Flareinix

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Clan character: MeadowClan uphold's elegance in the very way that they talk and in the way that they move. They keep themselves light and unassuming to neighboring Clans and outsiders alike. However, upon being the closest to StarClan, and upon the blessings bestowed to them through herbs, MeadowClan cats are quick to become measured, discreet, and restrictaroy of their Clan's whereabouts. However, such prehensiveness stems from the honor and respect held for the gardens that hold the bodies of their ancestors and the preserverance shared amongst their Clanmates alive in the present. MeadowClan doesn't have much to give, and neither the resources to survive alone. However, the herbs provided to them to stave off their desperation and to keep them healthy

MeadowClan's attitude is born from it's first tale, one that brings about these. It is said that the bodies of MeadowClan's first settlers fed life into the soils of their territory upon the great travesty that rendered their bodies down into ashes and cinders. It is admissed that the cats of the past are the ones who are strengthing the roots of the plants and herbs and flowers that make up the lands of MeadowClan's, and having even brought anew their Greenhouse that is confidently said to house every remedy under the sun. These herbs are born, grown, and protected from the spirits of ancestors. And so, as these plants, these bodies of their old clanmates, grow and wilt through the seasons, so too do the MeadowClan cats that they grow besides them. 

This tale has brought MeadowClan see themselves as a collective. They're to be open-minded and insistent of the philosphies and dreams and ideas of their clanmates. Everything that is said to one cat, the whole of MeadowClan keeps it. The secrets of their shared land can only be kept if they learn to foster a deep sense of community, commitment, and trust in one another. As such, this becomes their way of life. Their secrets theirs to cherish, and to be held by the gaze of StarClan as well.

Prominent resources: MeadowClan holds a plethora of different varieties of medicines and herbs. Herbs from their Greenhouse are pricey. After all, The Greenhouse protects their more delicate, rarest herbs. Cats are often told to pay twice the amount of what is typically given from their smaller garden, much to their neighboring Clan's chagrin. Outside of trading raw, unfiltered goods for the health the Clans their woven goods made of twine, twigs, sticks and leaves, and resources taken off from the scarecrow that is typically bundled up in all sorts of things capable of being used to nest-liners. Things such as woven baskets and pouches and all sorts of useful, crafted resources are readily available.

Renowned skills: Inquisitive, intuitive, with their minds running the same length at their quick thinking while on their feet, MeadowClan cats are known for their disarmingly good communication, great intuition, and sharp senses. These attributes are adopted from hunting smaller, faster types of prey as their food source and as pests feeding away their gardens. Cats from across the Ashen Plains are always said to keep their ears sharp and to stand firm in their choices around these felines, for they're quick to sense when anything is amiss. Whether a slip of a paw in battle, or the air of doubt or apprehension lingering in the air, they're quick to carry out any cirucmstance in their favor so long as there is an opening for them. 

MeadowClan camp: Tall, overarching canopies, embellished with innumerable, sweet-scented tangerines, make up the dens surrounding MeadowClan. They come together to create a large canopy, where warriors make their nests across the branches where the leaves protect them from weathering, whereas the most bountiful perch resides as the leader's perch. Below the canopies, a rickety wagon is found toppled on its side, resting beneath the eaves of the tall trees. There, different carrier baskets herald as nests for the apprentices. Below the trees and the wagon, a large, tunneling burrow rests beneath MeadowClan's territory, discreetly placed behind the littered hawthorns and brambles that supplemented the forest floor. This intended to protect their elders from potential invasions and health risks which may arise from environmental causes as the seasons change. MeadowClan's healer's den resides in a more open, sparser area where the trees divide from it's rows of tall barks to smaller, compact shrubs. Their clear access to the sky above them brings a touch of closeness to StarClan, where the healers of their clan an interpret signs in the depths of the great night sky. 

Greater MeadowClan territory: Rolling hills, jagged valleys, and sprawling acres of wildflowers brings to light the distinct smells and sights of MeadowClan's land. Northwards of MeadowClan's camp holds small, wooden structures of rotting harvestables and soil for the gardens. MeadowClan's acclaimed gardens are found right beside the compost pile, while further east leads to the renowned Greenhouse, nestled between long, flushed ferns and a thickset of shrubs. West from the Greenhouse is the golden fields that, upon reaching the other side, marks the line between MeadowClan's and DawnClan's borders. There also inhabits an old tractor shed with a large, worm-eaten windmill that spins slowly from the strong winds that occupy the area, and within the fields lies the scarecrow posts, where multiple fake farmers litter across the area. East of the Greenhouse houses the valley of expansive land, filled with valleys and plants and flowers and a braided river channeling through the soil, and furhter south-east, far into the corners of MeadowClan's territory, rests StarClan's grounds— The Star Gardens and The Moon Fountain.

A vision wrought in plumes of smoke and death sears the mind of those who are open to it, the acrid burn more intense than any flame.

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Burning ash fills the air amidst a now barren field filled with eyes hollowed and empty, a void where there was once hope. Life was once prosperous, but sometimes turns cruel when it is least expected. There are ways that the stars test the living, and those ways always end up being something much more grueling than anything anyone could ever imagine. Lush fields, lively animals, and treasures among the dirt; these were all lost to the greatest destroyer one could ever face.

Fire.

As the smoldering embers flutter away into the cold breeze of a leaf-bare sky, paws pad across the fire and twinkle like the sky above as the last of the ash bursts beneath. These powerful figures almost seem too graceful and bright to simply be part of the living, yet their solid figures outlined in the night doesn’t give room for anything else to be a possibility. Slowly, all three open their jaws and their combined voices echo out into the ears of all listening…

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Welcome to Once the Fire Fades!

