Lampy's Gremlins

Clan: Loner

Rank: Tier 3- Ex-Leader and Founder of the Forgotten Order.

Age: Seven Years

Birthday: October Fourth

Gender: Male

Breed: Smokey Turkish Angora

Appearance:
      ∞ Fur: A mottled swirl of ashy browns and pale cream. His chest and throat are both creamy in color, as is the
         bottom/tip of his plumed tail.
      ∞ Eyes: A hypnotizing churning of violet that seems to hold true depth behind them.
      ∞ Skin: Washed-out brown/grey
      ∞ Physique: Lithe but powerful.
      ∞ Other: He has many scars, most upon his face, the most notable is his shredded right ear, a long scar down his
         side, and a recent moon scar under his left eye.

Personality:

Tarot is a very complex cat, he seems to wear many masks and take on many personalities with masterful acting. He can be charming and comforting to some, only to be ruthless and cruel to others. His true personality is monstrous, hidden below many layers, steeped in sin, one could say, but rarely does anyone bear witness to this. From all of this, one can conclude that he has absolutely no morals, and he knows that perfectly well, even telling Dawnhawk/Morningstar multiple times that he is the wrong cat to come to asking about 'evil' or 'good'.

A scholarly cat, he's forever on a quest for knowledge, his intellect and experiences coming through clearly in his words that can often impart wisdom on others if he so wishes. He has a thirst for new experiences and views life as one might view a play, the characters on the stage are all merely actors he takes enjoyment in watching. His empathy is lacking, greatly, but he can pretend to care. Largely, he views other cats as no better than prey, the same level as mice and fish. This view can be broken through if one cat catches his interest, and he may begin to see them as more. Due to all this and having to live the tumultuous life of a loner on the streets, Tarot is a very adaptable cat, often shifting with any change given time, this, in part, is assisted by the fact that he's rather confident in his identity.

Tarot does not believe in deities, seeing nature as the be-all and end-all of everything around him. A fundamental realist in character, the loner holds no optimism for life, knowing it all must come to an end and believing that all bend to the whims of the world in its entirety. Any who break past that he views as abominations that need to be eradicated. Due to this, upon learning of Starclan, he grew burning hate for them, seeing them as cretins who've broken the laws of nature. He does everything he can to stand against them, which ended up with him being more aligned to the darker side of clans.

'What about the Dark Forest, wouldn't they be abominations to him as well,' one may ask? Tarot views that particular group of cats as living retribution against Starclan, victims of their frivolities that are merely striking out against their oppressors. He sees them as 'Karma' eternally coming back to punish Starclan for their arrogance cycle after cycle by tormenting them and the clans they watch over.


Relatives:  
      ∞ Father: Unknown/Deceased
      ∞ Mother: Nameless/Deceased
      ∞ Siblings: All are dead except perhaps one, who'd likely be living the life as a kittypet.

Habits: Raising a brow when dubious or inquisitive, holding himself aloofly with a spectacular posture.

Speech: Tarot, in fact, normally speaks in Shakespearian, learning that way of speaking from his grandmother while he was trapped in the hoarding house. He learnt rather quickly, though, that a lot of cats couldn't understand him when he spoke that way, so eventually, he learned to also speak 'normally'. He still favours Shakespearian though. (No he doesn't know that it's called Shakespearian.)

Goals: Gain all the knowledge he can in life, experience as much as he can in life.

Relationships: Tarot used to be close to his Grandmother and a loner named 'Klaus' both died though. Afterwards, Tarot had no one, and didn't particularly care that he had no one. Eventually, though, he met Cloverheart, traded stories with her, told her extravagant tales of his time in the twolegplace. He holds her slightly above most cats. Soon after that he met Dawnhawk, they traded poems and spoke. The rogue revealed that he didn't particularly feel connected to any of his many names, and upon hearing that, Tarot decided to gift him the name 'Klaus', so it could serve him until he found his true name. After that, the two began travelling together, and eventually grew to be friends after sharing backstories, Tarot imparting wisdom upon the conflicted rogue, and pushing him, in turn, further down the path of darkness. (Let's be honest though, even without tarot Klaus would've gone further down that path). Upon becoming Morningstar, Tarot still insisted to stay by his side, fascinated by the change in his friend and eager to see history made.

So, the only two cats he has a relationship with currently are Cloverheart and Morningstar.

