KitKat12
trying to find a job writing lore for petsites. its difficult.
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Post by KitKat12 on Jul 19, 2018 11:37:10 GMT -5
The Coming Storm
In a world where the human population is dwindling, and the wild cat population is thriving, those rumored to have powers are hunted. There are cats out there, called bounty hunters, that hunt them. For it is rumored that if you carry a piece of them on you; a paw, an ear, some fur; their powers will transfer to you. It's a dangerous time to be alive, especially when there are rumors. Rumors that Rowan has tried so hard to keep from starting. And now the bounty hunters are on his tail, and he must find a way to keep his mate and kits safe from his curse. While they run, Rowan has to wonder, how did anyone know about his insignificant powers? Deep in his bones, he knows the answer, and a storm is brewing, a storm they must all prepare for.
Characters
Rowan: Dark brown tabby tom with white paws. Long legs, slightly larger ears than average, and amber eyes.
Fern: Light ginger tabby she-cat with white paws, underbelly (up her chest and throat), tail tip, and blue eyes.
Marigold: Ginger and white she-cat with blue eyes
Aspen: Dark brown tortoiseshell she-cat with amber eyes.
Fox: Ginger tom with amber eyes
Fawn: Light brown tortoiseshell she-cat with amber eyes
Nectar: Ginger and white she-cat with large green eyes. Small in size, but intelligent and strong.
Trickle: Dark brown tabby tom with dark amber eyes. Lithe, with long legs and a long tail.
Storm: Small, long-furred, black she-cat with intense amber eyes. Quiet and observant.
Thistle: Large, grey-furred tom with fur that sticks out everywhere and amber eyes.
Frasier: Skinny, light brown tabby tom with scars crisscrossing his body. His face has a large clawmark on it and he's blind in his right eye. A former bounty hunter.
Dec: Large, muscled dark grey tom with darker tabby stripes and ice blue eyes. His full name is December.
(Will be added to as the story goes on)
Powers Berserk: Increased strength and speed, but senses are slightly decreased.
Location: Can find any cat given a detailed description and name. Advanced locators can see the cat in someone's mind (ex. Storm in Trickle's). However, they can only tell the climate/weather, if they are alone or not, and roughly how far away they are.
Mind Reading: Can read the minds of any cat. Advanced mind readers do not need to be in contact with the cat to read their minds. Rowan is a very weak mind reader and can only tell a little bit about the cat through touch.
Super Strength: A cat can gain increased strength for a limited amount of time. It has a cooldown of 3 days.
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KitKat12
trying to find a job writing lore for petsites. its difficult.
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Post by KitKat12 on Jul 19, 2018 13:50:59 GMT -5
Prologue "Please! Please, don't hurt me," the she-cat begged, her green eyes still brimming with grief from the deaths Trickle had caused.
Now, he looked down at her pathetic form. Her fur was matted and dirty, the white and orange almost impossible to see with the mud and blood covering it. Trickle's own fur was smooth and clean, and he lifted his lip at this excuse for a cat.
A light breeze ruffled his ear fur, and the moonlight glowed brightly onto the cats gathered. The shadow of a large human den rose up behind them. The air smelled like rain. Trickle could hear the soft rustle of leaves and fur behind him as his cats grew restless.
The dark brown tabby tom crouched down next to Nectar's ear. "Oh, my sweet, sweet, Nectar. I know this begging is an act. Why don't you come out and play?" he purred. He watched as her eyes widened, and then closed. He heard her trying to control her breathing, and he flicked his tail in satisfaction before stepping back.
Nectar opened her eyes, and what had once been a leaf green was now the color of the muck that grew on the bottom of a muddy river. Her ears twitched as if she was trying to hear something that had suddenly disappeared, or perhaps like a fly was irritating the sensitive skin. She shook her head and her ears stopped twitching. She suddenly fixed her dulled gaze on Trickle, or rather, it seemed, the shape of Trickle, and in a deep, guttural voice, said, "I don't 'play' with the likes of you; I kill them." Nectar turned and bounded away, crashing through bushes.
Trickle shrugged. "Let her go. I'll find her sooner or later anyway," he meowed, flashing a glance at a quiet black she-cat standing almost invisibly in the shadows. Her amber eyes met his and he jerked his head; an indication for her to follow him.
