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PolyClan

About:

PolyClan is a large polyamorous group started by Ivoryburn. It gets it's Clan name as a joke due to its size, and is not an actual Clan. Ivoryburn is affectionately nicknamed "Ivorystar," though she is also not an actual leader.

Members:

--Alabiowing (F)

--Applecreek (TM)

--Bluerain (M)

--Chukarvole (F)

--Doverose (M)

--Dustwither (TM)

--Fishoat (F/M)

--Houndroot (M)

--Ivoryburn (F)

--Mothbloom (M)

--Opposumspine (F)

--Raggedrunner (M)

--Ravencall (TM)

--Scorchbeetle (M)

--Shrikeface (M)

--Snakefern (F)

--Sparrowfall (F)

Each members' mates / relationships are listed under the cut

Dark Forest Resident: Shiverrose

Aliases / Nicknames: ??

Gender: she-cat

Sexuality: homosexual

Family: unnamed mother, unnamed father

Other Relations: unnamed mentor

Clan: Windclan

Rank: medicine cat

Characteristics: kills pure-blooded warriors to prevent future discrimination

Number of Victims: 4

Number of Murders: 4

Murder Method: poisoning

Known Victims: unnamed warriors and elders

Cause of Death: face bashed into the Moonstone, killed by Kiteburn

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story:

It took time to become clear to her, but once she received her full name, Shiverrose could no longer ignore the harsh truth.

The Clans, in spite of years of growth, were still discriminatory toward those of ‘impure’ blood. Time and time again, cats, simple and legendry, had proven that blood does not make a warrior, and time and time again they were ignored or forgotten.

It wasn’t until she came to terms with it did she realize that, in a way, she always knew. She was made to stay away from her best friend, Greykit, because he was Half-Clan. She watched as he and his loner father were shunned, saw how no matter how hard they proved themself, there were still those that believed they were a plague on Windclan.

But apparently, even having a bad limp, she wasn’t?

It was infuriating.

Greyheart’s death had nothing to do with her, or anyone for that matter, a simple hunting accident. But her grief along with the rage from whispers claiming if he were Clan-born he would not have failed a hunt was enough to push her to murder.

After all, a Clan cannot shun those who are not Clan-born if no one left in it is Clan-born.

She wondered how she would do it. Slit their throat? Bash their skull in? It was all too obvious, not to mention the blood..

Oh, how silly she was! She was a medicine cat! Their lives were already in her paws. She just had to do the opposite of saving them.

She started with a burst of sickness, which may or may not have been caused by poisoning the fresh-kill pile. It wouldn’t kill them, but would ensure that plenty of warriors would need her attention.

Anyway, it was perfect. Instead of waiting moons for every Clan-Clan warrior to come by and having them all die, she would kill them all at once! Then it would be believable, a bad sickness that took many lives. Sad, but it had happened before.

Well, not all at once. But all while they were still sick, and it wasn’t like they were going to get better soon. Not with her giving them their medicine. The only one who did get better was Stoatpaw. He was young enough to learn better ways, and besides, she didn’t have the heart to kill someone so young.

A few deaths there, a few deaths here. She would have missed the Half-moon meeting, with so many warriors to care for, after all--even including Kiteburn, who hadn’t been poisoned--but the leader was so distraught, and asked her to go seek Starclan’s advice.

She did, going extra early this time to avoid talking with the other medicine cats. If the leader asked her if she asked them for help, and she lied, and he later asked them and found out that she had lied, what then?

She sighed in relief when she arrived, and no one was around. She was about place her nose to the stone when a shadow appeared.

Additional Information:

--Changed it from Moonpool to Moonstone because I really like the idea of Shiverrose having shards of glowing rocks in her face.

--Funnily enough, she likely would have killed Kiteburn if he hadn’t killed her first. He also inadvertently saved his Clanmates.