What Once the Fire Fades Offers:

An 18+ SFW server with literate roleplay that encourages creativity and collaborative writing.

A diverse, LGBTQ+ staff focused on fostering a friendly environment with zero tolerance for bigotry.

Diverse Clans inspired by western gothic aesthetics and the rugged, rural countryside they inhabit. Within resides layered bartering systems, interclan politics, and rife tensions between them to match.

Original, multifaceted Clan culture unique to each coalition, coinciding with brand new warrior roles suited to their particular territory.

Expanded aging system, including the brand new rank of senior apprentice and extended feline lifespans allowing you to fully play out each phase of your character’s life in-depth. 

One-of-a-kind Clan lore with interactive holidays and traditions specific to each group.

Season based event system alongside concurrent changes within the territory for additional in-character immersion. 

Frequent server events open to all participants. 

Interactive story with overarching plot prompts that can be influenced by player choice.

In-depth, varied territories and landmarks which extend far beyond Clan borders.

Extensive storytelling and lively world building which members can actively contribute to.

Active, communicative, and friendly staff who thrive on player feedback.

15 character slots for each member to create their own diverse cast, be they Clan cats, outsiders, or kittypets.

StarClan and Dark Forest cats open to be roleplayed as.

And much, much more!!!

Explore our world and learn more about the unique territories and Clans which preside over them:

DawnClan | MeadowClan | RubbleClan | Map | Pre-server Timeline

Our applications are currently open. Please use the link below to apply and become a part of our community! We hope to hear from you soon!

https://forms.gle/sb67RjsNG34ejJvf9

Meet one of my beloved characters on @oncethefirefades ! DawnClan’s traumatized healer and ultimate mother figure. She’ll read you fables to bed and bless you with moon water 🌙

guy who considers jumping people an olympic sport. he has a gold medal in it btw

[HIGHRANK ADOPT] MEADOWCLAN’S DEPUTY

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A tall, lithe, ticked tabby cat with soft yet untamed fur like rolling waves and piercing ice-blue eyes // Between 88-96 moons old // Name, gender, and personality up to adopter.

[BACKSTORY]

Born a loner from distant territories, [NAME] knew nothing but the small family which served as their first guidance in this unsteady world. Their mother alongside their sibling, Fortune, comprised the focal point of day-to-day life as they learned how to survive with the precious little they possessed. Tensions between the siblings and their mother were always somewhat strained— while such doubts were never voiced aloud, they both were well aware she only cared for them out of obligation— however [NAME] and Fortune held a nearly inseparable bond. No matter how difficult things got, [NAME] at least had one ally to rely on. Yet such fragile peace is not one destined to last. When a particularly vicious argument broke out between Fortune and their mother, [NAME] found themself stuck in the middle as all those little grievances roiled painfully to the surface. Their dispute peaked with Fortune turning his back on them both, striking out alone down the winding alleyways of their dusty little twolegplace. [NAME] attempted to follow, but was stopped in their tracks by Fortune himself. With the tang of bitter conviction on his tongue Fortune explained that he needed time to figure himself out, parting from his sibling with a sentiment which would linger in [NAME]’s ears for moons to come— “She’s right. A stray’s path is one meant to be walked alone, not dictated by someone else. We won’t ever know the depths of our strength until we find it for ourselves.” 

Now alone, [NAME] couldn’t bring themself to return to their mother after what had transpired. Left with no other option they began wandering aimlessly— now a true loner— seeking out some semblance of meaning wherever they could find it. (What transpires in this time period and how it shaped the character is left entirely up to the adopter)

It is in the most unexpected of circumstances that [NAME] finds their eventual answer. Their paws managed to find footing in the groves of MeadowClan (the specifics of how and why left up to adopter). They decide to join this community of clever, closely interlinked cats which so deeply valued devotion. While it took effort to prove themself worthy of a place within the clowder especially when placed under the scrutiny of MeadowClan’s most shrewdly pious members, [NAME] committed themself to this goal and eventually earned the trust of the community— even going on to be selected as deputy by Heronstar. 

Having accumulated such newfound purpose and honor over the past several seasons was enough for [NAME] to begin settling into relative contentedness, though it something still felt as if it was missing. A blurred void in their chest, fuzzy around the edges, easy to ignore yet made visible upon facing an unexpected reminder. They would only know what shape this gap encompassed when one gathering under the full moon’s illuminating glow they saw a cat they never thought they’d see ever again. Suddenly all the time which had passed didn’t matter as they reunited— now with different names, and belonging to different Clans— but feeling just as relieved to see the other alive. It’s from here that [NAME] of MeadowClan and Fortunebane of RubbleClan began to reconnect, their paths realigning once again.

[PLOT]

Heronstar will make a decisive and bold announcement at an upcoming gathering, informing the other two Clans that MeadowClan will be raising their trade requirements for herbs and requiring more resources in exchange for them. Of course this news isn’t taken well by DawnClan or RubbleClan, particularly considering each clowder had been wracked by a grueling sickness which had consumed most of their stores only a few moons before. Fortunebane, the RubbleClan treasurer knows that RubbleClan desperately needs those herbs, and so he formulates a duplicitous plot to get them. 

