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[the-world-of-ignavus]

Empire Names: General - Appearances

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The most simplistic set of names and widely considered the safest for a nursing moggi, appearance based names are often handed out freely when a moggi is running low on ideas or they’re unsure if a cub will survive for very long, often considered to be a ‘fading name’ that could later be changed. The exception to this is often when a cub has a very noticeable or distinctive trait that a moggi wants acknowledged without quite as many clippings associated with their gods. Appearance based names earned later in life are on the completely opposite side of the border - considered to be Scar-Based Titles that immortalize a moggi’s fearlessness or bravery (often in times of great strife such as during a natural disaster) and grant them a gateway to early retirement as a veteran if so desired. The Shorerisen near exclusively use these names as honor based titles or for distinctive features, considering them ‘too plain’ for a cub. 

CURL(Y) - Coil, Curled, Tangle(d), Wool(y)

A name given to those with the unusual trait of curly or wavy furred, particularly assigned to those with medium-length fur with the specific name varying based on the intensity of the coils. Coil- and Wool(y)- both refer to the tightest curls often pressed directly into their coats, Tangle(d)- is usually for more wavy fur and of course, Curly- is for the loosest, gentlest curls.

DARK - No Alternatives

Generally any moggi with a dark coat from black, to gray to russet or deep brown without any of the godly associations held by the specific colors. 

DAPPLE(ED) - No alternatives

One of the many names for a tortoiseshell, this name specifically refers to the ginger or golden patches on their pelt giving a vague nod toward Azaazo as it’s taken from the term ‘sun-dappled.’

DOWN(Y) - Soft

A name primarily assigned to those with incredibly soft fur, often those with a lot of fur that also happens to be thin although it is also occasionally used as an insult towards outsiders that join the Empire.

DWARF - Little, Small, Tiny

A name primarily assigned to the runt of a litter, generally meaning ‘undersized.’ It is a common name within the Stormborn who often use it to invoke Piyothima, in the hopes that they will guide and protect their littlest cubs. 

FUZZ(Y) - No Alternatives

A name given primarily to long furred moggi, particularly those with double coats.

HALF - No Alternatives

A name primarily given to moggi with bicolor faces, particularly in torties though it has also been used to identify a standard bicolor moggi as well. There is a minor association of uncertain or fickle to this name. 

HEAVY - Dire

A name often given to the largest cub in a litter, generally meaning healthy or well-fed though when granted to a fully trained valorant, can alternatively mean muscular. Its alternative Dire- carries the association mighty or of great power. 

LONG - Tall

Usually referring to an overly large or apparent attribute in a cub, such as their ears or tail though occasionally it can be slapped on a cub referring to their fur length. A quietly disliked name within the Fennyield among caesars who complain that it’s hard to make a name with this prefix sound bold or terrifying. 

MASK(ED) - Veil(ed)

Typically given to cubs with differently colored fur around their eyes or just their heads, as if wearing a physical mask and can carry the connotation of impassive, cold or even tempered. The alternative variant, Veil(ed)- carries the meaning shy or slow to warm up.

MOTTLE(D) - Spot(ted)

A moggi covered in large patches of various colors and is thus, a common name for tortoiseshell and calicos. Spot(ted)- in particular tends to imply some form of regular pattern to the colors where Mottle(d)- is more patchy and blurred. 

PATCH(ED) - No Alternatives

A name referring to a moggi of primarily one color with larger, irregular patches of another breaking through, often assigned to bicolors in place of tortoiseshells. 

RAGGED - Jag(ged)

This name can alternatively refer to a sharp contrast in fur colors on a moggi - particularly on the face from the rest of the body - or the state of a physical body, in regard to heavy scarring. Caesars in the Shorerisen will often use -jag backhandly in suffixes to mean unkempt. 

SCAR(RED) - Scab(bed), Welt

A set of names near exclusively used as part of the Honor Titles that meaning visibly wounded, prominently scarred and honored valorant recognizing the effort and strife put into surviving. 

SPECKLE(D) - Freckle(d)

A moggi possessing a fine layer of  irregularly patterned spots across their coats with freckle(d)- specifying that the spots are on a cub’s face,and thus  is often used when the spots are exclusively on a moggi’s face.

STRIPE(D) - No Alternatives

A general name granted to any tabby-patterned moggi without any particular design, occasionally used as a head-nod to Master Fenn without specifically invoking the braided pattern of the god-kin.

STUB(BY) - Stump(y)

A scar title granted to those who have lost either part of a limb or an entire limb, often a moggi’s tail. Technically it can also be used to refer to cubs born with a stump, but the Empire widely considers it to be tacky given the cub did nothing more than be born that way and thus, did not earn the name.

SWIRL - Twist(ed)

A very simplistic name referring to a marble-coated moggi that carries the connotation of ‘shore-blood’ given their high density of marbled moggi. 

TORN - Frayed, Split

A name often referring to a moggi’s ears given how battle-hardened valorants often have fairly clawed up ears, though it can also be used to refer to the various large, scabbed over wounds particularly on the face.

TUFT - No Alternatives

A name primarily referencing longer fur on a cub’s ears, tail or hocks though it can also be used in a roundabout way of invoking Olympia, who was known for those features. 

[the-world-of-ignavus]

Empire Names: Elements - Fire, Heat and Light

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Fire is tied for Water in being the elements most commonly granted to cadets across the Empire with a heavier leaning in both the moggi of the Fennyield and the moggi of the Stormborn with an underlying aura of ‘intensity’ or ‘fear.’ The Galespun treat fire names with a special kind of reverence given how they are both necessary for the health of their territory but also the extremely high fatalities that come from not being able to escape a fire in time - or worse, running across a flock of fire-hawks while attempting to escape.  Most fire-based names typically carry the implied meaning of intense. 

ASH(EN) - No alternatives

Refers to a moggi that is gray furred, often with darker gray or black markings and particularly those that seem to be shaded or with darkened points. Both variants of the name carry the meaning survivor. 

BLAZE(ING) - No alternatives

Often assigned to any brightly colored moggi though there is an open preference for  being granted to ginger furred moggi - blazing- especially is granted to those with glimmering pelts. This name emphasizes the heart of a fire and thus carries the name passionate or determined. 

BLISTER(ING) - No alternatives

Near exclusively granted to ginger or russet furred moggi though it can technically also apply to anyone brightly colored, this name highlights the more terrifying aspects of the fire. -blister is usually given as a suffix and carries the meanings of dangerous fighter and intense while its prefix variant, blistering-carries the meanings of harsh and intense or aggressive.

BURN(ING) - Burnt

A name assigned to those who are dark-furred, usually gray or black but can also refer to darker shades of red or brown. Burning- is usually granted to those with red undertones carrying the meaning of energetic or passionate while its alternative Burnt- usually carried the implication of focused. 

CHAR(RED) - No alternatives

A name assigned to black or gray moggi of all shades, often with darker limbs as if burned in some way. This name carries the meaning of resilient or survivor referencing the remains of a forest that’s caught on fire. 

CINDER - No alternatives

A name assigned to a dark-gray or black cat, often with darker spots or markings across their bodies though low-orange tortoiseshells are included in this as well. This name typically carries the meaning of gentle or resolute referencing how cinders have been burned (not to ash), but can’t be ignited any further.

COAL - No alternatives

A name assigned to mostly or completely black moggi that usually carries the meaning of leader or innovative, referring to coal as a fuel source. It also carries the association of rarity. 

DAZZLE(ING) - No alternatives

Not connected to any particular color, this name is granted to any glossy coated or bright furred moggy. This name carries the meanings of a moggi who stands out or is charismatic, as if capable of blinding someone with charm. 

EMBER - No alternatives

A name assigned to a bright ginger or yellow moggi, though mostly black moggi with tiny or thin bands of ginger are another common recipient. This name carries the meanings of focused or quiet-willed, someone with a lot of inner strength. 

FADE(D) - Fading

A name granted to any lighter furred moggi but particularly dilutes or those with low-contrast patterns on their pelts. This name carries the meanings of stealthy or quiet but given its connection to the secondary founder of the Galespun, Fading Gale it also carries the meanings of martyr and caretaker. 

FAINT - Pale(ing)

A name granted to any light furred moggi, especially those who are cream, gold or light gray in color or that have low-contrasting patterns that carries the meanings of quiet or soft-spoken, typically given to moggi who are more about action over conversation. This name is near exclusively used as a prefix.

FIRE(Y) - No alternatives

A name primarily granted to a ginger moggi of any shade but particularly russet or rich chestnut ones meaning passionate or affectionate. Its alternative, Hearth is borrowed from the nearby Regency of the Shining Sun and carries the association of loving. 

FLAME(ING) - No alternatives

A name assigned to ginger moggi of all shades and patterns, carrying the meanings of brash,  outgoing and eager and is a common alternative to the name Fire- when a moggi is attempting to thematically name a litter. 

