Elemental Clan Idea (looking for helpers)

Hello, I am interested! ^^

I'm gonna type up the form for my bab (it'll be a bit long as I'm going into complete and full detail with him)

sure! But we shouldn't rp here this is just the planning pages.

oh okay makes sense, Bare with me I'm having trouble wording this. Will everyone in the clan have elemental powers or just the council of cats?

As in space do you mean astral? Can you explain that one to me a bit more please?

So the elementals are the only ones who have powers. When an elemental dies the ancestors choose the most eligible cat to take over the abilities and responsibilities of the fallen elemental.

I don't have a planned layout no. I can't code.

We'll make a description of the abilities that each elemental has and what they do (each elemental has a role in sustaining their lands[territory])
Matter of fact, I already wrote out the territory and everything if you wanna read it.

sorry for just the late reply trying to wip out my character. I'll be on almost all night though.

I see you've got a layout for the main page! I like it by the way! It would be cool once the rp gets up and rolling to do each post as the elements, so the first post is fire, then water, then earth, then air and then space.

I would also like to see the territory you have written up! Id suggest also putting the territory on the main page as well. Will we be adding everything else later on?

Those with the power of space are the holders of the history and stories of the clan and the very world. They can converse with the stars to learn about the world and the stories it holds while also being able to read and chart the stars as well.
They are also the ones who bring forth the prophecies of our world.
Powers of the space elemental include summoning a star for light, being able to breath perfectly anywhere, even in a smoke filled room or a place with barely any air, and they can use dark matter and shadows to camouflage or even fight with.

Sounds good!
Tell me when your form is finished and we can start then

The Forest:
Upon the forest floor lie trees of yesteryear, fallen in storms long forgotten. The seasons have been harsh, stripping away the bark and outer layers, yet rendering them all the more beautiful. They have the appearance of driftwood, twisting in patterns that remind one of seaside waves; even the colour of the moss is kelp-like. They are soft, damp, yet when touched you come away dry. The trees are several houses tall, reaching toward the golden rays of spring. The forest is the orchestra of my mind, playing one enchanting symphony after another. Her leaves dance to an unheard beat, whispering their songs to the wind. In here, sheltered by the mighty trees, is every kind of life, from the humble beetle to enchanting birds of every colour.
Spring: Birdsong comes in lulls and bursts, the silence and the singing working together as well as any improvised melody. When the day is growing old and the hearth calls, the sun sinks down beneath the tops of the trees. The light streaks through the boughs in both brilliant and shadowy beams. In the summertime they were white gold, illuminating the greens into virescent riots. At last the spring had arrived, breathing warm winds over the desolate landscape. The dishevelled grasses soon became lush, erasing even the memory of their wintry selves. The trees budded with leaf and blossom, and the harsh sleet became soft rain. The remnants of snow had entirely vanished and the rivers swelled with the melt water. The only brilliant white remaining was that on the snowy peaks of the mountains that ringed the land.
Summer: Summer comes fast, as music turned up to full volume. The sky blazes blue and the sun is a celebration of yellow, free and bright. The trees rise to the occasion, donning their best verdant hues, and everywhere are the flowers, the scattered rainbow that they are. In the forest the sky vanishes almost completely, only a few fragments of blue remain- like scattered pieces of an impossible jigsaw puzzle. The air is rich with the fragrance of leaves and loam, damp too. Even so many hours after the rains have passed, the soil remains wet, slowly releasing its heady fog. Outside is the noon daylight, the powerful rays of early summer, but in here everything is cool and the colours have the softness of that time just before twilight. The only movement is the occasional bird, startling in a tree or a squirrel dashing up a nearby trunk. The sound of running water in the brook has the same hypnotic quality as music. The huckleberries are mostly red, tart but with just the right amount of sweetness.
Fall: As the days wane, the nights close in and the trees don their vibrant hues, a chill creeps into the air. Not the bite of wintry blusters, but just a nip to let us know a new season is at hand. The wide avenue is lit by the first rays of the day, shining through a thin layer of grey cloud like a stain glass window. No more are the trees their virescent hues of spring and summer, but are scarlets and gold. In just a few weeks they will stand naked in the frozen air, bereft of their gaiety. Golden themes, golden dreams, the stage curtain of summer falls. Streets of regal carpets, air of earth's perfume, wheat fields shawn low. The apple of the seasons, the crown of the year, autumn comes as the sweetest song. Hearts warm as temperatures retreat, she's a kiss to the summertime gone, a love letter to the winter to come.
Winter: On these wintry days the fogs cast those same beams of light into sepia tones and the woodland becomes the most beautiful of photographs. The trunks of fallen trees bare icicles longer than my hand, no two of them the same - more enchanting than any work of man. Every twig and blade of grass grows winter "leaves" of ice crystals, frost deeper than the fleece in my gloves. And never is the woodland silent, though it is quieter than any city street for sure. There are the birds above, calling, pecking for grubs. There is movement of mammals, mostly small, sometimes not. There is the water that flows quietly until it meets the sharp rocky scree slopes and forms the waterfalls I love so much.


The Graveyard:
Here is where the forest began, where the growth of the forest first started with that first bud of a tree. This tree marks the resting place of all we have lost. The grounds are surrounded by a wall of ivy and holly that was grown by the first earth elemental. Within these walls are countless graves, each one marked by a pile of stones. Some have flowers and prey, offerings to the dead from those that miss them.