It’s straightforward, [NAME] will lure Heronstar out to a previously agreed upon location away from any prying eyes, and Fortunebane will ‘take care’ of the leader’s one remaining life, making way for [NAME] to take his place. Fortunebane convinces them that this will be best for both of their Clans, as Heronstar is jeopardizing MeadowClan’s standing with the other groups by enacting this controversial decision, and if he and [NAME] work together as cats in optimal positions of power they can ensure that MeadowClan and RubbleClan can have a prosperous future as allies. [NAME] agrees (their exact thoughts/feelings are up to adopter) and the two siblings begin executing the plan. 

Things go smoothly until Heronstar is actually cornered, and (for reasons/means up to the adopter) [NAME] wants to back out of the plan— but it’s too late. Fortunebane swiftly rips Heronstar’s life away from him, and turns claws on [NAME] should they attempt to fight back. The skirmish is so intense that [NAME] nearly dies, running away (for exact reasons/emotions up to adopter) to the twolegplace in self-imposed exile. 

However [NAME] cannot tear away from their deeply enlaced ties so easily, as some weeks later their path crosses that of MeadowClan’s healer, Crowstone, who informs them of Heronstar’s recent, permanent passing— unknown to all the Clan other than the healers— alongside a prophecy which would allow them back into the Clan, with their previous rank maintained— at a price. “One will betray their leader for a noble cause, and the stains on their paws will leave laurels blooming in their wake.”

Crowstone will bring them to the good graces of his Clan and do good in StarClan’s name by continuing to adhere to their prophecy, but only if they follow his lead and heed his every word in order to keep this position. [NAME] (whose thought process and feelings are up to the adopter) begins believing that maybe this was all meant to happen, and they could be absolved of their actions yet upon Crowstone’s insistence that they were always meant to be leader. So [NAME] returns to MeadowClan, unaware that Crowstone’s motives are far more personal than mere piety.

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This character will remain open for applications until the end of this month. If you are interested in applying for this role or one of our other high ranks, you can apply to join our server here. A link to our adoption form is provided within the adoptable channel that you can fill out and complete for your application to be considered. Thank you for all your interest, we hope to see your applications soon!

Currently, there is no closing date for applications as they will remain open until we have reached the desired number of members for our server. Our applications will not be running on a first come, first serve basis. Instead, on the form given below, we ask that people fill out the following information that is requested and the members of staff will be reviewing it to see if you are a good fit for the community we are building. This is to ensure that we maintain a safe environment filled with roleplayers with similar interests and intents.

After you have submitted the form, since members of staff will be reviewing each application personally, we ask that you give a few days time to hear back about a decision. Acceptances will be sent via discord dm to the account provided, so please be sure that you have requests turned on to receive that message!

We will continue posting information for our server while applications are open and announce once they are close to closing and finally closed. Please stay tuned for what comes next because we promise there is still a lot more to offer past the little bit of lore we have shared so far.

Introduction to RubbleClan: Gloomstar Speaks

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Apprehension tempered by awe fizzes beneath your pelt like trapped static, finally brought before a cat whose remarkable tales are spoken of in hushed whispers throughout the territories. A gigantic, imposing tom with a build hewn from stone and fur the color of billowing smoke. He is rumored to be incredibly secretive, yet unswerving in resolve once he sets his mind upon something. His pyrite stare rests steadily upon you as he remains silent, yet the singularity of his stare feels as if every layer of your soul is being examined. You are still unsure if your path truly lies with this Clan, following in the pawsteps of this leader, however upon finally meeting face-to-face a sense of wonder encompasses you, ushering your words forth before you have a chance to regret remaining silent. You must start somewhere, after all.

“How do you feel about the Clan you lead?”

The trodden path of which you embark lies littered with the skeletal remains of monsters and machinery, some still scarred with the marks of fire-touched claws. As the scent of sour metal curls beneath your crinkling nostrils, a brooding, shaded figure descends from the wreckage before you. His massive, bony frame bends to meet your gaze crookedly, his glowing yellow eyes piercing through yours. With a rasp rumbling through his damaged vocal chords, the imposing cat instructs you, his voice as thick as churning gravel.

“Follow, stranger.”

Without waiting for a response, you watch his muscular shoulders disappear through a hidden tunnel located beneath the claylike soil. Candescent insects buzz between your whiskers as the old tom stops before a set of strange markings that have been etched into the burrow’s wall. The cat-scratched drawing glows in the yellow light of the surrounding insects, recognizable to you as a massive fire erupting from a metallic skeleton similar to the one you’d just seen. United beneath the smoke and ash, the figures of three cats—three subsequent paths—flicker within the light. One, of hooves and herds, another of flowers and fruit, the last, of old tires and metal. Above them, a scrawled depiction of stars, a mass expanse of power shaped into constellations of cats rests. Through their eyes flows a fountain, a reflection of the moon upon its surface. His gaze remains fixed upon the drawing, his scarred, boxy paw tracing the edges of the cat surrounded by wheels, machinery, and water. Slowly, he speaks.

“This is the story of RubbleClan,” he coughs harshly. “Where Dawn found purpose in wildlife and flocks, beasts and pastures, Meadow grew enlightened by tilling soil and blooming gardens.”

Swallowing the dryness that had overtaken his damaged throat, the smoke pelted senior continued. “Rubble formed his own path with a more hardened spirit. Quiet resilience and a deafening courage trailed in his wake. In RubbleClan, we follow his virtue of thriving within turmoil and growing with our suffering—that difficulties make you who you are. In my leadership, I protect my Clan through sacrifice, as nothing matters more than protecting them. I watch over them as they form beneath the pressures life offers.”

