The Clan Renaissance

An Alternate Universe Warriors Roleplay

With eyes of amber flame, a heart of blackened ice, and a smile of charming warmth, Osprey provides a strange mix of sensations. A larger feline with well-built muscles from moons of hunting and fighting for herself, her very step ripples with strength and confidence. Her fur is slightly longer than average, dense yet surprisingly soft and well-groomed, with the exception of her full, feathered tail. With a base of russet brown to hide within, her stripes are a deep black, mingling with the reddish hue upon her back and tail, before following it in more defined stripes as it fades to a more greyish brown hue. Set within the deep black and pale brown of the fur upon her face are two vivid, flame-bright amber eyes, with a light that attracts like a moth to a flame.





On the surface, Osprey is a confident, charming she-cat. From the way she holds herself to the conviction with which she carries out her words and actions, there is something about her that many seem to gravitate toward. She is strong-willed and determined, without being rash and narrow-minded. Everything she does seems to be done with absolute purpose and singular intent, and yet so thought through at the same time. Beneath this charming, inspiring exterior, however, hides a darker truth. Much of her ability to think strategically and carry out a plan without fretting over the chance of it going awry, is that she simply does not care. There is a certain distance, an apathy within her that sets her apart from others. Feelings, to her, are trivial, and the cats around her are hardly more than a means to an end. She does not shy away from the pain and suffering of others - in fact, at times, she takes pride in it. She is manipulative and merciless in her pursuit of anything and everything she desires, her ruthless approach making it easy to proceed without concern. Though to others, this ruthlessness presents as calm and self-assurance. Perhaps, at times, a little too calm. It takes a certain kind of cat to remain always unflinching, and to those who notice this factor, she may seem more unnerving than she first appears.



Mother: Kestrel ~ status unknown
Father: Jacana ~ status unknown
Siblings: Three unamed kits ~ stillborn/deceased

Second: Mate ~ Adoptable ~ alive
Healer: Adoptable ~ alive



0 moons old
Kestrel gives birth to three kits, one is stillborn. She refuses to name the others, expecting none will survive.

1 moon old
A second kit loses their life, only one daughter remains.

2 moons old
By the second moon of Newleaf, Kestrel is confident her remaining kit will survive. She names her Osprey.

5-10 moons old
Osprey begins arduous training beneath Kestrel's guidance. This training lasts five moons.

10 moons old:
Osprey is chased out by her mother. She considers fighting but ultimately decides to leave.

11-30 moons old:
Osprey ventures on her own, learning new skills and tactics as she grows.

30 moons old:
Osprey meets a cat who begs for her help. She agrees and takes down the cat's leader. The group becomes her own in turn.

31-40 moons old:
Osprey becomes Stormbringer Osprey, calling her group The Conquerors. Together they travel and take over many territories.

41-44 moons old:
The group settles into a territory and stays put for three moons. Osprey grows restless.

44 moons old:
Tales reach the group of the ancient clans in a territory only days away. They agree to follow these rumors to their source.

45-46 moons old:
Osprey leads The Conquerors to this new land with intent to claim an area of forest and gather more information.

47 moons old:
Having reached the new land, Osprey finds an area of marshland that seems relatively untouched and settles her group there.




Far from the forest of fallen clans, born to a time of frost and desolation, Osprey was never meant to survive. Her littermates fell around her, weakened by the claws of cold and hunger. Even the queen who bore her struggled with an ice-borne sickness that wracked her body with coughs. And yet, despite all odds, the two survived, rising from these hard times as cold as the ice that surrounded them. Kestrel was far from a gentle soul, Osprey had found as her strength recovered from the bitter leafbare. Even as the air warmed and the world returned to life, there was an icy bitterness lodged within her mother's soul. A bitterness that chased away any hopes Osprey may have had to grow close to her dam. However, as distant as she was, Kestrel was practical. The stars had chosen this unwanted kit of hers to survive, and thus she would make it so.