Fears: Due to his adaptability and broad view of the world, he doesn't fear very much. One thing that can destabilize him, though, is being faced with the unknown, but this will often only make him all the more determined to make the unknown known.

Likes: The flavour of cats (yes, he is a cannibal), watching history be made, learning new things, being able to witness a cat change as their life marches on, imparting knowledge as he sees fit, manipulating others, testing the limits of his acting capabilities, striking any blows to Starclan that he can, experiencing life in its entirety, ambition, telling stories, observing the course of time, matching wits with someone, the stars of the twolegplace, watching Morningstar go on a power trip.

Dislikes: Rudeness, nativity, ignorance, Starclan, clan leaders, kits, close-minded thinking, mindless brutes, settling down, staying in one place, unknowns, foolishness, being looked down on, the laws of nature being broken, arrogance

Popularity: He's not as infamous as Morningstar, but his reputation is likely slowly going to grow and may end up being terribly skewed between famous and infamous, given his acting skills and lacking morality.

Admirations: None

Strengths: Agility, Speed, Stealth, Strategy, Cunning, Acting

Weaknesses: Brute Strength, Durability, Arrogance

Past: Tarot came from the city, or 'twolegplace' as clan cats know it as. His origins are rooted in a rather sad situation, a hoarding situation, to be exact. In a way, he was a kittypet, but he was hardly domestic, just like the other hundred+ cats that 'lived' alongside him. A house filled with the worst conditions a cat could ask for, mountains of twoleg trash and knickknacks always surrounded him, and the twoleg themselves was neigh-immobile, burdened under their own weight. It was a negative position for both the twoleg and the felines they kept as some sort of addiction.

When that twoleg perished, the cats were stuck inside their nest, unable to escape. For four moons none of the other twolegs outside the nest saw anything amiss, for the one that kept them rarely went outside. The cats inside were unable to remain stable for much longer, with only each other and a depleting amount of twoleg crowfood, they turned against each other in crazed states of hunger. Most only ate other cats who fell to sickness or starvation, but some reused to wait that long, especially with the competition they had with the others.

The situation degraded, and four moons later, the twolegs outside got wind of the possible situation. In a flurry of action none of the surviving cats could really comprehend, they were all grabbed by the twolegs and stuck into confined, portable cages. Only Tarot escaped, his own cage having had a faulty latch that, with enough, ramming, snapped loose and let him escape.

He swiftly outran the twolegs.

For another moon, he learned about the outside world through experience, and slowly gained more weight as a few kind-hearted street cats taught him the ropes of survival and hunting. Tarot made a full physical recovery and gained only slightly less-than-average weight. Despite that, the mental impacts of his experience stuck with him. He saw other cats as possible food unless they proved to him otherwise. The actions he was forced to take in that cursed twoleg nest kept him hooked to his expanded tastes. Unlike those who went through the same situation, he was not conditioned to see other felines as friends and not food.

Once that moon passed, he lived independently, but after overhearing some street cats conversing about a society of cats living in the forest, he grew curious. After asking for directions he made his way to the edge of the twolegplace and stepped over its boundary into the wilderness.

Soon upon arriving, he met Cloverpaw, now known as Cloverheart, there he began to foster a positive relationship with the clan cat to get some inside information on the workings of the forest. He shared stories with her as moons passed, and she shared information with him. Suddenly and abruptly, she stopped going to their meeting place, a bit disappointed, Tarot assumed her dead as more moons passed.

During that time, he met a particularly infamous rogue, 'Dawnhawk', whom he gifted the name of an old loner friend, 'Klaus'. The two began to travel together, the rogue teaching him how to fight as they largely stayed in each other's company. on one particular day, the rogue bore his heart to him, and Tarot accepted it. They traded backstories, and Tarot gave him what wisdom he could to assist in the conflict the tom was facing. From then on, they became friends.

Soon after this, he met Coverheart once more, but knew something was wrong, she had forgotten a good many chunks of their visits together. He tried to regrow the relationship he had with her with some success, but after that meeting, they didn't see each other again, as Tarot got caught up in the making of the Forgotten Order and leading it.