With a ragged clear of his throat, the leader continues down the tunnel. Another scribbling fades into view, its depictions stretching across a wide span of dampened earth. Clawed into the dark spandrels of sediment lies a few vivid scenes—of cats in the act of creation of art and sculptures, of grief and gifts given to the solemnly flowing river. Felines of large statures deconstructing metallic traps set by twolegs, the following scene a depiction of various adventures using the parts of those very same dangers for prosperity of the hunt, for the capture of prey. Before you lies pictures which gift your eyes the sights of a silent community hard at work of the construction of rugged, detailed infrastructure. Lastly, the hefty visuals of mighty predators outrun, churning floods and cats traversing sheer ridges and unknown territory beyond Clan borders.You begin to gain a picture of what this “RubbleClan” is all about—independence, resilience, honor, power. To overcome and to build, to create and to quietly love from afar. To give away and to change with the flooding lands. To treasure what washes ashore. To explore beyond what you know. The stoic leader’s hardened face lifts slightly as he watches the understanding rise within your eyes.

“I never cared for appearances and words,” he rasps. “Through individuality, RubbleClan finds honor. To prove oneself, to teach rather than team, is our way of life. Others may view us cold or distant, and perhaps we are,” he scowls, “but without space, one cannot grow.”

He awaits no response, and simply ambles down the shadowed tunnel, a silent expectation for you to follow suit endows you.

“How strict are you in terms of leading with the warrior code?”

“The Warrior Code, a creed most of our kind follow, holds little weight here,” the old leader growls as he shambles down the darkened path. With his sharp jaw bathed in the white glow of moonlight, the old tom’s face crinkles. “Morals cannot be defined by a simple ruleset. No struggle a warrior may face is linear. Do not mistake my words for heresy, young one. I simply encourage my warriors to follow their instincts, to assess each pressure with the criticality it requires.”

With a deep, rigid breath, the seasoned warrior continues. “We respect our ancestors’ stories, and we learn from their teachings—their life experiences—not a set of ideals. To lead my Clan with simple principles would be to spit on their minds. The stars may teach us, but they do not walk with us,” he scowls. “I trust my warriors to assess each situation with intuition over doctrine.”

“How do you feel about the other two Clans?”

As heavy footsteps echo throughout the tunnel, the leader stops at one last set of drawings, located below towards the unstable grounds of which you stand. As the silver dapples of starlight stretch across the nearby exit to the tunnel, the old tom’s eyes harden. Before him lies a set of swirls and spirals, dancing linework that evokes imagery of vivacious groves and valleys, blooming flora and elegantly poised felines within them. Within their jaws lies many herbal depictions, a harsh contrast to what you now recognize as RubbleClan’s hardened warriors of stone, water, and clay. With wistful eyes, the leader stares at the drawing in silence, almost as though there’s a wave of memories rising and falling throughout him, bitter and fond alike. 

Slowly, his solemn yellow eyes drift to the other drawing, of more rounded, thicker linework. Wide, sweeping edges of burly cats and horseshoes, of chickens and wooden fences, of cats carrying wool alongside canines. Compared to the sharp, jagged edges of the final scrawling, the smoke pelted tom brandishes his claws as each seeps into the soil with misty anger. With eyes locked onto the ground below, the leader’s mind appears to have drifted somewhere less than pleasant. Your own eyes follow his as depictions of strife and bloodshed toil across the floor before you, blocked by the overcasted shadow of the now clouded moon.

“RubbleClan’s past will not define its future,” he growls, his lean muscles bunching over his bony frame. “With hardship sometimes follows desperation. Starvation begets blood. The blood of cats, I wish had never been shed,” the old tom’s sharp teeth glint beneath his contorted silvering muzzle as he grimaces. With grit, his gnarled voice strides onward, a hint of guilt lacing his bitter tone. “Fear strikes us like an illness. Lurking, until you’ve done something you cannot take back. Steelstar led us to battle, and in battle we found no respite, only death. With DawnClan nearly eradicated, I ended the violence my predecessor had started. I seek to never let my Clan fall so deeply into that kind of pain again. Though many of my kin disagree with my actions, I stand firmly by them. I can only hope DawnClan can forgive us for their losses, and that we can come to understand our differences.”

With heavy, ragged breaths, the leader’s gnarled voice strains to continue. “MeadowClan is….another story,” he winces, gripping his throat. “I’ve seen their festivals, the smiles they wear. They are….a strange bunch, as if they exist in a whole other world. Their naivety and appreciation for appearances puzzles me. They see themselves as superior, smarter, in many ways—and yet I feel I rarely see them outside the confines of their valleys. They are slow to battle and coy with their frilly words. To witness a MeadowClanner’s speech is to heed poetry—and trickery. I consider myself a more simple cat,” he wheezes, as though a specific memory of quiet fondness ripples behind his distant yellow gaze. With haste, he shakes it away and trods further into the moonlight, through the tunnel’s exit.

“How do you feel about outsiders and kittypets?”

Emerging from the dark warmth of the tunnel, cool night air hits your pelt with a howl. Before you lies a massive graveyard of great metallic skeletons, a junkyard of rust and sickly, dry grass. Glowing eyes emerge from the darkness of the monsters’ underbellies, distrust and pointed fury lacing their sharp pupils. As their leader pads into the clearing with you, you notice the clamoring sound of their hushed whispers circle the outer reaches of your ears. The old tom stops before them as they growl, “Gloomstar, who is this loner you’ve brought to our Clan?”