Once they were in the barn and Trickle had leaped up into the loft, he walked to the right and wiggled behind a pile of hay. There was a hole in the wall, and he squeezed through it onto a narrow ledge outside. He followed it to the back wall, where there was an overhanging tree. The branches scraped against the barn as the wind picked up. A raindrop landed on the brown tom's nose. He ducked underneath the leaves into a sheltered area where the ledge he had been walking on had widened. Trickle sat with his back to the wall and curled his tail around his paws, watching as the black she-cat, who was known as Storm, settled herself across from him. Her bushy black tail thumped impatiently on the wood, and her amber eyes glowed slightly.
"What do you need?" she rumbled, flicking rain off her ears.
"I need you to find a cat named Rowan for me."
Storm gave him a small nod before closing her eyes. The thumping of her tail grew louder, but stayed the same steady speed. It seemed like the air suddenly stilled as she felt Rowan's surroundings. Trickle gazed at her curiously, trying to judge what she was feeling.
Her amber eyes opened and pinned Trickle with their intensity. "It is raining quite heavily. He is not by himself. About 2 day's journey from here."
Trickle growled. He had hoped Rowan would be closer. "That will have to do," he decided out loud. He dipped his head to Storm. "Thank you. You may go."
She nodded again and left.
Trickle looked up at the nearly full moon through a gap in the branches. Rain blurred the perfect view. "I will find you," he vowed to himself.
And I will make you suffer. Rowan flicked rain off of his whiskers and turned to look at his mate, who was stretched out in the moss next to him. The den was dark, but the brown male could clearly see her stomach swollen with his kits and he feared they would come any day now. The log that served as their den was warm and protected them from the rain. Moss and bushes grew over it and helped keep it hidden from predators and other cats. The past few moons they had been comfortable, but now leaf-fall was going to be coming to an end, and Rowan couldn't help but wonder if he could keep his kits safe during the freezing moons to come.
A whimpering drew his attention back to Fern and concern gripped his chest as she tensed up. A spasm rippled through her body and she let out a low moan.
"Are the kits coming?" Rowan asked, his tall form hovering over the panting she-cat as he stood.
Fern nodded, and the ginger and white fur on her stomach rippled. Her claws raked at her mossy nest as she pushed. "Stick," she gritted out through clenched teeth.
Dashing out into the storm, he searched through the darkness next to their den. His whiskers brushed moss on the forest floor. After searching for what to him felt like moons, his nose finally bumped into a hard, damp object. Grasping it in his jaws, he quickly ducked into their den and placed it next to Fern's muzzle. She grabbed it and bit down hard. Another spasm gripped her before she suddenly relaxed.
Rowan looked down at the tiny kit mewling next to his mate. His eyes softened and he nudged the small tom to Fern's stomach right before she pushed out another kit, this time a she-cat.
Soon, four kits were suckling at Fern's belly. He crouched down next to his exhausted, but proud, mate and licked her ears. "Three she-cats and a tom. You did a good job." His heart was bursting with love for his kits and mate, and he gazed at them fondly. They were now quiet, content with their feeding. Fern's fur was damp with sweat and the air smelled of milk.
Rowan looked down at his kits and nudged the light brown and ginger tortoiseshell. "This will be Fawn, and this will be Fox." He indicated to the ginger tabby tom.
Fern purred and swept her tired eyes over the kits. "Aspen," she named the dark brown tortoiseshell, "and Marigold." Marigold lifted her ginger and white head and mewled, as if responding to Fern.
Rowan purred. "She looks just like you," he murmured to his mate. Fern nuzzled Rowan's chest as she drifted off to sleep.
/~/
"Rowan," Marigold whined. "I'm hungry!"
Leaf-fall had ended and leaf-bare had pounced upon the family like a hungry fox. Its jaws clamped around their survival and shook every once in a while just to keep things interesting. Now, it was snowing. The only good thing about it was that it covered their den and kept the warm air in. Unfortunately, every sensible piece of prey was staying warm as well. Rowan considered himself a good hunter, and with his long legs and speed, he could catch a few more pieces of prey than the average cat would. However, that didn't mean it was good prey. They were suffering as well, and whatever meat Rowan's family could get off of it was a mouthful at best. He tried to give most of the prey to Fern and his kits, but he was sensible enough to know that he needed to eat to have the energy to hunt.
