought the dog, he might be able to save Stormkit, but fear took over and he fled. He wasn’t sure if the dog was taking chase, but he ran. He ran all the way to the gorge, but he knew that the Clan wouldn’t be safe if he led the dog to the camp. He’d lead it into the gorge. And so that was that: Nightkit leapt, and stumbled as he landed on the other side. He continued to run, and he ran until he reached the land beyond WindClan, the land that belonged to no Clan. He ran well into the night, and eventually collapsed from exhaustion. When he awoke, he knew he couldn’t go back home. Sure, he’d been Creeksplash’s favorite, yet her standards were high. She was obsessed in making Nightkit and Stormkit into perfect warriors, and he’d left Stormkit to be devoured by the dogs. If he was a true warrior, he thought, he would have risked his own life to save hers. No, he could never go back. He’d only be kicked out or exiled as murderers were, if he was lucky. And if he was unlucky… he likely wouldn’t make it out alive. He couldn’t go to any Clan, he realized with a pang of loneliness. They’d recognize the RiverClan scent on him, or RiverClan would recognize him on patrol or in a battle or at a gathering. He’d be a loner. “My name’s not Nightkit anymore,” he whispered to himself. “I belong to no Clan, I am not a Clan cat, not now, not ever. StarClan probably doesn’t recognize me under that name anymore either. From this day on, I shall be known as Night.” Many days, Night went hungry. He had no mentor to teach him to hunt or to fight. When he was desperate, he’d fish for minnows in a stream. Fishing for minnows was one of his favorite pastimes as a kit. They were hardly a mouthful, but better than nothing. When he was really desperate, he’d sneak into Twolegplace. There he could sift through a Twoleg’s trash, or help himself to kittypet slop. He always avoided contact with other cats, for if it should come to a battle, he knew he wouldn’t have a chance at winning. He’d rather flee than fight anytime. He still blames himself for what happened to Stormkit, and if he should ever come face-to-face with an ex-clanmate…. Well, he doesn’t even know what he’d do.

  • RIVERCLAN IS FLOODING?! || OPEN

    Creekflower yowled, "ANY KITS IN THE NURSERY? SAVE THE KITS! THE KITS!" Fear rolled off her like a wave, and although she cried for the safety of those in the nursery, StarClan knows she wasn't brave enough to go in there herself. Creekflower turned to her daughter and yowled, sneering, "Larkstorm! You're younger and stronger than me, save the kits!" She smirked as she shoved her daughter into the waves before she could protest, and savored the sound of her panicked yowl as her black smoke head went under. Creekflower let herself fall in line behind Photoflash. Upon reaching the gorge, she took a running leap, and to her relief, she landed safely on the other side. Her brother, Troutheart, had died on those rocks after visiting his lover, Goldensong, in WindClan. Creeksplash knew Goldensong well, maybe even considered her a friend, and as the sister of her dead mate, she knew she'd welcome her.


    Larkstorm yowled in sheer fear as she inhaled a bucketful of water. She had always been small, yet while she was strong enough to swim through the river, she was as weak as a kit in a full-blown flood. Her head went under, and the panicked fear-scent rolling off of her was overpowering. Her head still didn’t surface as her paws churned desperately through the floods, and she felt the strength ebb from her body.

  • Wading through responsability [Open - For those left behind in the flood]

    Creekflower yowled, "ANY KITS IN THE NURSERY? SAVE THE KITS! THE KITS!" Fear rolled off her like a wave, and although she cried for the safety of those in the nursery, StarClan knows she wasn't brave enough to go in there herself. Creekflower turned to her daughter and yowled, sneering, "Larkstorm! You're younger and stronger than me, save the kits!" She smirked as she shoved her daughter into the waves before she could protest, and savored the sound of her panicked yowl as her black smoke head went under. Creekflower let herself fall in line behind Photoflash.


    Larkstorm yowled in sheer fear as she inhaled a bucketful of water. She had always been small, yet while she was strong enough to swim through the river, she was as weak as a kit in a full-blown flood. Her head went under, and the panicked fear-scent rolling off of her was overpowering. Her head still didn’t surface as her paws churned desperately through the floods, and she felt the strength ebb from her body.