History

Table Of Contents

Dawn of the Clans

Long ago, before any mortal now could remember, the lands that shelter the clans were once desolate plains. To the gods, it was an empty canvas to which the two brothers, Skystar and Seastar, desired to bring life to.

Skystar and Seastar bickered as they could not agree on what the land should look like. Skystar insisted the earth should reach to the clouds, honoring him as the emperor of the sky, whose very will determines the weather that brings sun and rain. On the other paw, Seastar demanded land where the water cuts through the earth, as the rivers bring greater prosperity than rain ever could, and even the sun would not be as loved as the freshwater that rivers bring.

Begrudgingly, they split the land's ownership in half, building their parts of it to suit their own visions. Yet when all was said and done, the brothers felt little satisfaction from their work. What was the point of any of this, if there were no mortals to revel in its splendor? That was when each god chose a champion to rule over their side of the territory that they sculpted. These champions embodied their gods' conflicting ideals, and from the very beginning, it was clear that the foundation they built would eventually lead to strife. 

"Go forth and breathe life into the lands we have crafted. With each first full moon of the season, return to the place of where we found you, with your kin at your side, so we may bear witness to the legacy you build," the gods told them, to which they obeyed. Something about the champions naturally drew cats to them, and it wasn't long until they both amassed their own followings.

Initially, the two groups co-existed, though any alliance they might've had was shaky at best. With their numbers not nearly reaching the amount that the clans have now, there was little reason to fight over land and prey. These groups grew gradually over the years as kits were born into them; among the new generation were the children of the founders, who were just as beloved as their parents. The founders declared that it would be their oldest kit who would someday take their place— it was their divine right, just as they themselves had been chosen by the gods.

One day, the founders' children argued at the border where their lands met. The disagreement escalated into a vicious fight, and though both returned home alive, they suffered grave wounds that soon became infected. Within days, both succumbed to their injuries. 

Each side blamed the other for their child's death, destroying the fragile peace they lived in over the years.

The grief-stricken founders, unable to bear the loss of their children, turned their anger against one another. At the full moon gathering that same season, accusations escalated uncontrollably. Grief transformed into a seething rage, and they lunged at each other in an instant. Some say they sought vengeance for their children, while others believe the gods whispered in their ears, urging them to strike.

The sacred gathering place became a battlefield. Blood soaked the ground, and the pools that once reflected the sky and stars ran red. Cats on both sides were lost that day—friends, lovers, parents, and siblings. From then on, every battle brought more bloodshed and more loss.

Over time, these groups turned into the clans we know of today. As years passed, the chaos of the past gave way to order. They created roles and rules that suited their way of life. They chose names that reflected the lands shaped by their gods and those who live within them.

And thus, is how Cliffclan and Oceanclan came to be.

Adderstar & The Origin of Oracles

The story of how oracles and attendants came to be is known by just about every cat in the clans, often taught to them while still young by the elders and guardians.

When the clans were still young, death was common— more common than what it is today —and knowledge of healing was limited to the most basic ailments. Something like a cold easily become fatal, and the clans could do little about it.

During leafbare, a plague took hold of the clans. It was a sickness unlike the clans had known before and left only death in its wake. Those infected suffered from a high fever, their bodies weakened and heavy with fatigue. When it worsened, their breathing became labored, with blood dripping from their noses and mouths as they coughed. Back then, it had no name, but nowadays, it is called red cough. The sickness moved swiftly until about half the clans’ populations died.

Some cats fled with their families, while others waited anxiously for what seemed to be the end of the clans. The monarchs prayed for their clan’s salvation, but their pleas went unanswered, or so it seemed.

One day, a strange cat named Adder appeared to the clans. He claimed to have a connection with the gods, healing knowledge, and the ability to save them from their plight, something he was willing to do for nothing in return. Bold statements from a cat with nothing to back them up, but desperation outweighed hesitance, and the clans accepted his help.

Adder treated the infected and found ways to slow the spread. Most recovered, and eventually, the plague ended, saving the clans from what would’ve been extinction. Yet such a calamity might easily happen again.

After the last cat had been healed, Adder started having visions and dreams. Who knows what exactly he experienced during them? But whatever it was, it led him to one conclusion: Cloudsong of Cliffclan and Ashflare of Oceanclan were destined to become healers and, more than that, the clans’ bridges to the stars. Adder took them under his wing and passed on all that he knew. His trainees became the first oracles, who would teach the next generation of healers, and so on. After the creation of these sacred roles, the clans became stronger, larger in numbers and all the more ready to throw themselves into danger for the sake of their clan.

Both clans offered Adder a place among them, but Adder disappeared once he shared everything he had to offer. His presence in visions over the following seasons would end the mystery of his fate: Adder’s achievements as a mortal earned him a place among the gods, and to this day, he is regarded as Adderstar, the god of medicine and healing.

Oceanblood Massacre

A tale of betrayal and bloodshed; a story that could perhaps be shrugged off as a myth, that is, if one of the killers involved weren't still living in Oceanclan today.