Rowan nudged Fox away from the entrance of the den. "I'm going out to hunt in a moment," he told Marigold. The kits were old enough to eat meat now, and Rowan suspected he could teach them a few hunting moves. Although they were still young, their fur had grown thicker to keep them warm.
He shook his head. What was he thinking? They wouldn't be old enough to really hunt until about three or four moons at best. Just because they could eat meat didn't mean they could hunt. Rowan supposed he was just desperate. The faster the kits could hunt, the better off they were. He feared he was going to let his children down if he didn't teach them what a father was supposed to teach his kits before......well, before anything happened. Rowan told himself that it was an irrational fear; they had been safe here for so many moons, but he knew that could all be taken away in a mere matter of moments, like before.
The brown tabby shivered before saying goodbye to Fern and padding out of the den. Outside, it was cold, and the snow spotted his pelt with white. He shook, expelling the snow. After sniffing the air, he set off stalking carefully through the forest. His amber eyes examined every nook and cranny for prey, and when he finally saw a mouse, he caught it with ease. Despite being hungry, he could still hunt well.
A crunch made him spin around, perking his ears and widening his eyes. Turned out it was just a squirrel dropping from a tree. Rowan dropped into a crouch and stalked forward. Fortunately, it hadn't seen him yet. Unfortunately, once it did, it was fast and close to a tree. Rowan debated chasing it but banished the thought. It was far too dangerous, and despite his good balance he hadn't practice climbing in a while. So, he padded regretfully away from the tree.
The rest of his trip went normally. He froze his paws off, caught nothing more than a scrawny bird to go alongside his mouse, and got impossibly wet and cold after stepping in a dip in the ground and stumbling into the snow. However, when he was on his way back a stroke of luck hit him and he found a small mouse nest. Having forgotten about being cold with his amazing find, he headed back to the den.
A lump of snow landed on his head.
Rowan looked up, his good mood dissipating. He barely caught a glimpse of the branches above him before a large shape blocked it out and landed on his back. Sharp claws pricked his neck and he dropped his prey, rolling onto his back to crush and hopefully dislodge his attacker. Panic flared in his chest as he dropped into an attack crouch, having successfully gotten rid the burr-like creature on his back. He bushed out his fur and hissed at the tom in front of him. Fear threatened to spill into his amber eyes, but he hid it. After the close contact Rowan knew exactly who this cat was. He was a bounty hunter and had come to kill Rowan.
Not today, Rowan thought as he narrowly dodged the tom's lunge. He also knew his name, Thistle. Thistle was a large cat with many scars marring his shoulders, flank, and even his throat. His right ear was shredded and his grey fur stuck out everywhere.
"So what do you do? Super strength, mind reading, what?" Thistle snarled as the two toms circled.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Rowan lied, his heart rate increasing.
Apparently that was not what Thistle wanted to hear because he leaped at Rowan. Rowan had already felt the strength his opponent possessed and knew he would have to use his speed to win this battle. Rowan ducked and dashed forward, turning to drag a sharp claw down his stomach. Thistle hissed in pain and thumped on the ground clumsily. He quickly got up, baring his teeth at Rowan, before lunging again. Rowan was thankful that Thistle was slow, as it allowed him to jump to the side, effectively avoiding the tom's attack.
The cold season had taken a toll on Rowan, and he knew he couldn't keep avoiding Thistle forever. This fact was only emphasized when he stumbled and Thistle grabbed his shoulder. The brown male felt sharp teeth rip fur and flesh away from his body and he yowled. Blood flowed freely from the wound and Thistle lunged again, this time grabbing his throat. Rowan felt the tom squeezing and he struggled to breathe. Memories flashed through his mind of his kits and his mate. He felt the urge to screech his frustrations to the grey sky. It wasn't fair; he didn't get a chance to raise his kits, to experience their achievements, their joys, their lives.
In a sudden fit of rage, Rowan yanked his body away from Thistle, his anger and will to live lending him strength. He leaped at Thistle, landing a flurry of blows on his face. He was suddenly aware of nothing except for the pain he wanted to inflict on this cat for even daring to take him away from his family. His ears heard nothing, his eyes saw red. The scent of blood and fear filled the air. Blood soaked his paws and Thistle's pained screeches finally reached his ears.