With that same hollowed yellow gaze he’d afforded you before, Gloomstar regards you with paw speak, his damaged voice shot from the prior explanations.

“Prove yourself, young one. For we have little to spare, and much to lose. While we have no hatred for those who are different, we must be selective in who we trust, for the safety of our home and the preservation of our limited resources.” Before you can stutter out a reply, Gloomstar stalks over to the biggest skeleton in the junkyard, a massive, boxy creature that reflects the moon’s silhouette in the night’s light. Scaling it effortlessly, he sits along the top of its intimidating frame, awaiting your response.

“What are some comments you would like to make about your leading style overall?”

A feeling of mystery overcomes you, almost as though the cats surrounding you fail to trust their own leader. With an unspoken anger bubbling beneath each of their harsh gazes, RubbleClan appears rife with suspicion and terse attitudes. Almost as if there’s something Gloomstar failed to mention….a hidden tension brewing beneath each cat’s stoic farce. What it is exactly escapes you as an outsider to this land, but one thing is certain, the leader’s quiet husky strength and outstanding grit are apparent to you. A protective aura surrounds him as he sits crooked atop his perch, as though the worn look upon his face betrays the sacrifices he’s made to lead them—all in spite of their clear mistrust for him. There’s a history here of war and hardship and distant camaraderie, and yet, you cannot shake the feeling that there’s more to uncover. A part of you wonders if RubbleClan’s leader is this secretive with his own warriors…

“Meet me here at the next Moonhigh,” he signs. “Bring as much prey as your jaws can carry. Show RubbleClan how you handle adversity, and let your strength overcome your strife.”

With that, his wispy, smoke furred tail flicks as he descends into the bulky metallic beast, your only view above of the swirling sets of eyes that make up the stars.

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Introduction to MeadowClan: Heronstar Speaks

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Apprehension tempered by awe fizzes beneath your pelt like trapped static, finally brought before a cat whose remarkable tales are spoken of in hushed whispers throughout the territories. An elegant, lithe tom with a stately disposition and fur the color of sunlight reflecting off a clear pool. He is rumored to be highly intelligent, knowledgeable yet shrewd when it comes to discerning the proper choices to settle upon. The dancing azure of his stare flits across your pelt as if he already has long since read your intentions, and you can’t help but feel the inexplicable impulse to impress him. You are still unsure if your path truly lies with this Clan, following in the pawsteps of this leader, however upon finally meeting face-to-face a sense of wonder encompasses you, ushering your words forth before you have a chance to regret remaining silent. You must start somewhere, after all.

“How do you feel about the Clan you lead?”

Leaves settle against the waking earth as the trees above it sway to the call of the wind. Its winding branches nearly puncture the sky as it reaches with all its might towards that ever-shifting hue of its face, as if it too can even grace its light. But the sky continues to pass by, even as the huddle of clouds hide its view, casting a cool shade over the serene landscape.

Unmoved by it all sat a lone tom, a long, silky white mane dangled off the tree branch dancing against the soft breeze, he slowly binked down at the bustling grove of his Clan, the tips of his lilac paws sweeping along the rough bark. A dark hat hid his expression from prying eyes but a mirth of a smile could be seen peeking underneath its shape. Tilting his head down a glow of brilliant blue eyes trace your figure, the tom’s body twists before a rush of air blows past your ears and there before you stood the same tom that once dangled from the restless tree. Age shows in his features but it did not do a disservice to his appearance, his eyes shine with a youthful spirit beyond his years yet remains wise by its own share of experiences. A breath of lavender clouded your senses as he approached, a calming embrace of familiarity yet an inexplicably wistful air resided with this slender cat. His greying muzzle breathed in a soft laughter as his lean figure dipped in respect at your appearance. 

“I see you have come to seek an audience with me? I can tell you hold many questions behind your tongue and I encourage your curiosity, little one. Would you allow me to regale you with the history left behind by our ancestors? Perhaps this could help quench your thirst?

–In years long past, when the earth was still fresh and the air was not laced with a charred scent, it had been said that our ancestors once stood side by side as one whole, collective unit bound by the single urge to hunt to their heart's content. While many enjoyed this shared comradery they held under one single piece of land, soon as the moons passed did a few started to spread their roots to enrich the mundanity of their lives. However, they did not know the calamity they had yet to endure in the horizons. In an instant, the land once beaming with life was consumed in a flash by the hunger of flames. The sky had turned an eerie red and its clouds darkened with ash, the only blinding source of light was the fires that surrounded the lands. And by then it was too late for you to escape its burning touch.Many lives were lost that day, a land that had once held beauty on its surface had been left with a hollowed look of a gaping hole of smeared remains. In the wake of the tragedy, the once united front have split off into three, each treading their own path to recovery.

Dawn held strong in the territory he marked before the fires, the edges of their territory had not been left unscathed but thankfully was the only thing that had suffered from the destructive force. In their truth– they sought thrill within the hunt, the plentiful prey and predators alike the territory offered. On the other paw however– Rubble’s territory had suffered the most, the cat’s that had huddled together in those lands had now thinned out to only a pawful at best and left with more wounds than a cat should carry. Despite it all Rubble led the straying fray to its desolet remaining territory, while left with nothing but ruin did they find a new driving source in their lands.

