Post by Tonners on Jun 23, 2010 22:41:44 GMT -5
Calling Hardy and Rixy (and whoever wants to add their idea? 
), here we go on ole Noname's history, lol.
Thanks to Rixy, I have a run down on her personality.
She is sassy, crafty, adventurous, likes shiny things and is a packrat; she is greedy, and rather sarcastic but mostly good natured. She'll be mysterious if she can, enjoys coloring on the outside of the line (so to speak, but I mean, we all know the beautiful designs cats can draw with crayons...), and is independent. Not at all the romantic, she'll lead a tom on if she can get something out of it, and she's not afraid to get dirty. She'll verbally bluff, spar and confuse if she can, but she's not afraid to fight, and she does not care about other clans' wellfare in the slightest. She likes a bit of drama, and doesn't care for cats that are serious. She'll do something if there is something in it for her, unless you keep annoying her (to which point, "something in it for her" means some peace and quiet, lol)... Basically.
Starting the idea-launcher, we have a kittypet parent, and a loner parent, wanting to cross it over to Ember's history:
Last idea run?
"So if the kittypet's owner in Salt Lake City's kitty made cupcakes with a loner kitty that lived on the harbor, and so the kittens got sold to merchants to keep the rats, etc. in check...?"
), here we go on ole Noname's history, lol.Thanks to Rixy, I have a run down on her personality.
She is sassy, crafty, adventurous, likes shiny things and is a packrat; she is greedy, and rather sarcastic but mostly good natured. She'll be mysterious if she can, enjoys coloring on the outside of the line (so to speak, but I mean, we all know the beautiful designs cats can draw with crayons...), and is independent. Not at all the romantic, she'll lead a tom on if she can get something out of it, and she's not afraid to get dirty. She'll verbally bluff, spar and confuse if she can, but she's not afraid to fight, and she does not care about other clans' wellfare in the slightest. She likes a bit of drama, and doesn't care for cats that are serious. She'll do something if there is something in it for her, unless you keep annoying her (to which point, "something in it for her" means some peace and quiet, lol)... Basically.
Starting the idea-launcher, we have a kittypet parent, and a loner parent, wanting to cross it over to Ember's history:
Her birth-clan was based along the Great Salt Lake in Utah, though had no real name to the felines. Man was there but avoided; some cats were feral, others, tame. Many two-legs had captured some of the felines, and even somewhat tamed a few - such as her clan leader at the time - and so, some smaller clans lived among the boats. Her clan had been one, catching the large rats that stole upon the fishing and merchant boats. Indeed, it was a large community, a sort of inland-ocean like harbor area, to the cats. There were gangs of humans and dogs just as there were cats; it was not a place to be a girly feline, afraid to get muddy or into a fight. She and her clan mates had the routine when they went to shore, as their human-leader was careful to maintain the same time from dock to dock. He'd fish closer to, and in, the northwestern parts, and traveled to the southern docks to sell everything they could catch. Why, Ember never know, nor cared.
Her mother had been tamed; her father had not. Their family was not close, although she and Spottedheart had stayed by her father's side as soon as their mother allowed it, when they could walk properly. Her youngest sister stayed with her mother; her brother came and went. Periodically, she saw her other siblings from her parents' previous litter, Pigeonfur, and Blackfur. Both were on different ships; both were toms, and though she regarded Pigeonfur with politeness, she did what she could to see Blackfur. She was fond of her sweet-tempered brother, a gentleman of their kind, for the area. She was an aunt! But his mate would not allow her to see her neices and nephew, for fear of taking them to her own ship.
For the clan cats, each clan seemed to have their own tests, usually to the whim of the leader, but most were the same, especially on the idea that the would-be new members were at the bottom of the food chain. The first moon was a trial; every moment had to be guarded, every possession, even every duty. The worse of the felines would shirk the duties they hated until a feline on trial came, and then every moment was a chance to make someone else pay for their own low-rank. The felines on trial were picked on, stolen from, unless the cat was lucky. Her parents' ship had been good natured, and theirs had been, too, if not a little less gentle. But in their world, if your share wasn't eaten, it was stolen; outcasts were murdered more often than leaders, or disposed of one way or another, picked on, and fought. There were one or two more brutal that chose to mark their own; some others had too much heart, and half their clan was too weak for the lives they lead. Some could get by this way, for a while, until a fight broke out because of pride or a show of dominance or power.