Rowan suddenly came to his senses and stumbled back. Thistle was crouched on the ground, his face a mess of scratches. His right eye was almost unrecognizable underneath the blood, but his other eye glared at him. His amber gaze was filled with pain and rage. Without another word, he turned and stumbled away.
Rowan sighed and searched through the mess to find his dropped prey. After he retrieved it, he resumed his journey back to Fern and his kits, picking up the rest of his prey along the way.
He limped through the snow, his shoulder aching. Rowan knew next to nothing about herbs, and feared that his shoulder would get infected. He tried to be confident that everything would work out, but he knew that without the proper care, a wound of that severity wouldn't heal easily.
The den came into view and he ducked inside, wincing as his wounds smarted. He placed the prey down on the ground.
"Rowan!" Fern's worried voice matched her equally worried face as she hurried up to him. She examined him, noting where he had been injured before leading him to lie in his nest. His kits clustered around him, asking him various questions.
"What attacked you?"
"Are you alright?"
"Did you win?"
Marigold stayed quiet as she climbed into the nest and snuggled into his side. She seemed to forget her earlier hunger as she focused on comforting her father. A purr rumbled in Rowan's throat and he wrapped his tail around the kit. He looked up at Fern.
"I'm fine, just got a little beat up. Some crazy cat attacked me," he lied, shrugging his shoulders, which made his shoulder burn. He exhaled painfully through his teeth. "And there's some prey buried over at the lightning tree that I left. It's not like I can go out and get it since you have me confined to my nest," he chuckled wearily, suddenly tired.
Fern shot him a glare that said "we are talking about this later." Rowan guessed she knew he was lying. She shook her head. "I'll go out and get it, and I can find some herbs too for your shoulder." Dramatically, she turned and stomped out of the den.
As soon as she left, his kits clustered around him. "Tell us about the fight," Aspen demanded, her dark brown
tortoiseshell fur standing on end in excitement. Fox, who was standing next to her, nodded eagerly, his amber eyes wide.
Rowan sighed. He had really wanted to rest, but he supposed he could tell them. Besides, he wanted to spend as
much time as possible with them. He had come too close to dying today and too close to losing them. He leaned forward, his eyes acquiring an excited gleam as he looked Aspen and Fox over. Fawn had crawled in next to him and Marigold, but was watching him attentively, waiting for him to start.
"The snow was falling gently as I walked through the forest, on my way back to you. It was still, unusually so," Rowan told. As he continued, Aspen and Fox leaned forward, eating up his words. Their faces were bright with awe as he described the fighting. Once he had finished his story, Fox and Aspen replicated it, with Rowan giving them tips here and there. He warned them to keep their claws sheathed, and taught them how to dislodge an opponent clinging to their back.
"I thought I told you to rest," Fern scolded.
Rowan looked up from where he was crouched, Aspen on his back. He stood up straight, causing her to slide off with a surprised squeak.
"He was teaching us to fight!" Aspen chirped.
"He told us how he defeated the nasty cat!" Fox added with a bounce.
Fern sighed and glared at Rowan. Herbs were lying discarded at her paws. "Go lie down. I'll take a look at your shoulder in a moment."
Rowan ducked his head in shame at being caught and padded over to his nest. He nudged Marigold and Fawn out of it before settling down. Marigold immediately scampered over to a small mouse and started gnawing at it. The rest of her siblings followed and took their own prey. Fox and Aspen fought over sharing a mouse.
His mate crossed the den to him with the herbs. She sat down next to him and started cleaning his shoulder wound. Rowan winced and tensed in pain.
"It was a bounty hunter," Rowan murmured after a few moments of silence.
Fern gasped, looking up at him in fear. "Do we have to move?" she asked, patting down the poultice on his wound.
The brown tabby shook his head. "No, I think we should be fine until Green-leaf. Then the kits will be old enough to take care of themselves and we can all find a new place to live." He nuzzled Fern and she leaned into his touch, seeking comfort. "We'll be fine," he whispered.
I hope.
Chapter Two
Leaf-bare had come and gone and with it, Rowan's fears. His family had persevered through the cold season safely, and now New-leaf was beginning. Birds were chirping, and green was popping up in the previously dead forest. It would be serene, if not for the noise his children were making.