Then of course, Meadow had seemingly lost it all in the wake of the aftermath, they stood with the most disadvantage with dealing with the fires as their land became the biggest fuel to the gluttonous monster that tore through their grove. Even with her tiny paws, she could not stop as her home was whisked into ash, the blackened dirt forever marked what once laid there.Yet when she had returned one fateful night, as a call whispered out to her, the brown tabby molly surveyed the singed land without a clue what exactly what her eyes desired to search for. Nothing could have survived the intensity of those flames, not even the steel beasts that roamed these lands before had been able to withstand it.

Exhaustion creaked in every crevice of her bones, the drive that had seemed to have led her had almost extinguished alongside her hope. Her body finally gave weight to her sorrows, she blinked once, then twice, before her white underbelly too was tainted by the scar of the earth. As her green eyes gave one last flutter, the molly settled before she was consumed by the black void in her mind. But not all hope was lost yet, as her small ears flickered by the entrance of a new sound hushed by the echo of the wind. At first she could not pick up what she thought she was hearing, perhaps something more sinister lurked in the scorched lands where no life remained. It should have instilled her with a deafening fear in her heart, yet instead she found herself entranced all the same. As if a surge of new found energy had awakened in her.

Where the fire once roared and consumed a mouthful of flora that have long since rescinded into the soil, beneath all the debris of carnage laid something so infinitely small Meadow would have almost dismissed it as she padded by. Surrounded by nothing but the remains of what once was ash–laid the single bloom of hope that resurfaced in Meadow.

From then on this is where we have laid the foundations that you see today. Every great fruit tree that provides for us has been said to have been the few seedlings that Meadow personally attended to till her last breath. Even after she has joined silverpelt with her kin, MeadowClan continues to oversee the garden she had sowed with her paws. Cultivating generations of growth and enriching history in each root plant, holding great bounds of secrets within their stems. Now the once charred land bounced back with a wave of vegetation, while we still carry the scars that had entangled in our land, we carry the unshakable resilience that has given birth to a new life within the decay.”

“How strict are you in terms of leading with the warrior code?”

“When our founders first embarked upon their lands, it is said that silverpelt itself guided all weary souls to their final journey. Before they left to return back to the shimmering stardust, they bestowed upon us law to be ingrained in our blood. An oath that kept the Clans bound in harmony and in a forever cycle of prosperity in each other's company, the Clan’s found their relationship bound in symbiosis as the moon would the sun. Seasons of leadership have long since left their marks on the warrior code– each with their own tales to tell behind each one of their words.  With all that said and done, I can’t say all have been judged equally under its code. But to deny our oath is to shatter our foundation. Seasons long history have been etched into our language– our paths! We can no longer uproot it from our home, even if we willed it. Even if it chains them, all must face the fate that awaits them at the end of their journeys. As long as I live and breathe on this soil may all be faired equally under the oath they have promised under the moonlit sky. No matter how big or small, I will pass each with the honor they deserve. –I too am not exempt, should the Clan see that I have failed in my duty as their leader of MeadowClan, will I never fear for the pit that awaits me down my trail.”

“How do you feel about the other two Clans?”

“MeadowClan has always watched and stood by the sidelines as each clowder took shape in their own territories. We hold no favors for one, nor do we wish to hold their ire. It is not in our nature to wish ill of any cat, no matter their origins. As we stand to hold an example for all the youth in our clan to respect all clan cultures even if they may differ from our own, do I feel a purr of pride escape my throat as I watch the apprentices mingle about the silver tracks. Gatherings bring a new perspective to those outside our bubble, and may even challenge our views that hold us back. Open your ears and you may find a like minded individual as yourself amongst the crowd, perhaps even a rival who sharpens your wits as well as your skills, or even just observing and awaiting an opportunity to present themself. There are boundless possibilities that are ready to take place here.

 Trailing back to the Clans themselves, there is pride to hold in one's accomplishments I will say, and DawnClan has every right to hold them. To be able to not only coincide with the twolegs in their lands that rise at dawn and settle by dusk, but to also shelter alongside the prey the twolegs gather in their structures–one can only stand in awe at their prowess that they exude. Do not mistake our praises for envy, while MeadowClan has a sparse variety in its prey selection, we are not pitiful to demand more than what we need for our clan. Yet it seems when one holds an over abundance of prosperity, one forgets their reason and they hold a hunger far beyond the prey on their pile but the singular emotion that goes beyond the need of one selves. Our land may contain a myriad of foliage, but there is only so much one can give at a time. Little one, you can not command a tree to bend at your will to snatch their nutrients, the season has only just begun and yet the young blossoms have yet to even mature its leaves. Just as when we are wounded from battle, we need time to heal our scars and to nurture it so that we may not exhaust our bodies. Lest we seek to ruin ourselves to the point of no return. 

And RubbleClan– Ah I know I have already indulged far beyond than is necessary but could you perhaps listen to my plea? While I retain the stance that our ancestors have enacted long before I took the mantle, I hold high respect for a Clan that has found its own independence apart from what they were destined to hold. Many do not hold favorable opinions towards them as for us Clan cats have always sought our StarClan ancestors for guidance. They hold this stagnate resolve that grounds them in their own beliefs, their paws leading them down the path less traveled by the Clans. Words alone cannot hold their prestige justice in my own humble opinion. In recent events however I cannot say I can stand by their actions wholly, one–one should not take the lives of cats lightly. For it is something that cannot be brought back once they have reached the stars. It was senseless and unwarranted. MeadowClan can only pray for the victims of DawnClan in this time of grief, as well as the new direction RubbleClan is leading towards now.”

“How do you feel about outsiders and kittypets?”