Then, one evening after being missing for a while, Klause returned to him bearing a new name after death, 'Morningstar'. He was rapidly becoming a monster and Tarot is quite fine with having some proper company with a fellow fiend. With him leading and dealing with the Dark Forest, his view on clan cats expanded further, and he soaked in the knowledge happily. During this massive invasion, he wasn't seen too often, living up to his title as the shadow of the cat. When starclan descended upon the forest to assist the clans, he was caught up in the flurry, left fleeing into the shadows as he tried to search for his friend with a desperation that was alien to him. Soon he did find him in the chaos, but it was too late, he only made it in time to see the tom's dying moments, where a quiet promise was made. After spitting some hateful words to his killer, and with a new loathing for the cats apparently dominating silverpelt, he retreated returning to his travels for nearly eight seasons. During this time, he soaked in new knowledge, especially after meeting a cat that dwelt in an odd twoleg nest that often held masses of twolegs. This tuxedo cat was old, but the wealth of knowledge he had immediately drew Tarot in.

They spook often, and deeply, Tarot sharing his experiences and seeking the older feline's wisdom, who revealed his name to be 'Cross'. This is where Tarot spent five out of the eight seasons, before beginning his journey once more after he learnt all he could. There was an idea hatching in his mind, but he put it aside to meditate on all he had learnt and experienced. Eventually, he began the journey back, with the rising moon as his guide back in the direction of the forest, the morning star always there to mark the beginning of dawn.

___

Art





By Chylk:





Clan: Loner

Rank: Tier 1

Age: 3 Years

Gender: Male

Breed: American Longhair

Appearance:

Plague is a bulky American shorthair, with vibrant yellow-green eyes. He has what seems to be tuxedo cat markings, his black fur having a dull blue sheen to it while the white patches on his face, paws stomach, tail-tip, and around his hind quarters all seem to have become a tad stained with a faint yellow from the grime that often dwells in large twolegplaces. He struggles to groom his fur thoroughly due to how long it is, and as a result, it has become rather matted. Unfortunate for him because now it itches almost constantly. He tries his best to stay clean regardless of these challenges.

He has many scars to tell of his ability to survive scratches across the bridge of his nose and down his front lip are the most prominent on his face, while bite scars and similar scratches riddle his leg and the base of his tail. The most striking scar he has is along his torso, where it almost seems to branch like a tree. Much of it seems to be hidden by his fur, but the story he has for that one is quite shocking.


Personality:

Plague is a jovial tom, who's surprisingly friendly despite the harsh environment he grew up in. He loves to tell stories of his travels, and will eagerly, and sometimes promptly, tell them to anyone who's willing to listen. He's rather protective of kits given how often he has seen them perish on the streets. Of course, he's also a tad oblivious, and may inadvertently terrify kits with his cheerful tellings or rather scary events he has lived through in the past. This may also show when he suggests radical ideas that would seem perfectly reasonable in the streets of a twolegplace, but, perhaps not in the forest.

He's incredibly hard to get angry. He'll tell you that back when he was younger though, the exact opposite was the case, and he got into all sorts of fights he's surprised he survived because of how hot-headed he was when he was younger. His personality from back then can show up in a wave if someone pushes him over the edge, an impressive feat that would likely earn the one that provoked him a few nasty scars. In fights, he's cold and ruthless, each blow calculated while he weighs the risk of fighting or running. More often than not though, he will end up running if he gets too many injuries, the instant that those will get infected and quite possibly kill him ingrained in his mind.

Regardless of all this, he's a lonely tom, searching for company and someone to share his stories with. Perhaps this is what drew him to the clans despite how little he understands of them. He's trying his best though, and below all that matted fur is a heart of gold.

Relatives:  
     ∞ Father: Deceased
     ∞ Mother: Deceased
     ∞ Siblings: Deceased

Habits: Scratching at his fur when he's sitting idly, rambling if anyone asks him about his past, using street cat speak when he's the only one who understands it.

Speech:He has a gruff, but warm voice, often almost seeming sleepy if anything.

Goals: Making friends and found family, protecting those that fall into that category.

Relationships: His only relationships (So Far) have been with his two friends, Crow Food and Dog Brath (AKA Crow and Dog). When Crow died though, he and Dog ended up going their separate ways, his friend unable to cope now that he was aware of just how quickly a friend's life can be taken from him. Now Plague is alone.

Fears: Metal fences, rats, dogs

Likes: Telling stories, hunting, sunbathing and socializing.

Dislikes: His fur, dogs, leafbare, being waterlogged, crossing thunderpaths, smoke, puddles.

Mentor/Admirations: None, as of now.