Some may claim to have been able to sense a darkness lurking within Howlingsea long before the massacre, but the truth is that no cat had been able to guess the lengths she would go to for leadership. After all, it is an unfathomable thought, isn't it? To slaughter not only your father and brother, but kits as well?

When Howlingkit was born, she was not meant for the throne. It was a birthright that belonged to her older brother, Hawk-kit. Howlingkit didn't seemed to mind this fact. Not at first, anyways. She and her brother were close, and often spent time basking in the warm presence of their father, the king, Ripplingsea. Hawk-kit was a perfect heir, loud and proud, contrasting his sister who was more quiet and reserved. 

Both siblings grew into remarkable warriors. Hawk-kit became Hawkstorm, who inherited his father's kind heart, while his sister became Howlingwind. Howlingwind created a name for herself outside of her familial connections. Her prowess in war was unmatched by most of Oceanclan's warriors, and frequently she would return home from battles and skirmishes with her white coat stained red, but rarely was the blood her own.

But Howlingwind, as good at battle as she might've been, was only one cat. As Oceanclan struggled through a string of losses, much of the blame was pinned on Ripplingsea. It was no secret that Ripplingsea hated sending his cats out to fight, and the more Oceanclan lost, the more he hesitated calling for war at all. Howlingwind, however, began to grow restless. She observed her father's reluctance, and the more she watched, the more she became certain of one thing: Ripplingsea's weakness was a threat to her clan's survival. 

Howlingwind frequently took walks with a tom named Tidewrath, a childhood friend of hers, and a cat once rumored to have been something more than that to her. It is believed that it was during these walks where her worries turned into a decision, and then a plan. Howlingwind became determined to take the throne, and she would do whatever it took to achieve it.

It all happened in a single night. Howlingwind killed the king, over and over until she was sure he wouldn't rise again. Then with Tidewrath's help, she ambushed Hawkstorm and killed him too. But there were even more obstacles— Hawkstorm had kits. Children who were only a little older than Howlingwind's own litter. She carefully cleansed herself of their blood and then went home to finish the job. 

Once she stepped inside the nursery, Howlingwind ordered that all parents and kits leave the den, for what she had to say was only for Hawkstorm's mate, and she would not accept anything but the privacy of the nursery. That was when Tidewrath slinked in from behind her and lunged at the mother. He pressed a firm paw over her mouth, muffling her voice. The kits were helpless, frozen with fear and confusion as Howlingwind, a cat they've shared a den with for most of their lives, turned her cold gaze onto them. 

Within seconds, the kits lay dead, their lives ended before it even begun. Cats rushed into the den when they had smelled the blood, their confusion turning to horror as they took in the sight. Howlingwind was pulled into the center of camp, and was soon surrounded by warriors calling for her execution. They called for their king, the heir— but they were dead, and they soon discovered this as well. Which meant only one thing: Howlingwind was the only one left to take over the throne. A fact that most cats refused to accept, bloodline be damned. 

Amidst the chaos, one voice cut through the rest. It was Blackfrost, the oracle, who declared that Howlingwind's fate was something that should be left up to the gods. He guided her to the moonstone that same day, and when he returned to the camp, she was still at his side. Howlingwind wasn't struck down like many hoped for. Instead, she returned to them, not as a warrior, but as their queen. No longer Howlingwind, but Howlingsea. Tidewrath, who was being held captive, was freed and appointed the new overseer. 

As a queen, Howlingsea did not seek love or admiration— above all else, she sought power for her clan. Word spread at the next gathering, the horrors of what she had done likely shared by those who despised her, but although she cared little for what Cliffclan thought of her, she knew she must prepare her clan to inevitably face them in battle once more.

She quickly reformed the training regimen for Oceanclan's youth, demanding that more focus needs to be placed in not only making sure the next generation of warriors knows how to fight, but to survive as well. Those who questioned her leadership were given an ultimatum: accept the gods' decision to crown her, or leave the clan. She made it clear that she expected loyalty, not through words, but actions. And while the clan might've feared her, they could not deny results. Oceanclan's strength grew. They won most of their battles and had a steady claim over the borderlands. Yet even as she established her power over the clan, whispers of her crimes would always follow her, with some wondering if there would ever be a cost for the blood that secured her leadership. 

And perhaps there was. 

Just like when she was a warrior, Howlingsea faced challenges head-on. She often took charge in battles, leading her warriors from the front and fearlessly putting herself in danger. This approach came at a cost, as she lost a life multiple times each year of her reign.

There were those that believed that her death was her punishment: to rule through pain and suffering. No death was easy, none painless, and few were quick. The queen paid no mind to rumors and led with unwavering strength. 

Howlingsea's ninth death came upon her slowly. The wounds she had gained from a fierce border dispute that her clan won began to fester, and infection set in with brutal swiftness. Even as her strength faded and her body began to falter, death felt distant, hovering just out of reach. Instead, she found herself stuck in a painful struggle, caught between her body's desperate attempt to sustain her life and the unavoidable reality that death awaited her.

Howlingsea refused treatment, accepting the gods' fate for her, as though knowing any herbs used on her would be a worthless effort. Her death marked the end of her reign, but the bloody legacy she left behind would be remembered for generations to come.