FLICKER(ING) - Flash(ing), Flare(d)

A brightly colored moggi, traditionally with splashes of white across their pelts. This name is granted to mean intelligent but also impatient or quick-to-act. The alternative Flare(d) can also carry the association of natural leader while Flash(ing) tends to refer to someone who showy or flamboyant. 

GLOW(ING) - Gleam(ing), -glint

A moggi who is brightly colored or merely distinctive in appearance, particularly granted to those who seem to carry themselves with a sort of confidence and thus carries the meanings of outspoken and self-assured. Its alternatives Gleam- is also associated with quick-wit while -glint is associated with being observant.

KINDLE(D) - Tinder

A name predominantly assigned to those of a ginger or russet color though occasionally, a warm cream or white furred moggi can receive it. Referring both the development of a new flame and how a fire’s color can change based on its material, the name carries the meanings of evolving or becoming better. While kindle(d)- often carries the undertone of accomplished its alternative tinder- carries the meaning understated talent, making it popular for ‘average’ valorants within a faction.

HAZE(Y) - No alternatives

A name assigned to a dark gray or black moggi alongside those with the coat-trait of being ‘smoked.’ When used as a suffix, -haze is often a backhanded name that means easily-distracted or confused while as a prefix, Hazy- carries the meanings of clever or intimidating, good at fooling others. 

LIGHT - Bright, Radiant, -radiance

A moggi of a lighter color, often white or cream and frequently those with oily or glossy coats. This name carries the meanings of being bold, noticeable or easily noticed - it’s alternatives carry these meanings too but Bright- is also associated with warmth and Radiant-/-radiance is associated with elegance or beauty. Sometimes used as a blanket name to mean watched by the gods. 

SCORCH(ED) - Singe(d)

A name assigned near exclusively to bright ginger or red moggi. As a prefix, Scorch(ed)- means ferocious or violent though its resemblance to the cursed affix Scorned allows some caesars to sneak in an unspoken meaning of cowardly and thus, the alternative Singed- is preferred. As a suffix, each mean fiercely loyal or harsh. 

SHINE(ING) - No alternatives

A brightly colored moggi, typically excluding those with a white pelt instead leaning toward intense gingers and carries the meaning of intelligent or talented, someone who shows promise in a certain area or role.

SOOT(Y) - No alternatives

A dark colored moggi, particularly one that is any shade of gray or black that is often used as paired name with Char- carrying the meanings of stealthy or trailblazer, as if one is leaving paw-prints for others to follow. 

SPARK(LING) - Shimmer(ing)

A moggi with a particularly glossy coat or more directly, has the trait of specially banded fur that gives it a distinctly glittery look reminiscent of the gods. Sometimes considered something of a cub-ish name, it tends to mean youthful and full of energy, with its alternative also being associated with creativity. It can be used as an alternative for a star-based name.

SMOKE(Y) - No alternatives

A dark furred moggi, particularly referring to those who are dark gray or black and especially the specific fur-trait of ‘smoke.’ Referencing the first part of a fire that one often notices, this name carries the meaning attentive and alert. It’s also used as a more ‘polite’ way of saying that someone has a long-standing cough or illness.

[the-world-of-ignavus]

Ignavus Fauna - Tytos

Text Transcript:

A mid-sized omnivorous being with four paws, a short fan-shaped tail and large wings. Hasawar Hisachovu have internal ears, one higher on their head than the other known for their crepuscular behaviors. They primarily eat berries and small rodents in the warm-season, only targeting larger creatures in the snow season with the intriguing habit of storing prey in 'caches' throughout their territory. They are highly adaptable, found all over the world and many have even begun to be tamed and trained by those from the north.

[the-world-of-ignavus]

Madness of the Storm: Ch 6 - Devastation

A raging storm is a balm in a drought, but one that rages continuously… that's when the destruction wrought is the worst.

Onset Census - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Pumastrike felt dazed as she stumbled from the Stormhold, crunching loudly through the snow with her son in her mouth. She almost didn’t believe what was happening, this couldn’t be happened - had she really been exiled? She and her cubs in the middle of a snow-drift that was restarting as they walked? But no, everytime she looked to her left she saw Blackbirdleaves’ glassy, grief-stricken expression as if the mender wasn’t even processing that he’d been exiled, too lost from losing Hawkfray to think straight. And then to her right was a still deeply shocked looking Troutnose, staying close as he grimly carried Spiceberry clamped tight in his mouth. He’d put up a good fight, getting into a spitting and snarling argument with Redfray in front of the entire Stormhold before being threatened with the reminder that he was - technically speaking - trespassing.

Swearing that Shiftingfronds would be made aware of Redfray’s inability to lead (thus, earning more shouting), the Shorerisen moggi had stalked over to Pumastrike’s cubs, who had been gently nudged into the clearing by Beebright with Whitejay standing between them and the rest of the faction. Without a word, he'd scooped up Spiceberry in his mouth and marched out, choosing not to say a word to anyone else.

She shuddered as a particularly cold wind stirred up the snow, blowing stinging snowflakes directly into her face, forcing her to squint as she struggled to see through the onslaught.

"Jus'a 'ittle fur'er," Troutnose muttered around Spiceberry's scruff. "'e 'yrmam'll 'et 'ou 'ay."

The Styrman will let us stay, Pumastrike echoed in her mind as reassurance. She clung to this offered fact, the siren's beckon of sanctuary and prayed that it was true because if it wasn't… where would they go? She supposes they could try to make it to the Galespun or the Fenns but it would be so lonely. No one she knew, no one she could trust - the Galespun were known to through occasional bouts of famine enough to enforce some kind of strange, fasting system upon its valorants and joining the Fennyield all but guaranteed one day raising her claws against her former factionmates.

So could joining the Shores, pointed out a quiet voice in her head.

She shook her head, dislodging the thought - the call of having someone, anyone familiar to her was like a faerie trail in the corner of her eye. The relationship and emotions she carried relating to Dancingpiper were complex and layered but it was still a not-negative relationship. It was someone who’d been around her cubs, who knew her struggles, who Pumastrike thinks she could one day trust.  

Pumstrike wasn’t sure what she was expecting when they made it to the river - a slow, lazy flow or maybe even the water itself frozen? She’d been born during the snow-season, so this was admittedly her first true experience with the might of Narrazo in the peak of the frigid season. She was certainly not expecting a powerful, angry dark beasts frothing madly with only a few large, flat looking stones between herself and the other shore. She eyed the water with hostile trepidation while Troutnose set Spiceberry down on her paws carefully.

“One at a time,” he commanded. “And don’t try to jump onto a rock at the same time as someone else - the stones are slippery at the best of times and with the cold…”

“Isn’t there any better way?” Pumastrike asked nervously, sitting Hawk between her paws.

“Our Starspeaker has been trying to rally for crafting a proper bridge,” the tom admitted. “But no one wants to provide easy access to our territory - the river is as good of a natural barrier as it gets.”

“And you’d have to ask my- Redfray to build anything on Stormborn land,” she muttered, lashing her tail anxiously as she looked at the stones. Truthfully, the Storm nationalist didn’t like the idea of a pathway directly into her soon-to-be-former territory either. She’d heard Shorerisen moggi - from cadets to fully trained valorants - complain extensively about how cold the main river could get and from what she observed, it seemed to dissuade them from crossing to the Stormborn’s side of things too - a bridge would be a disadvantage for both sides. “And then there’s be the matter of rehashing the border…”

“Exactly,” Troutnose agreed. “So for now - it’s just the old crossing stones.”

Sighing with defeat, Pumastrike picked her son back up and turned to the rocks. There were only three large, flat stones between herself and shore territory - for her cubs, she could do this. 

Stalking through leaf-litter was harder, she tried to reassure herself. The molly crept as close as she could to the stone, eying its glittery, slick surface with trepidation before exhaling a slow breath through her nose. She could feel her son trembling in her mouth - she could do this.

She sprung forward, Hawk releasing a distressed squeal as she landed roughly on the stone. She skidded back a little, her hindpaws temporarily losing their grip in a way that made her heart fall straight through her stomach and into the freezing water below. Her paw pads - already cold and a little numb from pushing through the snow - took the time to inform her that she was a warm-bodied creature, promptly sending tiny needles of pain through the pads of her paws. She trembled in place for a moment, using all of her control to maintain her balance before inching her legs slowly back underneath herself.

She didn’t even attempt a standing jump, immediately choosing to crouch low and bunch her muscles together. Hawk squealed again, louder when the river spray kicked up and sent a frigid breeze through his fluffy cub pelt making him a bit damp but it was better than trying a jump with not enough power.

The remaining two stones were equally as stressful to spring across, her claws never quite finding a grip that made her feel secure but eventually, finally she was standing on the soil-covered rocky shore of the rival faction.