If an outcast was looked on favorably, they were sometimes stolen when the ship went to the docks. If it was a strong female, the chances were greater. Some groups periodically had leaders that killed the females birthed, and abducted others, to avoid inbreeding, to display power, and create terror and fear. Others, like her gift-clan, did things more respectively, as long as the leader was well admired. But even that clan had limits, and of she-cats, it had too many. It didn't matter where a she-cat went, tom cats claimed that females were for birthing and tending to the kits and toms' wounds, not fighting. Strong to give birth and survive in battle enough to see to the real heros, not to fight. Even still, it was not always so. Emberstripe's parents, half their clan, and almost the whole of her gift-clan had been good natured and decent at heart.
When a litter aboard a ship was born, the rightful tradition was to find new homes for each of the kittens aboard a different ship. The older a cat, the harder it was to become initiated, let alone be allowed to board. There were several clans, and more; some went unseen, most of the time. Even so, they had their own scents, just as much as any land-cat's border, they knew one another for what they were, and it said about who they were, individually. Naturally, they each chose where to take a kitten, once it was weaned, based on its apparent personality, although a few clans went by looks. Emberstripe's parents had been allowed to choose, instead of the leader, and so they had selected two of their own to go to another ship. Emberkit, back then, had been furious when they had not allowed her to go to the same ship as her elder brother, Blackfur; he had been her favorite of her siblings, and had always asked her to help him when he visited.
Aboard some vessels, family ties were typically welcome, so long as they did not get in the way or use the clan's shares. Her family had been among the usual crew, keeping guard for intruders, hunting bilgerats, and some of them even tended to the humans, despite not allowing themselves to be touched. Day in and day out, the two legs stopped being such a mystery, and had their usual things and sounds for their personal belongings that some cats, who cared, came to recognize. Her leader was such a cat, to an extent, and even slept in the captain's quarters.
During the first moon kit is brought on board, at the age of land-clan's apprentices, they are given two mentors, if the cats can be spared. They have one moon to teach them as much as possible; hunting, fighting. It is hard, stressful, and exhausting, even for shipboard kits. Bigpaw and Emberpaw were not permitted to speak to one another except for when they were allowed to eat, or when the sun had long disappeared from the sky. Bigpaw was the larger of the two, but he did not have the fire that Emberpaw had. All too often, Emberpaw stuck up for him, and comforted him at night when they slept, when she could, and they were not on guard duty. He was a quiet sort, with as much pride as she, but was more cautious and undecisive.
She had been a gift to her human sailor, and yet a kittypet she was not. Ember had only allowed him to touch her once after she was set upon the deck with her brother, Bigpaw. The clan had proceeded to put up with them for a moon before the initiation ceremony. She had been accepted; her brother had not, and was left on the dock at the next trip, scared, and alone. She was female, they needed she-cats; she was bold, if not a little reckless, and goodnatured despite her tomboy muzzle. But, brash was the only word most toms knew; the she-cats onboard were outnumbered five to one, and all kept their mouths shut unless a tom raised a paw to a kit, save two of them. One was missing an eye, and was a foul-mouthed, filfthy, cranky brod, and the other seemed to go wherever she went, a quieter version of Emberstripe herself. But Bigpaw had been picked on, and had let her stick up for him; he had been challenged, and had not challenged back. He was a tom, and too hesitant; their clanmates had to have loyalty ties stronger than anything, but he did not have them.
Ember was not allowed to leave the ship for several moons, as was tradition, also, and when she finally got word from her parents, her brother had been killed by another cat. Her sister Littlepaw had suffered a similar fate, but had been instead given to a rather unsteady cat crew aboard a smaller vessel, and had been pitched off the side by a young male warrior. Their parents had had a different leader, and had chose the clan for her in hopes of sporting some sort of respectful deal, but much of it had failed, and the cat had died. Spottedheart, her other sister, had survived on a third ship, more similar to her own, and made a name for herself after replacing the ship's deputy. It was a harsh life, and no word of Starclan had existed. Survive, or die trying.
Her mother had been tamed; her father had not. Their family was not close, although she and Spottedheart had stayed by her father's side as soon as their mother allowed it, when they could walk properly. Her youngest sister stayed with her mother; her brother came and went. Periodically, she saw her other siblings from her parents' previous litter, Pigeonfur, and Blackfur. Both were on different ships; both were toms, and though she regarded Pigeonfur with politeness, she did what she could to see Blackfur. She was fond of her sweet-tempered brother, a gentleman of their kind, for the area. She was an aunt! But his mate would not allow her to see her neices and nephew, for fear of taking them to her own ship.