To be trained beneath a mother's paw had always raised the expectation of a soft and sheltered result, guided by the teachings of someone too soft and nurturing to harden their kit to the cruelty of the world. For Osprey, this was far from the truth. Her mother had ever-rising expectations, her manner tough and unimpressed as she taught her young everything she knew. There was little Osprey could do that was enough to please her mother, and as she was trained to fight with no boundary between tooth and claw, or left with an evening of hunger as her mother ate whenever she failed to catch a morsel for herself, she learned that the world was cold and unforgiving even once the ice had thawed.

At ten moons, nearly having reached her full potential, Kestrel turned upon her daughter with claws raised and teeth bared. She had never intended to be a mother, and now her duty was done. It was time for Osprey to go. While Osprey had known that with effort she could overpower her mother, she had also inherited Kestrel's mind for strategy and practicality, bettered it even. She would have no way of treating the injuries she would undoubtedly receive, and while the idea of leaving her mother in such a situation was terribly inviting, practicality won, and she left. Her mother had been weak to emotion, she had realized, afraid of what her daughter might become.

Alone, Osprey learned that while the world was indeed a cruel, unfair place, many of the cats within it were not. In fact, seeing a younger cat fending for herself, many sought to help her. At first, Osprey wanted to hurt these fools, driven by curiosity and annoyance. Some of whom she did. However, as her strategic mind blossomed and her curiosity grew, she began to take a different approach. If these cats were so mouse-brained as to hamper their survival for the sake of another, she would take advantage of them. She would manipulate them to get what she wanted, to further her own survival, and leave them to suffer from their mistakes. A certain charm began to develop, a silver tongue and inviting disposition that masked a venomous snake ready to strike. This was how she would survive now, and she would gleefully fell anyone in her path.

Osprey had never truly intended to be part of a group, lacking the social nature of the many fools she met. She was content to fend for herself, using others along the way, earning their trust only to leave them behind. She was content, and yet at the same time she itched for something more, something she did not understand. It frustrated her. That was, until she met a new cat. This strange little molly was a desperate, pathetic thing. Scrawny and begging for the help of anyone that would listen. To Osprey, she was another opportunity. She could pretend to have the intent to help, take whatever she could get as payment, and watch this useless excuse for a cat suffer in her wake. However, what the cat pleaded for piqued her curiosity. She was part of one of these scattered groups, though with how needy she seemed Osprey supposed it made sense, but her situation was a unique one. He who lead their group was a cruel tyrant, surrounded by cats who were too afraid to do anything but obey him. He claimed to be a great mythical lion in the skin of a cat, invincible, with the power to strike down anyone who turned against him. The idiots at his paws believed it, and the whole ordeal made Osprey want to laugh and obliterate him all at once.

The Conqueror's Storm, this group would come to call her. In her curiosity, Osprey had agreed to help this meek scrap of fur, and upon the night of a great and terrifying storm, she struck down the leader and his fanciful lies. The Stormbringer, she who could defeat all who lay in her path. These cats truly were gullible, and quick to devout themselves to their savior, however, Osprey had no interest in carrying on the tom's lies. Instead, she took over this group as nothing more than a cunning, iron-willed cat. Even so, their whispers did not wane, and still, they hailed her above all else. It was invigorating.

With these cats, her Conquerors she called them, Osprey lay claim to the isolated land in which they lived. A strange mix of fear, respect, and aspiration followed each step of their paws. However, it was not enough. She needed more, her taste for power had grown too great. It was this thought that made her follow a tale she would never have heeded before, a hunger for greatness within her otherwise empty heart. Tales of clans long passed, that may one day rise again. Tales of leaders gifted great power by the stars above, eternal life they whispered. It seemed foolish, and Osprey did not truly believe it, yet still the thought intrigued her. Here was an opportunity, and one which she willingly traveled the lands to indulge in.