Pumastrike wanted to collapse where she was, let the adrenaline fade her body while she recovered but relief wouldn’t come so long as her daughters were on the other side of that horror of a river. Troutnose came next with Spiceberry - she was impressed by the way he wasn’t sliding, the tom’s body landing as firmly as Pumastrike would on solid ground. He crossed the stones easily, evidentially used to it and joined them in no time at all.

Blackbirdleaves was the last one to cross, now carrying Honeyfruit with him. He was even less stable them Pumastrike was, the former Storm-Mender clearly not used to doing quite this much work. His attempt to pounce on the first stone set her right back on edge, the tom’s hinglegs slipping out from beneath him like they’d done Pumastrike’s, scrambling furiously enough at the rock that she could see pale white lines being gouged into the stone’s surface. Finally, he regained his grasp and stood up, ready to move to the next stone.

“I’m going to help,” she said worriedly.

“Don’t,” Troutnose said firmly, flinging his tail out in front of her. “Those stones aren’t big enough for two valorants and cub - and if you slide, you’ll all fall in.”

She hissed but stayed put, kneading the ground in anxious impatience as she watched Blackbirdleaves wiggle his hind-quarts and leap onto the next stone. His grip on this one was no better, this time seeming to overshoot the distance as he slid down the front of the stone. She squinted, trying to see through the intense swirling wind of snow that was slowly intensifying by the second - the guard felt like she was being pelted with snowflakes, the tips of her fur iced over and her whiskers were beginning to whip against her face. The snow had already melted against her fur, making her feel wet while she shivered from the cold, something she didn’t really consider important until she noticed the black furred tom loitering on the stone.

“What’s the hold-up?” Troutnose hollered over the howling of the wind.

“Blackbirdleaves?” she called out, concerned,

The tom said nothing, standing still on the rock and it was then Pumastrike realized he wasn’t shivering.

…how long has he been out in the snow?

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, the worst thing she would ever experience would happen to her.

A wave surged up, crashing against the stones and seemed to startle the dark furred tom back to life but though his mind had returned it was clear his body hadn’t. He was too stiff when he jumped with nowhere near enough life to carry him securely to the final stone. His back-half splashed into the water and before he could even adjust himself or make an attempt to clamber back atop the stone, another wave slammed into him and yanked him and her daughter beneath the waves.

“Honeyfruit!” she shrieked as Troutnose sprinted by her and dove into the river. 

Pumastrike wasn’t thinking about anything but her tiny daughter’s terrified cry as she disappeared into the unforgiving river, darting down the side of the river-bank following the current desperately trying to see through the storm for any sign of the shore cat and her cub. She could hardly see anything - the waters were dark and foreboding, obscuring her sight as much as the dancing snow.

“Honeyfruit! Honeyfruit please!”

She almost didn’t recognize the black pelt being dragged to shore by a gray-cream body.

“Where’s Honeyfruit?” Pumastrike demanded of the Shorerisen tom desperately. Troutnose looked at her mournfully. “No, please-”

“He must have let go when the current caught him,” Troutnose said quietly. “I-I’m so sorry.”\

This time, she couldn’t stop the way her muscles gave out and the molly collapsed on the banks wailing for her lost daughter.

[the-world-of-ignavus]

Medicinal Herbs and Poisons - B (WIP)

Bamboo - Arundinaria

Alt Name(s): Cane

A fairly resilient and adaptable, hard ‘shelled’ grass-like plant commonly used for crafting barriers. There are three variants known to the western side of the world - river canes, mountain cain and short cain with river cain being the most notorious and the largest. Typically have round, sort of sharp-shaped leaves with various branches toward the top - they can easily be mistaken for trees. 

Growth Conditions: Very Resilient - can handle partial, full and no shade alongside anything from dry to wet soil. Prefers loamy earth with high organic materials thought.

Found In:

The outskirts of the Greenwood Forest

Along the major river

Sporadically scattered in the Vastweald

Effects:

Roots - A general painkiller

Used In:

Pain Soothers

Alternative(s): Sticks (less effective, prone to splintering)

/ / / /

Basamroot - Balsamorhiza sagittata

Alt Name(s): N/A

One of the many sunflower lookalikes, balsamroot has silvery-gray leaves covered in tiny little hairs (especially on the back) that get smaller the higher up they are on the tall green stem. At the top is usually one blossom although two or even three can be attached to the same stem with thin, deep yellow petals spoked around a darker, slightly orange-ish center. They’re a popular snack for deer and rabbit. 

Rarity: Semi-Common

Growth Conditions: Prefers full sun with dry to moist or silty to loamy soils, though once they’ve really dug their roots in they’re willing to tolerate droughts and partial shade. Very vulnerable to having their roots disturbed 

Found In:

The West Coast

The Galespun Moor

Effects:

Leaves - Anti-Inflammatory, pain killer

Roots - Anti-Inflammatory, headache assistance, respiratory support

Used In:

Burn Salves

Cough Elixirs

Warning(s): Consumption in large amounts can result in stomach-cramps, it can also stimulate/induce labor

Alternative(s): N/A

/ / / /

Beadwood - Hamamelis virginiana

Alt Names: Witchhazel

A small, thin limbed and flexible tree with light brown or gray bark that usually grows along the edges of a forest with rounded, broad cone-edged green leaves accompanied by spidery-looking yellow blossoms along its branches. They’re sensitive to droughts but are more tolerant of heavy clay soils and erosion more-so than some other plants and are resistant to grazing from deer.

Rarity: Uncommon

Growth Conditions: Full or partial shade with heavy organism matter sprinkled within it with well-drained soils though it can tolerate flooded soil

Found In:

The West Coast Stretch

The Western Reach

Effects:

Stems (Boiled) - anti-inflammatory

Leaves (Boiled) - rash relief, anti-inflammatory

Leeched Tannin - potential remedy for wasting-sickness

Used In:

Rash Salve

Most basic elixirs

Alternative(s):

/ / / /

Birch - Betula occidentalis

Alt Name(s): Scarlet Birch, Water Birch, Red Birch

A relatively short and hardy scrubby tree that sprouts multiple, thinner trunks of a reddish color, coated in various small knots that gives it splashes of color. They have small, oval-ish serrated leaves and are a very popular snack among sheep, deer and goats while the birds are fond of their seeds.

Rarity: Rare

Growth Conditions: Grows in full sun to partial shade with moist to wet soils

Found In:

Outskirts of the Vastweald

Southern Outskirts of the Dancing Stars

Effects:

Bark and Stems - Soothes sores, cares for pimples, skin cleanser

Used In:

Rash Salve

Warning(s): None

Alternative(s):

/ / / /

Birdcherry

Alt Name(s): Chokeberry

Rarity: Uncommon

Growth Conditions: Full to partial sunlight in dry to medium-damp soil though they are willing to tolerate droughts and sandy or rocky soil

Found In:

The Nursery Stretch

The Wanderer’s Pass

The Western Coast

Effects:

Crushed Leaves - Soothes digestive problems, lessens fever, opens airways

Berries - Prey lure, offering to prey animals

Used In:

Berry Jams and Sauces

Fever Poultice / Fever Elixir

Warning(s): Birdcherries are mildly poisonous and should never be eaten raw if possible, only after being cooked

Alternative(s): Agrimony (safer, has a higher dosage point)

/ / / /

Blackberry

Alt Name(s): N/A

Rarity:

Growth Conditions:

Found In:

Effects:

Used In:

Warning(s):

Alternative(s):

/ / / /

Bloodroot

Alt Names: Braise Root, Burnroot

A medium-sized plant with a gentle green stem topped with about 9 delicate white petals and yellow stamen; a singular basal large basal leaf attached. Bloodroot releases an orangey-red sap that gives it its name

Rarity: Uncommon

Growth Conditions: In both moist and dry thickets near shores or streams though occasionally in meadows

Found In:

Fennyield Outskirts

Deep in the Vastweld Forest

Effects:

Eschar

Permanent Disfigurement

Ulcers

Used In:

Tattoos

Alternative(s): Carving

/ / / /

| Medicinal Herbs and Poisons - A |

[the-world-of-ignavus]

Words for Calm & Stormy Weather

People love talking about the weather, so we might expect a wide vocabulary. In fact, the range is not so great, presumably because there are only so many ways in which we can talk about something that we routinely experience every waking moment.

CALM

smolt (Old English) ⚜ lithe (c.1275) ⚜ still (1390)

smooth (c.1402) ⚜ peaceable (c.1425) ⚜ calm; serenous (c.1440)

lown (c.1450) ⚜ stormless (c.1500) ⚜ calm-winded (1577)

unwindy (1580) ⚜ calmy (1587) ⚜ sleek (1603) ⚜ pacific (1633)

settled (1717) ⚜ unstormy (1823) ⚜ untempested (1846)

placable (1858) ⚜ untempestuous (1864)

STORMY

reigh (early Old English) ⚜ stormy (c.1200) ⚜ wild (c.1250)

trouble (c.1374) ⚜ rough (c.1400) ⚜ rude (c.1439) ⚜ boistous (1470)

wair (c.1480) ⚜ tempestuous (1509) ⚜ blusterous (1548)

rugged (1549) ⚜ turbulent (1573) ⚜ rufflered (1582)

oragious (1590) ⚜ broily (1593) ⚜ unruly (1594)

procellous (c.1629) ⚜ coarse (1774) ⚜ ugly (1844)

Source ⚜ More: Word Lists ⚜ Notes & References ⚜ Historical Thesaurus

[the-world-of-ignavus]

Madness of the Storm: Ch 5 - Madness

A raging storm is a balm in a drought, but one that rages continuously… that's when the destruction wrought is the worst.