Dark Forest Resident: Shrikeface

Aliases / Nicknames: Bird brain, The Impaler, The Shriken Warrior, One With The Birds, Bird of A Feather, Kit-killer

Gender: tom

Sexuality: demisexual-pansexual

Family: unnamed mother, unnamed father, many unnamed brothers and sisters

Other Relations: Rockfur (mentor)

Clan: Thunderclan

Rank: warrior

Characteristics: kills to protect a shrike, kills to observe impalement

Number of Victims: 8

Number of Murders: 8

Murder Method: impaling on thorns

Known Victims: Tawnysand, several unnamed warriors and apprentices, four kits

Cause of Death: impaled through throat

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story:

His name would come to fit him quite well, but before then, he was a kit named Shrikekit. He was the runt in a litter of five, with many litters before and after him.

Shrikekit, as well as his brothers and sisters, felt the need to be the one their mother saw most, the one she was proudest of instead of the one she simply knew and loved and that was that.

They received enough attention as kits, especially him with his skinny frame, but that soon dissipated as they began their training while their mother returned to the nursery with new kits ready to pop.

She barely even paid enough attention at Shrikepaw’s naming ceremony, having-- or probably wanting-- to hurry back to feed her new kits.

But Shrikeface didn’t care as much as he had before, for during his training, he and his mentor had a long talk about his mother’s absence. Rockfur had told him not to align his future with what his mother would want, and to instead find what makes him happy.

He found something that did just that, but he knew enough to keep it secret. When he caught prey, he didn’t crunch down to snap the spine. Instead, he would find a sharp thorn, rock, or stick to impale the animal on.

He had got the idea when he and Rockfur were stalking a shrike that was doing just that. Rockfur had told him that if they wait, the bird would kill the mouse for them, then they can kill the bird and bring back both.

Shrikeface had instantly become fascinated with such a method. Instead of pecking it or using talons like most predatory birds, it used something else entirely. It was brilliant! It didn’t let it’s lack of sharp talons or big size stop itself from eating, it adapted!

He would sneak out often (or just leave camp when he became a warrior) to watch more shrikes as they impaled their prey. It wasn’t just to kill them, either. A mother had easy access to grab some meat, give it to her chick, and grab some more without having to move too far to get more food or give her chicks too much.

Again, brilliant!

Shrikeface began to feel a kinship with them. He became nearly as protective over the chicks as a warrior should be for their Clan’s kits.

So when Tawnysand had arrived to camp with a mouthful of the little ones, Shrikeface had attacked him then and there. He was contained to camp for the next couple of days, unable to stop it as Tawnysand told the warriors where the rest of the shrikes were nesting.

Shrikeface had been furious, and more than that, he had been lonely.

He returned many times to the area, hoping one would come back or turn up alive, but the only one he found was Tawnysand smiling wickedly. The older tom mocked him, poking fun at Shrikeface for being friendly with birds.

He began moving closer, asking if Shrikeface wants to fly away above the clouds. Maybe he wants to squawk about on the trees?

Then a shrike flew down onto the bushes behind them.

Tawnysand should have been smarter than to stalk it, slow and carefully and tauntingly. Shrikeface had grabbed him by the scruff and slammed him against a thorn bush. The thorns were long, sharp, and in plenty enough numbers to stop Tawnysand in his tracks.

Shrikeface didn’t even stop to stare at what he had done. Instantly, he whirled around to check on the bird, sighing in relief as he saw it fly away.

Then he looked. Tawnysand was dead, that was undoubtably true. Shrikeface studied him, the way thorns pierced differently in different areas, how blood flowed more around the neck and hind legs. Amazing!

He began doing it more and more, moving away from prey and onto his Clanmates. It was difficult to get away with it. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the warriors started getting suspicious, and in addition, with all the peculiar deaths that were likely murders, cats were becoming less fond of the idea of leaving camp on their own.

He had to leave it on a bang.