Strengths: Hardiness and Luck

Weaknesses: Speed and Agility

Past:

Plague was born and raised on the streets of a large twolegplace, where he picked up a lot of lingo from the cats that lived there that were probably unfamiliar to clan cats. During that time he faced many trials and tribulations and, initially, faced them all in a rush with a hot head and claws itching for a fight. Eventually, he lived and learned though, and has come out the other side cool-headed, practical, and taking life at a much laxer, and safer pace. Oftentimes he mentions how surprised he is that he's still alive even after facing white cough and surviving, not to mention just how many close calls he got into. His scars speak for themselves with just how vicious what scuffles and fights he got into were.  As a result of this, he's far more inclined to run than to fight to the last leg, fearing risking too many injuries and finally being felled by infection.

Oftentimes he travelled with two other cats, Crow and Dog Breath. Both their names usually were earned by events they faced together that were rather humorous when they looked back on them. Crow was mobbed by crows over a piece of twoleg food he had tried to swipe from them. Dog Breath got jumped by a dog, making all three of them startle and prepare for a fight, only for the dog to proceed to slobber all over their friend's face and bark excitedly in his ear, hence, 'Dog Breath'.

The duo always joked about Plague never seemingly being able to die, saying he could 'survive anything'. That fact was proven when he earned his name. While in an alleyway scavenging for food, a group of rats got aggressive and started attacking the poor tom, he fought them off yowling under their rather painful bites, and ended up killing one when he slapped it into the nearby wall, snapping its neck, only then did the rest retreat. The rats in the twolegplace were notorious for having infection-ridden bites, and often had ended many unfortunate cat's lives. Plague... was not one of them. In fact, thanks to his thick, matted fur, none of the bites were deep. After he didn't drop dead for two weeks, his friends were laughing their tails off, and that was the day he earned the name 'Plague Rat'.

Unfortunately, one of the trio passed away, the cold of leaf-bare taking Crow away with her frosty touch. The last duo mourned his loss, burying the body of their friend, no, their brother, under the frozen soil. After that things became quieter between them, more distant. Eventually, Dog turned to Plague, telling him he wanted to go solo now, scared of watching another beloved companion die in front of him. Plague pleaded but his pleas when unheared. It was there Dog told him of rumours of cats living in large groups in a forest many days travel away, and with a smile suggested he go there and find a family he could actually settle down with.

After parting ways, the lonely tom thought on the suggestion, before finally setting off don't he journey, leaving the twolegplace he grew up and learned in behind in search of a new chapter in his life.

___





Clan: Riverclan

Rank: Tier 1 Warrior

Age: 10 Moons

Birthday: May Twelfth

Gender: Male

Breed: Domestic Longhair

Appearance:
      ∞ Fur: Grey with a hint of brown, with ivory white paws, ears, tail tip, and blaze. His coat is long, and poofy, with details
          of darker greyish brown on his face, legs, and tail.
      ∞ Eyes: Sivery Grey
      ∞ Skin: Speckled Grey
      ∞ Physique: Broad, but not fat, and dense-boned.
      ∞ Other: His ears ar rounded and curled, giving him a softer appearance on top of his already-softness.

Personality:

As a kit, Grey changed after the loss of both his parents and remaining siblings, the loss traumatizing him and making him mature far quicker than any kit should. Despite all this, as time passed his intelligence and understanding of the world around him grew. His time as an apprentice was filled with uncertainty and turmoil in regards to his developing personality, but soon enough, once he finally became a warrior, his personality solidified.

Greynose is an intelligent, cat, favouring logic above all. He has a strategic mind that could be put to good use if he wasn't so lazy in nature. He's fiercely loyal, believing he should serve the clan since his family no longer could. Due to this, he basically lives in place of his siblings, who should've never died so young with so many aspirations. When it comes to following orders, he will, he has a bit of a soldier's heart, not one to disobey orders even if they are amoral in nature (Though that doesn't mean he'd enjoy such a thing).

Despite this though, he's a kind soul, often trying to take care of those both younger and older than him. He has a rather fatherly character when it isn't all business, he treats kits as if they were his own, and can be fiercely protective of them if it comes down to it.

He also despises depressing moods (he went through enough of those as a kit), and, as a result, always tries to lighten things with humour, whether sardonic or otherwise. Overall, he's a very rounded tom (in personality and character).

Relatives:  
      ∞ Father: Claytail [Deceased]
      ∞ Mother: Softcurrent [Deceased]
      ∞ Siblings: Brother- Fawnkit [Deceased], Sister- Pollenkit [Deceased]

Habits: Slacking off when he's off-duity, coming up with wild inventions and ideas to keep his mind occupied when he's bored, sleeping in very odd places.