Onset Census - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Pumastrike found herself staring blankly at her paws, her cubs curled at her belly while the muffled sounds of someone talking to her flowed right over her head. The last several days had been a haze of distant, frothing emotions as she slowly processed what she’d witnessed. Pumastrike had stared down at the molly with shock, dropping the warming-elixer from her maw - the other molly, Dancingpiper as she’d come to learn had been at first surprised then happy to see her. She’d greeted her warmly, excitedly introducing her to her then unnamed cubs and introduced Weaselslash as ‘that busy mate of mine.’ When her mate (their mate?!) had jerked away from her, uncaring of the way the new mother had immediately crashed to the ground and seemed too tired to sit back up, blurting out excuse after excuse for his actions.

“It’s not what it looks like,” had been the first words he’d said, frightened. “It was a mistake.”

“...Weasel?” Dancingpiper had asked haltingly, struggling to push herself back into a sitting position. Pumastrike regrets not helping her, regrets being so trapped in shock that she’d forgotten what it was like to have been fresh out of labor. “What do you mean? Mistake?”

“Yes Weasel,” Pumastrike had agreed, her voice dropping into a growl while her quills had begun to stand up. “What do you mean?”

“I- it’s just,” the tom stammered, visibly flustered. His eyes darted between the two of them, as if trying to decide which part of his life to save before he visibly gave up. He bowed his head in shame and said not a word more, no matter how much they prodded him. 

“...can you stand?” Pumastrike asked the other molly, who was visibly on the verge of tears and received a muted shake of the head.

She should have known not to leave that sleezepelt with her but she also couldn’t have stood in that cavern, on those rocks for even a second longer. Pumastrike had stormed back to the Stormhold, paws crunching loudly through the snow as she blankly relayed what she had seen to the moggi she could before collapsing in the snow, just barely restraining from bursting into sobs. The patrol Hawkfray had led returned a bit later having been directed to the Suncairn to collect Dancingpiper had her cubs, the lieutenant himself covered in bleeding clawmarks reporting that Weaselslash had attacked upon realizing he’d be detained and fled into the snow with a second thought for his second mate.

She jumped a little as a scrawny looking rabbit carcass dropped in front of her face, resting half-twisted against her toes.

“You need to eat,” said Graveltongue, the nesthand general said sympathetically. “Your cubs have already lost their father. Don’t force them to lose their mother as well.”

Any protests about her lack of hunger died on her tongue and Pumastrike lowered her head without a word. The bite she took from the prey tasted like nothing, bland and uninteresting in her maw but she forced herself to swallow anyway. He was right - she was lucky her cubs weren’t nursing anymore, she’d hardly had an appetite to eat and moggi that don’t eat stop producing milk. She mustered a couple more bites before shoving it off to the side, resting her head in her paws as Mistmeadow’s son Cliff snatched the meal and dragged it back for his brother and mother to share.

Instead, her eyes drifted tiredly toward the nest where Dancingpiper was curled up. 

She could see the matted streaks of fur on the moggi’s cheeks from the long-dried tears she’d shed. The cubbing had happened that day she found them, and she’d mentioned seeing her mate a full moon before so Weaselslash had to have been sneaking around for at least four moons. Probably longer, even. She found herself playing every memory with the tom on repeat, pausing and scrutinizing every interaction - she thought about every time she’d found Sycamore turned loose in the forest even though she was still a fresh cadet, thought about all of the solo-patrols he’d started going on to bring her special prey.

Was any of that even real? She found herself wondering, claws sinking into the earth beneath her paws. Did he ever really love me? What about our bonding ceremony? Was he courting her at the same time he was swearing himself to me?

Shuffling at her side drew her attention and she quickly leaning down to lick her son between his ears, soothing the whimpers that had tried to break through his muzzle. Their- Her cubs had been taking it the hardest she thinks - they were old enough to understand that their father had betrayed their mother, betrayed their faction and hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye but not old enough to know it wasn’t their fault. They had turned inward on themselves, the separation anxiety that had finally begun dying down flaring back up worse than ever with no amount of soothing and consoling capable of reassuring the cubs without their mother’s presence. 

Her eyes flicked back up to Dancingpiper - she wanted to be mad, wanted to be furious with her for sneaking around with her mate and the father of her damn cubs but she couldn’t. Not when she remembered how out of it she’d been when moved temporarily into the nursery, nor when she remembered the grief-stricken wails when one of her cubs had succumbed to the cold, passing away at her belly only the day after entering the Stormhold while the other two became dangerously sick. Turns out, birth-fluids in combination with the first, coldest snow of the snow-season were a recipe for Cub Fever - a lesser but no less dangerous variant of White Lung. As it was, the cub’s tiny little body was resting nearby her nest in a simple woven basket to be carried back to Palanarra when Dancingpiper was well enough to return.

And for the snow to stop, Pumastrike thought grimly. Agitated whispers had passed throughout the Stormhold as valorants speculated. It was concluded - and Pumastrike agreed - that Mayaazo must’ve seen the blatant disrespect of a bonding done in her name, the betrayal of two mates and the shirking of two litters of cubs and had flown into a physical rage. The goddess they believed, was trying to smoke the treacherous tom out of whatever hole he’d hidden himself away in.

Her ears pricked at the sound of coughing and she watched Dancingpiper go rigid in her nest, the molly’s eyes flying open immediately as one of her cubs began coughing.

“No no no, you’ll be okay shhh,” the ginger fretted, the smooth and sleek fur characteristic of a palanarran moggi immediately beginning to stand up.

“I’ll get Blackbirdleaves,” Pumastrike said softly, pushing herself to her paws before anyone could argue with her.

She pushed her way through the snow building up in the clearing, giving herself a firm little shake when she reached the entrance to Blackbirdleaves’ den. Her whiskers twitched slightly at the cool air flowing from inside, peering around the tucked away corner at her mender. The tom’s usually well-groomed black fur was a complete mess, becoming dull and messy while he frantically sorted through a series of prepared herbs. The gentle crunch of her paws as she shook the snow off caught his attention, bright blue and exhausted eyes snapping to him.

“Are you sick too?” he demanded, ears flattening. “You better hope you can live on hopes and prayers alone!”

“Not me,” she said, a prickle of discomfort running through her. “Dancingpiper’s cub has started coughing again.”

The tom’s face reflected pure devastation as he looked down at the meager supplies before his paws. 

“...we don’t have enough medicine,” he said softly. “I can’t…”

“Hey,” Hawkfray’s rough voice startled her, making Pumastrike feel more awake and present in that one moment than she had in a long while. She hadn’t even realized he was in the front room - and the way Blackbirdleaves rushed him, fretting in a soft worried tone, it was likely the lieutenant wasn’t supposed to be up there. “It’s alright.”

“You should be lying down,” Blackbirdleaves fussed. “Your wounds haven’t healed. Let me get you some poppy-”

“No,” the lieutenant said. “You need it for the cadets and Dancingpiper’s cub. I’m strong, I can handle a little cut.”

“That is not a little cut!” the mender snapped, his bristled tail lashing furiously.

“It stopped bleeding ages ago.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re healed stupid!”

“Birdy,” Hawkfray said softly, causing Pumastrike to immediately become interested in the walls. “You have a duty to heal those who are most in danger - and I have a duty to put this faction first. I can stand and walk and speak - Sycamore is in there, wheezing and coughing so hard I’m afraid she’ll start spitting blood. Dancingpiper has already lost her son.”

The dark furred healer was trembling when the larger tom rested his chin on top of his head and Pumastrike tried to focus harder on the nooks and crannies of the mender’s den. It was something of a secret she thinks, Hawkfray’s and Blackbirdleaves’ relationship to each other. They were never this lovey-dovey in public and she’s fairly sure the lieutenant goes out of his way to avoid any mention of ‘love’ or ‘relationships’ around his father if at all possible. She’s afraid to ask why, but was always touched by the trust offered to her in the form of them being open around her.

“...you’re right,” Blackbirdleaves rasped. “You’re right. I just… hate this. I can’t help anyone at this rate… we’re so low on herbs and with the snow, there’s almost nothing to pick.”

“The storm has stopped,” the lieutenant pointed out. “So father should be sending Dancingpiper and her cubs home soon.”