For the clan cats, each clan seemed to have their own tests, usually to the whim of the leader, but most were the same, especially on the idea that the would-be new members were at the bottom of the food chain. The first moon was a trial; every moment had to be guarded, every possession, even every duty. The worse of the felines would shirk the duties they hated until a feline on trial came, and then every moment was a chance to make someone else pay for their own low-rank. The felines on trial were picked on, stolen from, unless the cat was lucky. Her parents' ship had been good natured, and theirs had been, too, if not a little less gentle. But in their world, if your share wasn't eaten, it was stolen; outcasts were murdered more often than leaders, or disposed of one way or another, picked on, and fought. There were one or two more brutal that chose to mark their own; some others had too much heart, and half their clan was too weak for the lives they lead. Some could get by this way, for a while, until a fight broke out because of pride or a show of dominance or power.
If an outcast was looked on favorably, they were sometimes stolen when the ship went to the docks. If it was a strong female, the chances were greater. Some groups periodically had leaders that killed the females birthed, and abducted others, to avoid inbreeding, to display power, and create terror and fear. Others, like her gift-clan, did things more respectively, as long as the leader was well admired. But even that clan had limits, and of she-cats, it had too many. It didn't matter where a she-cat went, tom cats claimed that females were for birthing and tending to the kits and toms' wounds, not fighting. Strong to give birth and survive in battle enough to see to the real heros, not to fight. Even still, it was not always so. Emberstripe's parents, half their clan, and almost the whole of her gift-clan had been good natured and decent at heart.
When a litter aboard a ship was born, the rightful tradition was to find new homes for each of the kittens aboard a different ship. The older a cat, the harder it was to become initiated, let alone be allowed to board. There were several clans, and more; some went unseen, most of the time. Even so, they had their own scents, just as much as any land-cat's border, they knew one another for what they were, and it said about who they were, individually. Naturally, they each chose where to take a kitten, once it was weaned, based on its apparent personality, although a few clans went by looks. Emberstripe's parents had been allowed to choose, instead of the leader, and so they had selected two of their own to go to another ship. Emberkit, back then, had been furious when they had not allowed her to go to the same ship as her elder brother, Blackfur; he had been her favorite of her siblings, and had always asked her to help him when he visited.
Aboard some vessels, family ties were typically welcome, so long as they did not get in the way or use the clan's shares. Her family had been among the usual crew, keeping guard for intruders, hunting bilgerats, and some of them even tended to the humans, despite not allowing themselves to be touched. Day in and day out, the two legs stopped being such a mystery, and had their usual things and sounds for their personal belongings that some cats, who cared, came to recognize. Her leader was such a cat, to an extent, and even slept in the captain's quarters.
During the first moon kit is brought on board, at the age of land-clan's apprentices, they are given two mentors, if the cats can be spared. They have one moon to teach them as much as possible; hunting, fighting. It is hard, stressful, and exhausting, even for shipboard kits. Bigpaw and Emberpaw were not permitted to speak to one another except for when they were allowed to eat, or when the sun had long disappeared from the sky. Bigpaw was the larger of the two, but he did not have the fire that Emberpaw had. All too often, Emberpaw stuck up for him, and comforted him at night when they slept, when she could, and they were not on guard duty. He was a quiet sort, with as much pride as she, but was more cautious and undecisive.
She had been a gift to her human sailor, and yet a kittypet she was not. Ember had only allowed him to touch her once after she was set upon the deck with her brother, Bigpaw. The clan had proceeded to put up with them for a moon before the initiation ceremony. She had been accepted; her brother had not, and was left on the dock at the next trip, scared, and alone. She was female, they needed she-cats; she was bold, if not a little reckless, and goodnatured despite her tomboy muzzle. But, brash was the only word most toms knew; the she-cats onboard were outnumbered five to one, and all kept their mouths shut unless a tom raised a paw to a kit, save two of them. One was missing an eye, and was a foul-mouthed, filfthy, cranky brod, and the other seemed to go wherever she went, a quieter version of Emberstripe herself. But Bigpaw had been picked on, and had let her stick up for him; he had been challenged, and had not challenged back. He was a tom, and too hesitant; their clanmates had to have loyalty ties stronger than anything, but he did not have them.
Ember was not allowed to leave the ship for several moons, as was tradition, also, and when she finally got word from her parents, her brother had been killed by another cat. Her sister Littlepaw had suffered a similar fate, but had been instead given to a rather unsteady cat crew aboard a smaller vessel, and had been pitched off the side by a young male warrior. Their parents had had a different leader, and had chose the clan for her in hopes of sporting some sort of respectful deal, but much of it had failed, and the cat had died. Spottedheart, her other sister, had survived on a third ship, more similar to her own, and made a name for herself after replacing the ship's deputy. It was a harsh life, and no word of Starclan had existed. Survive, or die trying.
Last idea run?
"So if the kittypet's owner in Salt Lake City's kitty made cupcakes with a loner kitty that lived on the harbor, and so the kittens got sold to merchants to keep the rats, etc. in check...?"
We have a cbox again and we're opening the place up as a closed, members only rp