"Race you to that log!" Aspen challenged Fox as she bounded ahead of Rowan.
Without a word, Fox shot off, Aspen matching him paw-step for paw-step. Leaf litter blanketed the ground, and they kicked it up as they sprinted.
Beside Rowan, Fern sighed. Rowan bumped her with his shoulder, gaining her attention. "What's wrong?" he murmured, looking down at her gently.
Fern watched Aspen and Fox reach the log together. Aspen pounced on Fox and the two of them tussled on the ground. "It's not that I don't want them to have fun, but it's a long journey to the barn where you grew up and they need to preserve their energy. We still have the rest of the day to travel."
He licked her ears in comfort. "They'll be fine. But I'll put a stop to it if it makes you feel better." He padded over to where Fox and Aspen were still wrestling and shoved them apart. They fell backwards and looked up at him in confusion.
"You two need to be careful. We still have a long way to go and you need to preserve your energy," he told them sternly. They ducked their heads and mumbled an apology before turning and plodding back to Fawn and Marigold. Marigold snickered at them and Aspen cuffed her over the ears with a growl.
They set off once again, at a steady pace. By nightfall, they had made good time and Rowan estimated they would be at the farm by nightfall tomorrow.
"Alright, let's settle down for tonight," Rowan called over his shoulder at his lagging kits.
"Finally!" Marigold flopped down on the ground, her eyes already closed.
"You can't sleep out here," Rowan purred in amusement. "We need to find some shelter."
Grumbling, Marigold rolled to her paws and started sniffing around, poking her nose in bushes and stomping dramatically. Rowan rolled his eyes and he and Fern exchanged a glance. Yup, we're going to have our paws full with her. It's not that she hadn't been a pawful as a kit, but Marigold was getting more loud and dramatic. Rowan couldn't help but wonder if it was his fault. He had been neglecting giving her his attention lately.
"Come check this out!"
Aspen's voice shook Rowan out of his thoughts and he turned to see what she was talking about.
The young tortoiseshell had found a hollow in the roots of a tree. Rowan examined it. Some damp leaves needed to be cleared out and it could be a little bigger, but that could be solved with a little digging. While his mate and kits went to get some moss, he made their temporary den a little bigger.
They returned with the driest moss they could find, and nestled it underneath the roots of the tree. The family curled up together, nice and warm and safe.
"Rowan," Marigold meowed with a yawn as she nestled closer. "Why are we going to this barn?"
Rowan smiled softly at his daughter. "Well," he began. "the barn is where I grew up." A shadow crossed his face before he banished it with a forced purr. "But I haven't been there in a while. Now, hush. The sooner you get to sleep, the sooner you can meet my brother."
The brown tom had already told his kits that his parents had died, and his brother was the only living relative. He hadn't told them that he had been part of the reason why his parents were dead, and that his brother, Timber, hated him for it. Since Rowan had left, he hadn't been back. He only hoped that Timber had simmered down some from that day and would have settled down in peace.
With a sigh, Rowan placed his head on his paws and closed his eyes. The soft snores and breathing of his family lulled him to sleep as he thought of the reunion to come.
/~/ The sun hung brightly in the sky as Rowan stood at the top of a hill. Below, he could see the large red barn and, surprisingly, the small shapes of dozens of cats. Worry creased his face as he wondered whether Timber even still lived there. The brown tom shook his head and turned to address his family.
"What do you think you're doing here?" a deep growl emanated out of the forest before Rowan could speak.
The voice belonged to a large, dark grey tabby tom. Two other cats spread out to either side of him, both looking menacing. Rowan noticed muscles rippling under their pelts, and they all seemed to have multiple scars.
"Um, yeah, I don't think I have the right place," Rowan stammered, flattening his ears. He hated to show weakness in front of his family like this, but he knew that to do anything else would be a death wish. "We'll be going now," he assured them. "I'm sorry for trespassing on what is obviously your territory." Rowan started backing away.
The tom growled again. "You won't be going anywhere." He flicked his tail and his companions flanked them. Two more cats materialized out of the trees to stand behind the family. "Trickle will decide what to do with you."