“I don’t like sending a mother out to Karazo’s domain but there’s no better idea,” Blackbirdleaves sighed, pulling away from his lover. He pawed at the pitiful pile of leaves before them, “We just don’t have enough herbs if she catches something serious. I’m already struggling to make ends meet keeping the cadets from catching White Lung - it’s safer for her to go home, where they have more available to them.”

“And no war mid snow-season,” Hawkfray grumbled.

“You heard?” Pumastrike said with a grimace. 

“Heard?” the lieutenant scoffed, uncharacteristically bitter. 

“He and Redfray got into a fight,” Blackbirdleaves admitted, flicking his tail at the clawmark on his lover’s face. Pumastrike blinked taken aback, she had assumed the wound was from the surprise attack by Weaselslash and hadn’t healed or been torn back open. Redfray attacked his own son? “It was nasty.”

“Because asked him, begged him to call off the war at least until the snow-season has ended,” the tom spat. “Now our valorants are injured and we have nothing to treat them with!”

Blackbirdleaves wordlessly shoved a small pile of herbs toward Pumastrike. She took the silent hint for what it was and gathered the medicine in her mouth, leaving the dark furred medic to soothe his mate’s aching heart.

| | | |

“Now!”

Pumastrike yowled in shock as she was bowled over, claws sinking into her flanks as an ambush patrol sprung from the river and slammed into the approaching Storm party. She kicked and lashed out, trying to free herself from the painful hold of sharpened claws while her addled mind tried to make sense of everything.

The break in the snow had proved fruitful and the little bit of prey they’d been able to spare for their visiting molly had been well-received. Only a few days after her encounter with Blackbirdleaves, the mender had declared Dancingpiper well enough to at least make the journey home if she was escorted. Pumastrike hadn’t volunteered so much as she’d been begged by the desperate other molly to accompany her. Much to her slight confusion and mild discomfort, it seemed Dancingpiper had grown rather attached to her in the wake of everything that had happened and was loathe to be apart from her in this already strange and unfamiliar land. And the idea of losing her son and finding out that her mate had been unfaithful in the same day was still ringing through her head so she pushed herself to her paws and followed the patrol from the Stormhold.

“Ambush!” yowled Robinclaws - a bit late Pumastrike thinks, they’d already been attacked! - but in the end it didn’t matter.

“Give us Dancingpiper back you heartless bastards or else-” one of the Shore moggi began threateningly.

“We were bringing her dung for brains!” she spat with offense, wishing her tail was more quill heavy. Then she could slam it into the moggi’s belly, spearing them with her quills and sending them running scared back into their own Hold. 

“So you could leverage the Suncairn back,” the tom spat. “Mayaazo rages at all of you - we won’t let you use a pregnant molly to bully us out of land we won!”

“By the Eyes what are you even talking about?” Rowanshiver, the leader of this little patrol demanded. Her hackles were fully raised and she’d turned her head, deliberately showing off the torn part of her muzzle that ensured her tooth was always visible. “We’re bringing her sorry rear home after she got caught in an affair!”

“Wha-”

“Troutnose.”

The arguing valorants fell silent as Dancingpiper stumbled forward, having clearly been shoved into a bush for her own protection when the ambush started. The basket carrying her precious bundles, one wrapped and the other snuggled into the moss and shed underfur thankfully undamaged.

“I thank you for coming to get me,” she said in a low voice. “But all of… this was unnecessary.”

“You’re okay,” sighed Troutnose with relief, the mane of a sail-fin lowering against his back. “Your mate showed up,  telling us how you were taken hostage-”

“Mate?” Dancingpiper asked, a furious glint entering her eye at the same time Pumastrike felt her stomach drop. The weight of valorant above her disappeared, despite them not moving a muscle as her breath caught.

Weaselslash?

“It seemed you were having… relations with a storm-mog,” Troutnose said with an awkward laugh. “He showed up covered in claw-marks saying the caesar had attacked and he escaped but you were trapped.”

“We didn’t know what to believe at first,” another moggi admitted. “But half a moon passed with no sign or word-”

“Because there was a snow-storn stupid.” Rowanshiver interrupted with a snort, bushy tail lashing. “Do you know what sort of heartless monsters we’d have to be to send a recently cubbed molly into a snow-storm?”

“While her cubs have Cub Fever,” Pumastrike hissed.

The Shore patrol paused, seeming to digest the words spoken to them and exchanged looks. 

“...and the wounds?” Troutnose asked cautiously.

“Weaselslash is a bond-breaker and traitor,” Rowanshiver scoffed. “He pledged himself to Pumastrike in Mayaazo’s name - meanwhile he was sneaking around with your molly. Then after her got caught, he ditched her at the Suncairn to freeze and attacked our lieutenant when he went after him.”

“...”

“...seems there’s been a misunderstanding then,” the marble pelted tom growled, flicking his tail. Immediately the other shore valorants stepped back, allowing Pumastrike and Robinclaws to stand up again and back their way towards Rowanshiver. “Or rather, a weasel is trying to squirm his way out of yet another net.”

“That cowardly bastard…” growled Robinclaws, stomping the ground with open frustration. “He’s still causing trouble half-a-moon later.”

Troutnose gestured towards his patrol, “Take Dancingpiper home.”

“What about you?”

“I’m returning to the Stormhold with this patrol,” the tom said authoritatively. “We need to formally apologize for this ambush and let their caesar know what their runaway valorant is getting up to.”

“At least honor isn’t completely dead and buried,” Rowanshiver grumbled, though she didn’t bother to deny him.

She merely flicked her ear impatiently as the other three members of the Shorerisen patrol moved forward, two allowing Dancingpiper to lean against them while the last picked up the basket cradling her cubs. Troutnose stepped around him party, lowering his ears as he stepped into the center of the Stormborn moggi.

Dancingpiper paused and glanced back, meeting Pumastrike’s eyes.

“...thank you for all your help,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry that everything turned out… like this.”

Pumastrike just dipped her head, “I hope your daughter grows up warm and healthy. I’ll see at the next Summit.”

| | | |

Returning to the Stormhold was a relatively calm affair. They took the longer route back, taking advantage of the snow-covered surroundings to thoroughly confuse their visitor for directions and Rowanshiver deliberately brought them to slide down a snowy embankment to stumble upon the entrance of to the Hold. It was a good thing they’d already sent Dancingpiper home as the break in the snow had been just as brief as the veterans and hunters had suspected it would be - a heavy blanket of snowflakes dappling the ground and the pelts of everyone around them as they arrived at the entrance.

Shuffling inside, Rowanshiver retrieved her father who had immediately called the faction to assembly so Troutnose could re-cap the entire situation and everything the shores had been told by Weaselslash under the eyes of the entire faction. Pumastrike had left halfway through, slipping back into the nursery to curl around her whining cubs to reassure both them and herself. Her eyes drifted to the now empty nest sitting across from her, still molded into the shape of Dancingpiper’s body.

It was nice having someone here who understood my grief, Pumastrike sighed to herself.

She had just began to drift off when she heard a call for her name. She blinked blearily, yawning slightly as she allowed her body to reawaken and arched her back. The moment she stepped back outside though, she knew something was wrong.

Mazzardgrowl was standing on the Slab, staring up at his father with open disbelief that was mirrored by Troutnose. Rowanshiver seemed to be alternating between distress and determination, as if she didn’t like whatever was happening but was willing to defend it given she was standing across from her brother with partially unsheathed claws. Other members of the factions were crouched on the edge, watching from the partial overhang of the barracks and most eyes were resting on her, expressions ranging from mild suspicion to pity or sympathy.

“...what’s going on?” she asked cautiously, glancing around. 

“Pumastrike,” Redfray bellowed, his fur bristled from where he stood upon the caesar’s ledge. “You stand before your faction accused of an assistant to murder-”

“What?!” she yelped.

“-and harboring a spy!” he spit. 

“I- what- who even died?!” she demanded, looking around for answers. As the words left her muzzle, she watched as Rowanshiver and Mazzardgrowl each averted their eyes from her. A chilling sensation ran through her veins and she peered over her shoulder towards the mender’s den in the hopes she was misunderstanding the situation. But no. There was Blackbirdleaves, hunched over looking like he hadn’t slept in moons looking utterly gutted.

“...his infection took him,” Pumastrike concluded mournfully.

“Because you wasted his herbs on that shore-creature’s worthless brat,” Redfray seethed from the caesar’s ledge, snapping her bewildered attention back at him. “You killed my son! You and that worthless mender who doesn’t even deserve his name!”

“My Storm-”

“I am no longer your Storm!” Redfray roared down at her, glowering furiously. “You and that useless excuse of a mender are henceforth banished from the lands of the Storm and should hide or quill of you be spotted by dawn, it will be considered trespassing!”

“Blackbirdleaves has nothing to do with this-” she tried to argue.

“He failed my son!”

“What about his cadet?” Mazzardgrowl tried desperately. “Bat will have no instructor-”

“He will get nothing useful from that waste of fur,” Redfray scoffed. “Leave now, - and take those half-breed rats with you. I want nothing to do with the blood of my son’s murderer.”