The Meadows:
The meadow was a glorious expanse of grass and meadow flowers, grass rustling gently in the breeze. There was a narrow brook flowing through it choked with weeds. Tall water-mint with pale lilac flowers, like dozens of tiny bells were growing at the edge of the brook. The meadow was a riot of colour. The burnt orange Butterflyweed stood tall amongst the grasses and the prairie Black-eyed Susans appeared to reflect the brilliant yellow of the sun herself. The Prairie Blazingstar stood like tall purple bushy cat-tails. Near the edges of the lazy river grew the blue-violet Wild Irises, tall and proud. It was a place I could go with my sketching pad and draw until the light drained from the sky.


The Mountains:
The mountains lay in a great line like the spine of the land. It was as if long ago they were a great beast, only to lie down one day and never get up. Perhaps the beast fell into an enchanted sleep, perhaps its soul was still in there. The range was high to the west and low to the east, curling at the end like a tail. They surround our lands like a wall, rising up into snow-capped peaks and hiding our home away from prying eyes. The highest peak of the mountains isn't even really a mountain though. The volcano lies craggy against the bright blue sky, like a bomb in wonderland. There is no timer, no red wire or green, we live never knowing if it will rain lava and rock, if it will destroy us and all we have worked for. But like anyone who lives with a constant danger, you learn to put it out of your mind.


The Ocean:
The other border of our lands, the second mighty beast that protects is that of salt water and life. Every drop is inconsequential, nothing in the grandness of the ocean. But when they all move together, as one body- therein lies the power. From the surface it may remain tranquil for many days, months even, but it's strength is not gone, merely dormant. Below the surface, no matter how still, are unstoppable currents moving unimaginable volumes of briny water many thousands of kilometres. From above it seems no more alive than a bucket of water, yet below is more life than the skies above or the land it kisses. Truly it is another world, an alien landscape. It is one we should visit with reverence.


The Waterfall:
From a distance the waterfall had been like a silent white stream cascading over the rocky outcrops. As they had drawn closer the noise had increased steadily until they were only a few hundred metres away. They could no longer even shout to one another over the deafening roar of the water. Closer still they drew until they were in the plume of water vapour that hung over the plunge pool and in only minutes they were as wet as they would have been in any rainstorm.


The Abandoned House:
There stood a lone structure, reaching the sky...it was left disregarded with no one near it. overtime the bricks had weakened, the paint wore off and layers of dust coated over it. the building surely looked aged. It had been abandoned but was taken over by pigeons fluttering in the rooms and nesting by the windows, spiders building webs and bats sheltered here for the night. The paint over the soft wood is deep like the way mother spreads her cream cheese. The flakes peel at random depths showing different sun-baked hues underneath. The door, once cherry red, is just the same, though the peelings are all shades of a pink that surrendered to the high sun year after year. It will move on its hinges still, but with the weariness of an old man. It creaks, the moan echoing to the rafters that still fight the sagging roof above. The windows no longer beckon light inside, no longer lift the gloom that the walls impose. Instead they add to the growing sense of damp and dark and permit the chill wind to penetrate.


Ancestor's Cavern:
To enter the cave was to become engulfed in chilling blackness. The absence of light meant the absence of its warming touch. Underfoot the loose stones shifted, twisting your ankle one way and then the other, and the noise of those disturbed rocks echoed off the dense stone walls. Ahead was the sound of water dripping into water. But without even a single ray to cast light into the black there was no way to tell how deep it was or if your next step would take you into it's frigid depths. Following the darkness further a strange light can be made out in the echoing of silence around you and suddenly a cavern opens up before you, a crack ricocheting though the earth above you as though someone had used their own paws to pull it apart and let the lights above flow inside; and at its center was a crystal. The crystal glowed as if it welcomed the light in some embrace more than took it though so passively. The colours that shone in the brilliant light of day were a richness only nature can bring, a different sort of glow than the golden pools of streetlights. It was somehow more than light and molecules in that moment, as if together they were something greater than either could ever be alone.


The Test:
The maze of caves began at the start of the Path of Betrayers and was the true test of courage. The test all had to pass to become a true warrior of the clan. But in that maze one would have to face their own personal fears, every one of them and still proceed to the centre. They would hear taunting voices and see their worst fears brought to life. They would hear how they were unworthy. They would be goaded into committing betrayals against those they loved, because to betray love was to betray the clan. They would have a hundred ways to fail and only one way to succeed. They had to walk through every fear, face down their own demons and do no harm. They would have to set off into the maze with no light, no guide, no map, but with their eyes wide open.


The Lover's Ruins:
What was left stood in spite of itself, defying gravity in its precarious way. Yet, this place, kept secret by the trees, was safe. It had avoided modern man's destructive touch and so had become a sanctuary for the animals. The columns were the only complete thing, everything else had worn and crumbled - their decay the only marker of time in a place of uncounted days. Light shone in, illuminating the relics, precious secrets of the forest. This place that has withstood the test of time is the place of lovers and mates, where they make their vows that their love will survive just as the ruins have.


Path of Betrayers:
The mountain path ahead was loose rock, each one washed smooth by the river that once ran freely over them. It winded up into the mountains like a snake over land, splitting all and leading those who have betrayed our trust away forever. Those that murder, usurp, and steal are destined to one day walk this path and leave our lands to never return.

No we'll be using a different one

Do u like the territory?

that is the final territory. That's the land where the clan is going to settle down.