“While MeadowClan seeks to expand their boundless leaps for knowledge, there have been concerns that have seemed to befall the clan for a extended amount of time I'm afraid. The elders have always been vocal in their insistence of–shall we say, withholding our share of the history we possess in our paws. I must reassure you that not all hold this same opinion under our orchard, age does a funny thing to our minds. Some grow wiser from their experiences, and will teach the youth an easier path that does not befall their same mistakes. Others seem to carry this belief that loyalty can only bloom in the visage of our gardens. In spite of their ignorance, they seem to have somehow forgotten that their own history that they recite if not every waking hour, than their whole lives.

The Clan may hold its reservations, but do not let this dissuade your decision in where you wish to place your paws. We were never built to be frozen in a stale state, immovable to change and growth. I hope to work towards destigmatizing my Clan to those who originated outside of our valley. While the choice is always ultimately up to you, I hope you are aware that I will await if you wish to call our grove your home.”

“What are some comments you would like to make about your leading style overall?”

“In life, you will find there will be more questions than the answers through the lingering answer unspoken. Not everything is as defined as the shade of our fur, nor the grain beneath our paws. There is no shame in requesting aid should you find yourself unable to bypass the walls. In community it is where we thrive as a collective that even the tiny ants may have the strength to till the earth beneath their claws. I take pride in being able to foster in the drive my clan needs to properly prosper and flourish without the worry of falling behind. 

MeadowClan welcomes you within our garden should the path appear to you. We may not be able to offer you the feats of glory a warrior hardened by battles may offer you, but there is fulfillment in the labor we put in our herbs, and there is a sense of accomplishment in the way we read the stars. I can hear the chimes of destiny call around you, walk the path that leaves no regrets.”

As he concludes, you notice quite a crowd has been drawn loosely around the two of you. Inquisitive felines observing, listening to stories of their past and the potential of their future from between the shaded fronds of lush foliage. Heronstar’s words have resonated with them as they do with you, and the community which has sprung from this grove like the most vibrant of flowers might even begin to feel like home— should you allow it the chance.

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Introduction to DawnClan: Stagstar Speaks

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Apprehension tempered by awe fizzes beneath your pelt like trapped static, finally brought before a cat whose remarkable tales are spoken of in hushed whispers throughout the territories. A tall, distinguished molly with a wild mane and fur the color of a horizon at sunset. She is rumored to be fiercely audacious, unrelenting with the application of her claws. While the sharp-brimmed hat she wears obscures her gaze, you feel as if it burns your fur from its scathing intensity alone. You are still unsure if your path truly lies with this Clan, following in the pawsteps of this leader, however upon finally meeting face-to-face a sense of wonder encompasses you, ushering your words forth before you have a chance to regret remaining silent. You must start somewhere, after all.

“How do you feel about the Clan you lead?”

“Seasons innumerable ago- before the oldest elder within all three Clans was even dreamed in blanketed stardust- three cats chose to walk differing paths into an uncertain future. Spiraling, interwoven trails in which their storied pawsteps would continue on to shape the fate of these lands forever. 

While Meadow sought tranquil meditation within the safe, placid greenery of hidden gardens, and Rubble vied for fierce independence away from other’s interference amid the skeletal monsters looming far across Storm River’s bend—Dawn alone was audacious enough to fully cooperate with both twolegs and beasts alike to secure a wild yet carefree future for his cats among the bustling farmland. A frontier which remains prey-rich no matter the season, hard won from numerous foes who wish to claim this abundant territory as their own. The Ranch has been our home for generations, and will remain so for countless generations to come. 

DawnClan is a bastion for those with a taste for excitement and the willingness to get their paws dirty. We are the sole Clan who have learned not only what it means to understand species outside of our own, but to truly partner with them as a form of mutual-fulfillment. Forming a symbiotic understanding with the fellow species who occupy this territory- from mighty horses with hooves that can crush a cat with a single kick to the humble chickens who provide their eggs and feathers in exchange for protection against all kinds of creatures that wouldn’t hesitate in stealing them away for a quick meal. Even the farmer’s dogs who look after the sheep and accompany them on their day-to-day patrolling have become accustomed to our presence, and occasionally we have come to aid each other in the most unexpected ways. 

In DawnClan we don’t hide from challenges. Adversity is a part of life, and we welcome it openly as a way to prove our strength and test the depths of our bonds with each other. Dancing boldly with predators and monumental beasts, outmaneuvering our adversaries with cunning—these skills we have honed to perfection across ceaseless moons. No other Clan is half as adept at hunting or tracking. Deer are brought down the same as mice through tenets of cooperation and coordination. Our pack moves and breathes as one, and no target can escape our claws once we’ve caught their scent. 

Our community is our lifeblood, intertwined at all times. We all sleep under the same roof rather than divided by individual dens, protected by the Barn’s steadfast walls. Competing with one another in friendly albeit intensely riveting contests, tending to the Ranch’s animals we live alongside, ranging together for miles on hunting expeditions—through good times and bad we will always overcome with family by our side and passion hotter than the rising sun blazing in our grins. There is never a dull moment within our roughneck Clan, and while dangerous thrills lurk around every corner those who join this family can be assured that they will never hunt alone. 

Ah, has this sparked your interest? I can see that intent gleam in your eye. There’s no need to be shy. A spirited, adventurous cat like yourself would fit in well as a member of our pack. Don’t let hesitance guide your decision—trust the desire for excitement which resides in your heart, the howling voice of your instincts. That is the first step to begin running unconstrained as a true DawnClan cat.”

“How strict are you in terms of leading with the warrior code?”