[the-world-of-ignavus]

Madness of the Storm: Ch4 - Betrayal

A raging storm is a balm in a drought, but one that rages continuously… that's when the destruction wrought is the worst.

Onset Census - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Pumstrike gave herself a harsh shake, trying her best to regain her breath in the wake of the cheers around her in the Kirkyard. She smirked, raising her head triumphantly as the Galespun referee declared her the winner of the circuit. She hadn’t intended to join in this time - she was actually tired for once - and had started to hunker down to sleep through the trade and games part of the Summit. But as the valorant’s sparring circuit had opened, they’d been one body short of a full set and she was right on the edge of the set-up so it didn’t seem like a bad idea.

She figured she’d participate in the first couple of rounds, win maybe two matches or so and then sit out to watch the rest of the valorants show their training. It wasn’t that she didn’t have any faith in herself (if it was the warm-season, she would’ve been in the thick of it) but it had finally begun snowing on and off and the cold, she’d discovered, made the scars on her leg seize up in a painful way. She’d spent the entire night before limping around their barracks until Blackbirdleaves had taken pity on her and granted her herbs for the pain, then recommended a salve she slather on every other day. With her leg feeling like some kind of hound was latched onto it, making furious attempts to rip it from her very body, she’d chosen to be realistic in her abilities. 

She hadn’t expected to win not just her first and second match-ups but also her third, then the fourth and the next thing she knew, Pumastrike was being announced the winner of the Summit’s sparring circuit.

“That was totally awesome,” gasped Reach as the older molly approached the sidelines. The cadet had spotted her instructor participating and have immediately stopped to cheer her on as loudly as her little body would allow her to, loyally watching the valorant’s spar instead of participating in any of the cadet games. “You were so cool!”

“Thank you,” Pumastrike chuckled, lowering herself down. She hissed a little - the impact against the ground in her last spar had agitated her legs a little, bringing the tight feeling back up her leg. “I appreciate your support.”

“Do you think we cadets can have a sparring circuit?” Reach asked eagerly. 

“No one is stopping you from arranging one,” Pumastrile encouraged. “Go ahead and talk - then find a valorant to judge the matches.”

“Can’t you judge?”

“Afraid not,” she apologized. “I bumped my leg and if it gets any worse, I’ll ascend to the Eternal Falls from sheer agony.”

Reach made a sound of concern but nodded and wandered over towards the remains of a pounce competition made of cadets.

“She’s right, you were incredible.”

Pumastrike purred, twisting her head to look up at Weaselslash as he settled down beside her. He stretched out his neck, sniffing her injured leg with concern. She winced a little when he moved, which seemed to be his signal to duck his head, drawing his tongue across the tense muscle. 

“You’re such a worrier,” she teased.

“I saw that tremble,” he denied, offering another firm wash. “I talked with Currantclaws-”

Pumastrike blinked, a bit taken aback. He’d gone that far for her? “One of seers?”

“I had to know,” the tom said. “Anyway, he says that over in the east, they use herbs to make all sorts of ‘oil’ that could help with this. It’s apparently expensive, I’ll probably have to catch a small elk or something and approach the Tidechasers but I think we could get some for you before the end of the snow-season.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she murmured.

“I hate seeing you in pain,” he said sincerely. “I’ll catch something good and we’ll make the trade.”

“Thanks love,” she sighed, resting her head on her paws. “You think Redfray will be upset if I sleep through the rest of the Summit?”

“I can cover for you,” her mate said instantly. He sat up, moving higher up and draped his tail over her flanks and belly. “Just rest your eyes, it’ll be fine.”

So she did.

A Summit was too noisy, too full of rival faction-moggi for her to be really comfortable sleeping, but just resting her eyes and allowed time to crawl by wasn’t bad. She flickered in and out of focus as the Summit dragged on - the Shorerisen spoke up first, the Styrman Shiftingfronds proudly boasting of the large number of cadets resting in their paws and the pleased announcement of a more cubs being born along the way. After them, the Galespun’s moon stepped forth, announcing first the official promotion of Currentclaws as their omenseer as his mother Pollensprinkle stepped down from active duty.

Good, Pumastrike thought to herself hazily as the new Fennyield caesar, Scalefeather stepped forth. Pollensprinkle had apparently been the sole serving omenseer since Pumastrike’s own mother was a cadet seasons ago. It was long since time for her to retire after seasons of faithful service. 

“-and Pumastrike!”

She jumped as cheers broke out, quickly sitting up when the cheers from all around the clearing broke out. Right, Redfray was standing in the speaking-light now, so he must’ve been announcing her and Weaselslash’s promotions. She did her best to look like she’d been awake the whole time, keeping her chin high and offering sleepy cheering when Reach was announced as a fresh cadet.

“Our new valorants have proven immensely skilled,” Redfray boomed, shooting a nasty glare at Shiftingfronds. “And soon, their cadets will join them in driving away poachers.”

Pumastrike’s ears flattened slightly at the acid tone her caesar took, the pregnant molly from before returning to her mind. She had caught a few other Shorerisen scents in a few days, but only because she was technically poaching by hunting on the Suncairn. She hadn’t actually smelled any Shorerisen scents on their side of the border - and really, why would they? With the ground hard and frosted, preparing for the snow being held just out of sight, she was willing to admit their territory held nothing for them.

It was lucky that Hawkfray had been able to talk their caesar down from launching a raid on the much more consistently fed Shorerisen (to at least wait until the rain-season for such an expensive raid) but it appeared that his hostility hadn’t yet been spent.

“Poachers!” Rowanshiver shiver yowled, a chant quickly taken up by her faction mates.

Pumastrike jolted when Weaselslash bumped her slightly in his own furious cry. 

“Poachers! Poachers! Poachers!”

“We’ve poached nothing from your empty lands!” Shiftingfronds snarled back, fur bristling and the pale sail on his back made him look even larger. “Your valorants not being able to catch anything if it died in your paws is no problem of ours!”

“Yeah, fang-less!” accused a Shorerisen moggi. “Fang-less! Fang-less! Fang-less!”

Oh no, Pumastrike thinks with panic. The two sets of valorants were yowling louder and louder, arched backs and snarling filling the air. No, no, no! Please, the snow-season is approaching, we can’t offend Mayaazo! My cubs-

“Stop this at once!” Scalefeather yowled above them all, practically shoving himself between Redfray and Shiftingfronds. “You would dare disrespect Nichazo by spilling blood before his very eye?! You dare disrespect Karozo and the spirits that rest in this land, who demanded this be a place of peace?!”

Thank you! Pumastrike practically shrieks in her mind. How could the caesars be so irresponsible? When all four factions had announced the births of young cubs and every moggi knew that the snow-season was the worst for younglings, here they were! Fighting before the eye of Nichazo! Likely enraging Mayaazo who didn’t stand for the disrespect of her kin, as if they didn’t know she would punish them all for such cruelty. 

The chanting from both sides died down, the two caesars now looking like scolded cubs. 

“I extend my truest apologies to our great Nichazo for allowing myself to be goaded into unsheathing my claws in this night of peace,” Shiftingfronds said solemnly, bowing his head. He seemed to forcibly lower his hackles and encourage his fur to flatten back out. “As caesar I take upon myself the full burden of my valorants unsheathing their claws and offer a deep and sincere apology to all the spirits that call this Kirkyard home.”

“...I regret baring my teeth on this nice of peace,” Redfray agreed begrudgingly, his tail giving a fierce lash. “And hope that my faction is spared the wrath of Mayaazo when it was I that caused such a reaction.”

Scalefeather looked between his fellow leaders with an expression of pure disapproval that could only be managed by a youngster looking at his elders before Palemoon spoke up.

“Perhaps we should end this meeting early,” the moon caesar of the heath said slowly, long pointed ears twitching worriedly. “I don’t think we’re welcome on sacred grounds after coming so close to violating the charters.”

“I agree,” said Scalefeather immediately. “Let us pray the aazoli forgive us for what almost happened this night.”

And, without waiting for the agreement of the other caesars, Scalefeather dropped to the ground. The fennlander’s wordlessly fell into step behind their leader, following him from the clearing. Palemoon wasn’t far behind, shooting one last withering glare at the two leaders before hopping down, leading their own cats back to the moor and their dens. 

| | | |

There was an uneasy peace for the next moon as everyone in the Empire waited to see what the aazoli would think of their behavior. All of the healers had ventured to the Kirkyard, sacrificing much needed prey and valuable herbs in a feeble attempt to appease the gods, the Galespun even sending Pollendance to recite a few words as their most loyal descendant of Olympia while Redfray and Shiftingfronds groveled a bit into the remaining light of the moon. They could only hope their efforts were enough to appease the most vengeful of the aazoli.

Sadly it seemed their penance wasn’t enough.