Turning and leading them down the hill, they were forced to follow. The other cats poked and nipped at anyone who was lagging, and kept them at a steady pace. As they approached the barn, cats stopped to stare. Most were hostile, but some were curious. Rowan kept his head high, trying not to let his fear show on his face. He knew right now he should be comforting his family, but that might be met with some backlash from their escorts, so he stood tall for now.
The dark grey tom stopped in front of a skinny, light brown tom covered in scars. His right eye was a milky white, and he gave a twisted grin once he saw Rowan.
"Let me guess, you're taking these prisoners to Trickle?" The tom's voice was deeper than Rowan expected. "You're cold, Dec." He gave a sharp cackle, which then turned into a laughing fit, the male finding something amusing with what he said.
"Frasier," Dec rumbled, his deep voice holding a warning as he fixed Frasier with an icy gaze.
"Yes, yes, go on." Frasier stepped aside to allow them to enter the barn.
Without a word, they stepped inside. Sunlight was filtering through some holes in the top of the barn, and it had a cozy feel to it. It was clean, with a designated sleeping area to the left. In the back of the barn, there was a ladder leading to the loft. Behind the ladder, there was a dark space that appeared to be occupied. It was partially blocked off by bales of hay and coughing could be heard coming from the left side of it. Across the space, in the dark area underneath the ladder on the right side, mewling could be heard.
Rowan looked around in awe. This group of cats was living together and thriving. It was amazing. Dec's deep voice shook Rowan back to the problem at hand.
"Stay here," he growled before bounding up the ladder. He stood at the top of the loft, and it looked as though he was talking to someone, although Rowan couldn't hear what he was saying. After a moment of awkward waiting, Dec returned to them and a cat appeared at the edge of the loft.
"Come forward," he commanded.
The voice sent a shiver down Rowan's spine and his eyes widened with shock as he stepped into the middle of the barn. His body was numb as he tried to wrap his mind around what was happening. Now that they had gotten closer, Rowan could clearly see the figure standing above him.
"T-Timber?" he choked, disbelief thick in his voice.
Trickle paused, looking down at Rowan with disdain. "Not anymore, Rowan," he spat. "Why are you here?" He stood tall, like a leader, like someone who had rebuilt his life based on revenge.
Rowan's legs were weak and he sunk down to crouch on the floor. He couldn't believe his quiet, loving brother had changed so much. "I wanted to make up. I wanted you to meet my family. I wanted us to be a family again." He looked up at Trickle, hope gleaming in his eyes. He beckoned behind him. "This is my mate, Fern. And my kits, Aspen, Marigold, Fox, and Fawn."
Interest lit up Trickle's eyes. "Your kits, you say?" he murmured to himself, looking past Rowan to them. His gaze flicked back to Rowan. "I didn't want to see you again, so what makes you think I want to meet your family?" He eyed Marigold. "Like you, they're disgusting."
Marigold leaped forward, but was stopped by Dec. "You piece of fox dung!" she snarled. Dec growled and knocked her to the ground with one huge paw.
"Hm, for that little outbreak," Trickle mused, breaking into a grin after a moment's thought, "Imprison them, but leave her." He flicked his tail at Marigold. "I'll deal with her attitude personally."
"No!" Rowan yowled as a large and very strong tom dragged him away. He struggled, but it was no use. He watched helplessly as Trickle leaped down the ladder and approached Marigold. His face twisted into a snarl and he slashed at Marigold's face. She screeched in pain as Trickle's paw sent blows at her body again and again.
Beside him, Fern was wailing as her kit was mutilated. Rowan closed his eyes tightly until they were out of the barn. He couldn't stand to see his daughter in pain and wished he could help her.
Rowan stumbled as he was shoved down a tunnel along the side of the barn. The tunnel was small and the dirt walls scraped at his sides. Eventually, it widened out into a rather large cave, with other tunnels branching out from it. There were shoved past the cats on guard and into a smaller cave. This one could barely fit all of them, and they were promptly left there with the promise that "Trickle would deal with them tomorrow."
Once they were alone, Fern buried her head in Rowan's shoulder with a sob. Rowan licked her ears soothingly as the rest of his kits pressed against him, seeking comfort as well.
"Marigold will be fine," he reassured them. "She's strong, she can survive this."
She must.
Chapter Three-TBA |
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