Speech: His voice is on the softer side for the most part, but becomes rather clipped and professional when he's being ordered.

Goals: Serve the clan as best he can, all while still being the laziest warrior possible.

Relationships: He was close with his family, resulting in him being destroyed when they were all taken from him. Afterwards, he was close with the elders, in particular, Carpslash, them all being the only social interaction he had as a kit. When Carpsplash died, he felt rather lost but slowly recovered. His mentor, Dewlight, was the next cat he grew close to, and he became quite the worrywart when she was ill and not recovering from her injuries. When she died, he felt rather empty for a while, and the fact that everyone he cared about was dying around him began to weigh on his mind, the weight sometimes making him forget she even died, making it all the worse whenever he remembered. Currently, he's still recovering from that, hiding it with apathy, but still able to find some enjoyment despite it all.

Fears: Bodies of water, whenever he sees them, his mind just pictures the dead faces of all that he's lost hiding just below the surface, waiting to drag him down too. Due to this, he was delayed in becoming a warrior, now, he can manage swimming across briefly and fishing (only if absolutely necessary), but anything more than that can send him into a fit of hysterics.

Likes: Sleeping, not having to put effort into things, spending time with elders and kits, vibes, sleeping in odd places, hunting for herbs, birdwatching, mice, bugs, spending time with those he case about.

Dislikes: Not sleeping, putting effort into things, being ordered to do things he dislikes (he'll still listen anyway), snow, dogs, ignorance, foolishness, illogicalness, the clan being high-strung, high-strung-ness in general, when things don't make sense, when his mind won't shut up, nightmares, water.

Academics: Smort boi

Popularity: He's starting to try and bond more with his clanmates, but he's largely just a face in the crowd to most of them still.

Mentor/Admirations: Dewlight [Deceased]

Strengths: Strategy, Durability, Empathy, Strength

Weaknesses: Agility, Bodies of waters (The river in particular), Snow, Effort

Past:Grey’s parents were named Claytail, the father, and Softcurrent, the mother. They were both decent warriors, who had participated in a few scuffles before. Not too notable, they often slipped into the background of the clan, and mostly stuck together as friends and mates, not interacting with many others in the clan. During birth, Softcurrent had a few complications, and two of her five kits died at birth. Grey, Pollen(F), and Fawn(m) were the last three.

After she recovered Softcurrent cared for them until they were able to eat solid food, after that she and Clay tried to never both be busy at a time
so one could look after the kits.

The three kits were energetic, and close to each other, playing and pretending they were mighty warriors defending the clan, as kits often do. Fawn though soon grew interested in being a medicine cat,
commenting often about how cool they were and how they got to talk to the magical ghosts of the clans’ ancestors. Pollen and Grey often teased him about it, but never maliciously, and they always all ended up falling into fits of laughter whenever it happened.

Then, both their parents got called out to help with a border patrol, some sort of scuffle with outsiders.
They never returned; both having fallen into the gorge during the fight, their mother had done so in an attempt to save their father. After that the kits were rather listless, it took a while for them to get back to some semblance of normal. They were more subdued, but Fawn became even more determined to become a medicine cat, so no one else would have to deal with what they did.

His dream never came true, Pollen, always the most daring, told Grey and Fawn to follow her. It was storming out, and everyone in the nursery was asleep. Apparently, Pollen had been secretly creating a path through the back of the nursery’s wall, leading to the nearby river.

Foolishly, the two brothers listened. Upon growing near the roaring river and pouring rain, Pollen told them to look up. They did, the sight of the storm above taking the daring kits’ breath away in awe. For a while they just sat together, marvelling at the sight. Grey, finally growing nervous, told them they should head back, beginning to walk back toward camp, the other two wanted to stay a bit longer though.

At that moment a rogue wave crashed onto shore from a fallen tree limb. It struck the two that remained close to the riverbank, dragging them into its watery depths, abruptly cutting off their cries of terror. Grey watched, paralyzed, and tried to race after them along the river. It couldn’t be helped though, the two were washed away further and further from sight.

A queen at the time had woken with the sound of the breaking branch. Upon not finding the siblings
there, she searched for them, but only found Grey, sitting by the riverbank in shock, the other two nowhere in
sight.

He was brought back, dried, and only got a mild chill from the event, but for the next weeks he was
barely responsive.