All along, there had been a nagging thought at the back of his mind. He knew what warriors and even apprentices and prey looked like impaled, the way their blood flowed differently and their skin shifted and their fur parted around the thorn, but what about something between? Something feline, but small enough to be like prey?

It wasn’t hard to get the kits out of the camp. They were still so young, eyes barely open. He carried them gently. He didn’t want to accidently killed them before the best part. Besides, his mother would just have new kits.

He did it slowly, making it last for as long as possible. Just as he finished, he felt something slam into the back of his head and shove his throat forward, directly into the thorns.

Additional Information:

--He looks like a shrike.

--I initially thought it should be his mother who killed him, but I think it’s more interesting if it was a warrior from another Clan entirely. Just walking about when you see some guy murdering children.

Dark Forest Resident: Kiteburn

Aliases / Nicknames: Starclan-hater

Gender: tom

Sexuality: heterosexual

Family: unnamed mother, unnamed father, unnamed sister

Other Relations: unnamed mentor

Clan: Windclan

Rank: warrior

Characteristics: kills to prove a point, kills those that annoy him

Number of Victims: 2

Number of Murders: 2

Murder Method: slitting throats, bashing heads into rock

Known Victims: Stonefoot, Shiverrose

Cause of Death: feline leukemia virus

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story:

It was irritating. All his life, his opinion never mattered. The only thing anyone ever seemed to care about was Starclan.

Don’t talk back to your elders! What would Starclan think?

Listen to your mentor, or what would Starclan think?

They even put it in the code to thank Starclan! If they were so great, what did they think the amazing Starclan would do? That their brilliant, kind ancestors would punish them for failing to say ‘thank you’ after catching some random mouse?

His feeling of injustice increased when, refusing to thank Starclan, he was punished and made to take care of the elders in the hopes that the older cats could talk some sense into him.

That, they certainly tried. Complaining about today’s youth and all. Nothing that actually changed Kitepaw’s opinion. In fact, it greatly hardened them.

For refusing to thank some random ancestors he never even met, he was forced to stop all hunting and fighting, things actual useful for the Clan to know, for an entire day.

And what of his opinion? No one bothered to hear him out, to even ask why he felt such a way.

Brainless ants, the lot of them! Mindlessly following the laws created generations ago, believing that some dead cats could control anything that happened in the Clans if they didn’t like what someone was doing!

If that was the case, wouldn’t all the stories of Tigerstar, Scourge, Sparktail, and who knows how many others, wouldn’t exist? Starclan demands thanks for all they do, and in return they allow murderers and killers to roam free, doing no more than to give a vague warning only helpful when the warriors are at the brink of irreversible damage?

They couldn’t stop him from being diagnosed with Pale-sickness, that was for sure. Laying in the medicine den with an elder, Stonefoot, it was hinted to him that maybe, just maybe, he would be perfectly healthy if had never bad-mouthed Starclan as an apprentice.

Was he joking? Bad-mouthing a sick and dying Clanmate, blaming them for their death?

At least that was the good thing about dying, wasn’t it? There was no such thing as consequences.

He killed Stonefoot to begin. He wasn’t going to initially, but the old bat had dug his own grave. He slit the elder’s throat after the medicine cat left for the Half-moon meeting, then hurried after.

Shiverrose made sure to be early due to her limp that often slowed her down. Lucky for Kiteburn, she was quick enough to ensure that they would be alone long enough to get the job done.

Afterall, if Starclan is so powerful, surely they can prevent the death of a devoting medicine cat right at their most sacred spot?

Ha.

He wasn’t surprised when they failed. He padded away, seeing the other medicine cats arrive in the distance, off to a field of heathers and gorse, where he happily laid to die.

Additional Information:

--Pale--sickness is FelV disease, and is called so due to paling gums and whitening eyes, both of which Kiteburn had as symptoms.

--Shiverrose was actually a killer too, and likely thought it was a revenge killing until Kiteburn told her “nah I just wanted to prove a point.” To which she would respond, “oh damn, me too.”