“The warrior code is like any other aspect of going through life as a warrior—something that should be acknowledged and respected. We honor the memory of our ancestors by following it and doing as they did. Strong roots are the keystone of a strong foundation, and the warrior code is a thread which ties every Clan to the stars no matter how divided we may become after all. However that being said, the leader alone enables this code to facilitate a Clan’s successful functioning, not the code enabling a leader to facilitate their Clan. I consider the code a guideline. It helps inform my decisions but will never be the sole crux which dictates them. My instincts have never failed me, and responding to a situation with my own judgement has always directed DawnClan successfully through struggle in kind. So long as the calls I make ensure DawnClan’s continued legacy— with only the best intentions in mind— I’m certain StarClan will continue to walk beside me.”

“How do you feel about the other two Clans?”

“DawnClan has never sought to make enemies of any particular cats. We have enough to handle when it comes to managing the animals under our care, ranging across seemingly endless terrain in wild hunts, and standing guard against various predators which may threaten the wellbeing of our Ranch. Scraps with rival moggies are generally better avoided when possible. That isn’t to say we’re afraid of conflict- far from it. Our territory is bountiful with many rich resources, ever-providing, made further abundant by all sorts of varied food sources remaining available regardless of seasonal shifts or poor weather. It’s only natural for the other Clans to feel envy, seeking to claim our fields for their own purposes through treachery and underhanded tactics. We never hesitate when the time for battle arrives, and our warriors are more than willing to fight unflinchingly against whoever we must while defending our home. 

MeadowClan is a curious bunch. They tend to stray away from any physical conflict. Likely well aware that they’re lacking when it comes to sheer strength, much as they hate being reminded of it. Instead they hide behind their resources, dictating the availability of herbs as if it grants them immunity from hostility. DawnClan has no reason to raise fangs against them- they’re eager enough to trade for our resources- however their methods are rather irritating to deal with simultaneously. Instead of initiating conflict directly they’d rather lurk in tall grass like the snakes which reside in their gardens—hiding behind bartering. Quick to get their tails in a twist over each leaf of every herb they’re so graciously bestowing upon us. Meadowclanners are sly, smiling to your face while envisioning how to dupe you out of a fair trade deal behind your back. Nonetheless, we can rest assured knowing those rabbit-hearts would never dare infringe on our borders directly. That counts for something, I suppose.

RubbleClan on the other paw has been nothing but a thorn in our side. The prolonged conflict between our Clans has had ramifications more catastrophic than blight staining a valley. They’re completely untrustworthy, snapping viciously at the chance to strike us where we’re weakest. Honor and even the warrior code clearly mean less than nothing in their minds, having long since proven they’re willing to kill if it meets their ends. We can never unsee the carnage-ravaged pastures RubbleClan watered with my comrades’ blood—much as they wish to sweep away their previous warmongering transgressions like nothing more than a petty squabble. Any so-called peace those treacherous moggies offer will always come with a steep price, one my predecessor was only willing to accept out of pure desperation. However, now that he has passed on… DawnClan does not forget or forgive quickly, and we won’t be caught unaware by them again.”

“How do you feel about outsiders and kittypets?”

“Outsiders have always held a place within DawnClan ever since the first warm rays of sunrise illuminated our newly established camp through sturdy wooden eaves. Kittypets, loners, and rogues alike can find safety here—we pride ourselves on our welcoming nature regarding cats from different walks of life. So long as they respect our ways and stir up no trouble, then there isn’t much reason they wouldn’t be allowed to join should they please. New faces are good, helps keep things lively around the ranch. Besides, we can always use more paws helping out here and there.”

“What are some comments you would like to make about your leading style overall?”

“DawnClan has faced numerous trials, yet our resolute belief in each other paired with an enduring drive to strike forward no matter what has always seen us through even the longest nights. Our Clan has always been bound together, our loyalty extending past simple kinship and the technicalities of blood. It is the heart which resides within the landscape of this territory, the warmth of a dawning sun and the song of breeze whistling through rolling pastures. All this and more we share with each other, united in unbreakable camaraderie from the start of DawnClan’s founding. I intend to continue that intense familial spirit our ancestors have sewn. I’ll do anything to protect my Clanmates and keep our Ranch safe. If I must be more vigilant, more sharp, more cold or brutal than the previous leaders of DawnClan to maintain our place in this territory then that is merely the burden I shall carry. I would easily lay down each and every one of these nine lives I’ve been given to protect my Clan, and I expect my Clanmates to share the same dedication.”

You open your jaws to query further, but the sharp whinny of horses and the rapid pounding of hooves against dusty earth from somewhere beyond the fence-line interrupt all other trains thought. Stagstar’s angular ears snap upward, head tipping back to peer at the slowly sinking sun’s position. The two of you have spoken for longer than anticipated, and as you turn to face the molly once again you’re met with nothing but the patch of slightly indented grass she once sat upon. Shock courses through you as your gaze darts about the area, finally catching upon the fence which leers above. There Stagstar is perched upon the apex, dusk swathing her in deep purple hues and a halo of fading ember light. Shadows of horses canter past her, and the evening wind stirs the fluttering mane of both. Stagstar meets your eyes steadily, her slender tail swishing only once in a wordless farewell before she vanishes to the fence’s other side. You get the sense she isn’t the type to linger in a single place for long. She’s told you what she felt compelled to say, and has left you with much to consider. Now the rest is up to you. Should you decide to heed her words, you know you’ll be able to find her again.

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Meeting at Moonhigh