Only a few short days after the Summit, Kaŕozo promptly ushered in the first heavy snowfall of the season without granting them any more to prepare which is how Pumastrike saw herself struggling through snow up to her belly at sunpeak. She crawled up onto one of the many logs scattered through Stormborn territory, never more grateful for her thick layered coat while her cadet practically swam after her. She twisted around, sinking her claws as deep as she could into the harden bark and grasped Reach by the scruff, lifting the cadet to sit next to her.

“T-thank you,” the cadet chattered, making Pumastrike feel awful.

“Just a little bit further,” she promised.

It had been a necessary training session for a guard cadet, learning to traverse their complex territory when the scent trails had been mostly erased and the trickier vines and branches were buried under thick snow but looking at the trembling cadet, she felt horrible. Her first snow-training session hadn’t been nearly this bad - the snow hadn’t gone past her ankles - but Reach was soaked up to her neck. She hadn’t even wanted to bring her out - preferring the idea of training the cadet within the shallower snow of the dengrounds - but Redfray had insisted that all cadets be sent out. 

Even Bat, Lily and Elk - who’d all been assigned very recently (Lily and Bat after the Summit then Elk only a few days prior) hadn’t been spared the order, something she knew had Blackbirdleaves’ quills perpetually on edge. Not that she could blame him - poor little Elk who was already small and fragile looking seemed to be coming down with a bad cold only a few days after being assigned and Lily seemed to be going the same way.

And that doesn’t even touch Bat, she thought to herself grimly. Part of the reason the Morningdaisy had been swayed into allowing her cubs to be assigned a moon early was Blackbirdleaves’ suspicions that her son had been Chosen and had been granted the gift of omensight from the aazoli. A prophet! And so soon after the caesars offended the aazoli!

Pumastrike didn’t need to be chosen to smell the bad news on the horizon - all signs pointed to some terrible creeping up on them, just waiting to catch her faction napping.

“...how are you feeling?” she asked her cadet, attempting to distract herself from her foreboding thoughts.

“B-better,” Reach said. “I-I think-k I c-an keep g-going now.”

Sure - and the Gales will be professing their undying love of swimming tomorrow, Pumastrike thinks to herself fondly. The tiny cadet was still shivering like a leaf in a windstorm,  pelt so bushed out for warmth she could be confused for a tytos chick.

Deciding to cut the poor thing some slack - and also assuage the guilt she was feeling - Pumastrike leaned over and scooped the cadet up by the scruff again, dropping back into the snow with a grunt. The gray-furred molly was growing rapidly and Pumastrike doesn’t think she be able to do this even half a moon later, but for now at least she could do her part to avoid putting another cadet in the mender’s den. Her paws crunched loudly as she as she stepped high and carefully, wincing everytime she stumbled and dragged Reach’s entire rump throat the snow. 

She slid carefully down the side of the last hill, leaning back a bit to prevent herself from tumbling into the ice and sleet, into sight of the Hold’s entrance.

There was no one there to greet them as she clambered through the snow. Hawkfray hadn’t bothered to assign guards after the snow had blown in.

“If one of the other factions manage to get all the way here through the snow, they’re here by the will of the aazoli themselves,” the lieutenant had said dryly when asked. “In which case, we ought to just submit to their demands for our own sake.”

The center was no fuller - everyone with sense and nothing to do tucked safely away in the barracks, curled together to stay warm. Only the truly unfortunate were still outside, sweeping snow away from the openings of the barracks - especially the nursery, to keep the cubs and nursing moggi from having to get wet to enter and exit.

Pumastrike set her cadet down and after another hasty ‘thanks,’ she watched Reach bolt straight for the cadet’s barracks and disappear within its warmth.

“Wait! Pumastrike!”

She paused, turning her attention to Sycamore who was struggling towards her through the snow, stopping the molly from entering the nursery to hide away from the cold as well.

“What’s wrong Sycamore?” she inquired - because it was clear there was something wrong. The cadet was almost as equally poofed out as Reach had been but the molly was dry, clearly having stayed in the barracks long enough to warm up; her quills were bristled too, rather than flattened into her fur.

“Have you seen Weaselslash?” the cadet asked. “He went out hunting and said we’d be training when he came back - but he hasn’t!”

“When did he go out?” Pumastrike asked, worry immediately killing the chill in her pelt.

“Just after the dawn patrol left,” Sycamore said.

“And he’s not been back at all? Not even to visit the nursery?”

“No,” said Sycamore, ears flattened as she processed that not even his mate knew where her instructor was. “And the other hunters say they haven’t seen him either.”

Pumastrike’s own ears flattened in return and she quickly reassured the cadet that she would find him before making a break for Blackbirdleave’s den. She burst in noisily, snow spilling in having been caught on her paws as she scrambled to a half in the main clearing, the scent of herbs and medicine filling her lung. She took a look around - no Blackbirdleaves, so she ventured deeper in and poked her head into the opening that led into one of the sheltered caverns.

“Blackbirdleaves!” she called, seeing him in the cavern’s entrance sitting together with Hawkfray.

“Pumastrike?” the blue-eyed tom blustered, scrambling away from the tom. They quickly untwined their tails, Blackbirdleaves clearing his throat while Hawkfray stared intently at his paws while the skin of his ears burned red. “I- what-”

“Warming-elixer!” she said impatiently. “I need one to go out in the snow.”

Hawkfray’s head snapped up, the embarrassment immediately becoming replaced by the serious expression of  a lieutenant.

“Is this about Weaselslash?” he asked intently. “Has he still not turned up?”

“Sycamore says she hasn’t seen him since just after dawn,” Pumastrike said desperately.

“I’ll get you a pouch,” said Blackbirdleaves, his own professionalism taking over in the face of a faction-mate potentially being in danger. “If he’s been gone for so long, it’s possible he’s passed out in the snow.”

Pumastrike shuddered at the idea of her mate, all alone, unconscious in the snow as she followed mender and lieutenant back into the main cavern. She was thankful as Blackbirdleaves passed her pouch - elixirs were rare and with Redfray’s hostility towards non-Storm moggi, there were hardly any merchants or trade groups that were willing to deal with them. He could be saving this for the young cadets or the cubs or the nesters - he was making a sacrifice so she could maybe save her mate.

“Try checking the Suncairn,” Hawkfray suggested to her,  his tail lashing furiously. “The stones are stacked high enough to get out of the snow - he might have tried to hide in one of caves to wait. I’ll send a patrol after you.”

Pumastrike nodded, ducking her head to hurriedly drink the elixir presented to her by Blackbirdleaves. She gave a slight shiver as a sudden wave of heat washed through her body, making her feel a bit hot under the fur for a moment before turning on heel and taking off.

She knew exactly what cave he was talking about - it was actually the one any instructor who knew their stuff would point out. If the snow piled up too high, the cave were high enough off the ground to avoid being filled and small enough that a pair of cats could retain body heat until a snowstorm passed and someone could retrieve them. They’d even practiced hiding inside of it. Back when she and Weaselslash were cadets, coping with the loss of their parents they used to curl around each other in there. Hidden from the world, they’d spent a bit of time crying, ranting and grooming each other before calming down, cleaning their faces and taking the time to go hunting.

She hardly recognized anything as she sprinted through the territory, allowing muscle-memory of the route to take over and guide her through the endless sea of snow and ice. 

When the stones came into sight, she opened her mouth in an attempt to catch any taste of prey-scent in the air. Plenty of creatures would come to the Suncairn, even in the dead of winter just to get water from the river - a hunter like Weaselslash would’ve been drawn toward the riverbed. Her nose was cold and admittedly, she hadn’t been trained to track prey through the snow but it didn’t matter anyway - there was disturbed snow on the stones.

Weasel! She thought to herself with relief, plodding through the snow desperately. 

“‘eashel-!” she tried to cry joyously from around the pouch in her mouth but she froze.

Weaselslash was in the cavern alright - but not unconscious or even curled up and shivering. No, he was wrapped around a molly - a familiar, pretty molly ginger molly - looking utterly petrified. 

And curled up at the exhausted molly’s belly were three, tiny cubs.

[the-world-of-ignavus]

Finally managed to come up with a word I like more/as much as 'camp' so that'll be some editing I have to do.

now if anyone can recommend something better than 'mender' I'm all ears. I keep hitting the road-block that is me separating the spiritual aspect from the clinical one.

An 'omenseer' is the one who picks up on signs littered throughout the world but anyone can be an omenseer, it's an appended title (hence some of the healers having the title 'Chosen') but the average doctor isn't an omenseer

[the-world-of-ignavus]

The Greenwood Empire - Roles and Positions

Part 1 - Generals | Part 2 - Specials

Now in addition to the divergent roles that came from the general roles of the Empire, each of the individual factions have developed some roles that exist exclusively within their own ranks to bend to their own structures, territory requirements and social customs. You may have noticed some interesting places of overlap or void within the roles of the factions - this is from their histories.