After a moon, he became aware again, but any energy he used to have was gone. He lazed around listlessly, trying to distract himself from his now completely absent family, slowly he recovered, but he’d never be the same kit as before. He grew to become an apprentice alone, his sister not at his side, and unable to see his brother become the medicine cat he wished to be. It was all made worse when Carpsplash died before he could see him become an apprentice.

Throughout all his apprenticeship the mase subdued, and often and episodes of depression. He struggled to become a warrior due to his fear of the river, the staple strength of Riverclanners. He had to watch as his mentor lost the life that used to be in her, and eventually, she died before being able to see him become a warrior.

Now alone, and with his only semi-relationship in the clan being with the medicine cat, he tries to do them all proud, living for them, serving the clan at all costs (even if he might not like some of them). He swears, though, to never work himself to death, like he sees many of his clanmates seeming to do. So, when he can, he returns to his lazy roots and slacks about. Still, he intends to be the best warrior he can, and nothing more, he's not an ambitious cat.

___

Art










Clan: Windclan

Rank: Apprentice

Age: 10 moons

Birthday: May Fifteenth

Gender: Male

Breed: American Shorthair

Appearance:
      ∞ Fur: He's a melanistic tortoishel, black with many shades of orange, his left paws, throat, are white, along with
         the blaze on his nose. His most striking patterns though, are his split face, one side being black, the other being
         orange. Alongside this, the various orange patterns on his coat look like tongues of fire dancing across inky darkness,
         becoming more condensed around the later half of his tail.
      ∞ Eyes: He has Heterochromia eyes, the one on the black half of his face being a reddish, firey orange, with the
         other one is a cool blue-green.
      ∞ Skin: Dappled grey/black
      ∞ Physique: Lithe, but powerful, with a long tail.
      ∞ Other: ---

Personality:

Sootpaw is a stoic cat, with a blunt, tactless attitude, which often ended up with him saying cruel things to clannmates. Despite this he always tried to show respect to higher ranks... and while silently in a constant state of bubbling violence and anger. His mentor assisted in teaching him manners, and he tried to live up to it all, after all, she was the only cat he truly respected.

He despises his parents, making him very intent on being better than they ever were. he had a lot of ambition, that was for sure.

Relatives:  
      ∞ Father: Fawnstep
      ∞ Mother: Tawnyflare
      ∞ Siblings: Sister- Hentooth, Brother- Timbersun [Deceased?](There were others, but a lot of them ended up
         being deceased/inactive, so I don't remember their names)

Habits: Brooding

Speech: Clipped, Cold, Detached, but if he's pushed to it it'll become dripping with rage and venom.

Goals: Become the clan leader

Relationships: He was only close to his mentor, and that was purely business-oriented for him. His siblings, he never got along with, and he hated every one of his clanmates default. He never tried to form any relationships beyond those needed for his duties.

Fears: Death

Likes: Training, being left alone to think, not being pestered, being able to vent his rage in fights.

Dislikes:  Many things, including; being forced to talk more than needed, socializing, dealing with his siblings, being talked down to, emotions.

Academics: Average Intelligence

Popularity: Not the best

Mentor/Admirations: Swiftspirit

Strengths: Speed, Agility, Strength

Weaknesses: Empathizing, Socializing, Durability

Past: Soot probably pulled the short straw in the parent lottery. Fawnstep and Tawnyflare, one already a proven crap parent, the other also not being the best parent, not to mention they were both chill with murder. In light of all of this, it's no wonder why Soot was slowly becoming a fox-heart, just like dear old dad. Left neglected with his annoying kin, the tom slowly degraded into a worse moral character. He grew to despise both their parents, one being stupid enough to die and have his corpse eaten, the other abandoning them all in windclan. His rage, though, was left confined inside him as he secluded himself from all of the clan, any attempts to reach him emotionally being shot down by the degrading tom. The venom of this rage poisoned his mind, making him cruel and unempathetic.

He despised interacting with clanmates beyond the bare minimum, he despised his kin, he despised life. The only one that got close to getting him out of his shell and soothing his anger was his mentor Swiftspirit.

Sadly, the tom never got the chance to change. For, abruptly, he had been brutally murdered during a gathering, when the Dark Forest had struck out against the land of the living, lead by Morningstar, and the stars had abandoned the forest to their rule.

He perished Under the Forgotten Order member, Ares', claws.

___

Art





______________________________________________