Fenn Caesars - Due to a series of tragedies and unfortunate events regarding leadership, Fennyield healers found themselves repeatedly responsible for leading the faction and through equally tragic and suspected malicious circumstances, found themselves appointing their cubs to succeed them. Eventually, one mender called Littleflowers didn’t even bother to appoint a new leader and instead, went into The Spear in an attempt to seek their additional lives and when they received them, appointed their son to take succeed them. Since then, healing in the Fenns is exclusively the domain of the caesar.

Fenn Attendants - To be responsible for both the healing of injured or sick factionmates and also the overall leadership of a faction is a heavy job, attempting to do both of those jobs on top of raising cubs is… a lot. And so attendants are those responsible for the assistance in raising, training and caring for a caesar’s cubs. This is especially after an heir is chosen out of them and the caesar will focus most of their attention on them. Attendant is a strange role, both incredibly high in rank given how close they are to the caesar’s family and hardly more than a glorified servant.

Fenn Executioners - Swift and decisive action is one of the things that the Fenns can agree with the Gales on and when it comes to punishment, they’re particularly harsh. The Fennyield work to ensure their troubles are even perceived by the other factions, extending into those who commit the most serious of crimes. To show the aazoli their commitment to correcting that mistake alongside as a silent show of respect to the other factions, the worst criminals are put to death before the entire faction by an Executioner who is not allowed to perform any other form of killing and are made to wear a ‘glove’ over their forepaws outside of executions. These moggi also take on the duties associated with a diplomat in another faction.

The Gales admittedly look very strange next to any of the other factions, missing several ranks alongside a few strange divisions. Their territory is unusual compared to the other faction’s, the only one with only sporadic tree-cover and wide, open fields surrounded by other non-Empire lands with an actual trade-route running through their land and they were forced to chance to meet this challenge.

Gale Caesars - Caesars in the Gales are broken into two - the Sun and Moon - reflecting the divide between their valorants themselves. The Heathstalkers and Deepstalkers once went to war with each other, only a few spans after their faction was founded regarding a sense of inequality breeding when a moggi from either side would become a caesar. Eventually, peace was established through a truce and one moggi on either side stepped up and went to The Spear - much to their surprised delight, they were both granted lives. Now the Sun Caesar oversees the Heathstalkers and all associated tasks while the Moon Caesar oversees the Deepstalkers and all their associated tasks.

Gale Escorts - With a wide expanse of treeless territory that must be regularly crossed by Empire-moggi and outsiders alike, the Gales needed a way to secure their own territory from intrusion. This resulted in escorts who have a series of posts throughout their land, constantly patrolling the borders for anyone trespassing and walking them to wherever they need to be. Escorts also serve as scouts and messengers with many of them choosing to become diplomats later. 

Neither the Shorerisen nor the Stormborn have changed or added many ranks in comparison to either the Fenns or the Gales, each only adopting two new somewhat minor ranks of their own.

Shores Starkeepers - The Starkeepers were formed after an unfortunate event with between a starspeaker cadet and the starseer of the Gales named Currantclaws. The starkeeper reacted violently, killing the young cadet who’d received no training. In the wake of this horror, all Starspeakers are now assigned a Starkeeper, a moggi who is meant to guard and protect the speaker with their lives and even after a speaker retires, the keeper stays by their side. It’s a very distinguished and honorable role that marks a moggi as more or less outside of their faction’s ranks.

Storm Legates - Line of succession is a deeply important to the factions and especially the Stormborn. A sporadic series of events throughout their history brought to their attention the need to make their faction capable of functioning even if both their lieutenant and caesar are incapacitated. ‘Legates’ are essentially the lieutenants of the other roles in the stormborn - when a General retires, their legate will step in to take over. It’s so ingrained in their culture, that becoming a legate is one of the unofficial qualifications to become the faction’s lieutenant, showing tangible proof that one can organize and manage their faction-mates, plan for the future and step in when things are shaky. This redundancy ensures that it’s actually very hard to disrupt the operations of the Storm as there is always someone else to step in. 

[the-world-of-ignavus]

The Greenwood Empire - Roles and Positions

Part 1 - General | Part 3 - Other Roles

GUARD POSITIONS

The role of the guard varies from faction to faction, it’s importance leaning heavily on what dangers a faction faces. An exception to this is the Galespun - the responsibility and duties of the guard-role have been mostly placed on the shoulder of the escort rank, with the more sporadic, small duties being picked up by their faction-mates. Another exception are the Shorerisen moggi, whose guard role became merged with their rank, divers who are the ones who most commonly stumble across large predators and are thus, taught more advanced combat moves.

Slayers - Because the Stormborn ‘s territory borders the Vastweld, they are the ones forced to face the worst of the predators the Greenwood usually sees. With a fairly humid general climate the thickest brush and tree-cover, black bears, major boars and enormous stranglers are known to lurk among the borders or even cross over with the intent of targeting young cadets during the winter when prey is harder to come by. This is on top of the story of the Unresting Souls that are said to lurk within this forest. Slayers are taught about the various forms of predators and easily provoked prey, learning to chase off the more easily intimidated creatures and are looked upon by all factions with a degree of marvel for their more impressive acts.

HUNTER POSITIONS

The hunting role is easily the most variable rank within the Empire given that each faction’s territory differs enough to require different hunting styles. As members of each faction adapted to their new territory, they rapidly became specialists that struggle to hunt properly outside of their own land.

Heath and Deepstalkers - Within the Gales, the role of a hunter is divided into two roles: those who hunt above-ground and those who hunt underground, often working in pairs. Deepstalkers enter the burrows created by tunneling creatures to drive them from their dens above ground where their Heathstalker partners can take over and chase it down - it’s not uncommon for Heaths and Deeps to form bonds with those who they work with the most often. On their own, Heathstalkers are the ones who target flying birds and lizards while Deepstalkers will dig out buried nests of lizard eggs or ground squirrels.

Divers - Originally just a hunter’s rank, divers specialize in providing their faction with all of the aquatic prey that the Shorerisen are known to favor. They’re capable of holding their breaths longer than other members and long lines of them typically have the sleekest, longest sail-fins,  for diving to the bottom of the river retrieving shells, crayfish and various water-minnows. They also target the eggs of water-birds and some, small aquatic mammals.

Murkers - With so much brackish, slightly acidic water the Fenns have developed a role specifically made to catch prey in the depths. Murkers have learned to unearth shrimp and mud lobsters that bury themselves in the mucky silt alongside shelled creatures that attempt to stick themselves to the roots, careful to avoid the occasional barracuda, whiptail-rays and surprisingly aggressive catfish while in pursuit of the few, stubborn fish that swim through the branches.

[the-world-of-ignavus]

The Greenwood Empire - Roles and Positions

Part 2 - Specials | Part 3 - Other Roles

There are many roles and positions that allow the Greenwood Empire to operate properly and everyone - from the smallest cub to the most ferocious valorant - has a contribution. This is a concept so ingrained into the very foundation of the Empire that things that would usually be considered merely personal traits (age for example) are also placed within the rankings of the various positions in the faction. While there are many divergences, many roles that branched off to better suit the factions for their own culture and territory, there are a collection of positions that are held within all of the factions though the specifications and names it’s called often vary.

The first few roles are often considered the four most important:

Caesar - The overall leaders and guides for each of the factions, widely considered the ‘faces’ of the Empire given their word and instilled behavior is what the outside sees. Every ‘proper’ caesar has the blessings of the aazoli and the approval of at least one of their previous faction-mates. All factions have at least a caesar, though their responsibilities (and the number) vary. [No Variants]

Lieutenant - The second in command to a caesar, a helper to better manage the wide territories and effectively act as a caesar’s cadet. Lieutenants are meant to succeed their caesar in case the worst happens and steps in when their leader is otherside indisposed. All factions have a lieutenant style-role. [Variants - Heir, Moon and Sun Lieutenant] 

Diplomat - Where we begin dividing power, the diplomat does not have an formalized authority the way the caesar and lieutenant do but the faction will often defer to them anyway. Meant to organize meetings between factions and the outside world to handle deals and treaties, every faction is required to have at least one diplomat equivalent role although there are typically at least two - the diplomat and their cadet. [Variants - Starspeaker, Executioner]

Starmender - Those who follow the calling of healing to and ensure that a faction can recover from injuries and illnesses incurred over time, those who are Chosen are also usually sensitive to the omens and whispers of the aazoli. A faction is generally considered incomplete without at least one healing role at all times. [Variants - Caesar, Starspeaker, Starseer]

From there, there are the more general positions - these are roles that are more personal in nature and almost every moggie in a faction will have held these roles at least once.

Instructor - A sometimes overlooked aspect of the Empire, Instructors are meant to train and in a sense, pseudo-raise cadets into proper valorants. Not everyone has (what a faction considers) to be the necessary disposition to properly train a cadet and instill within them the values of the faction. It’s a somewhat prestigious rank given that most versions of the valorant’s charter requires an individual to have trained a cadet to be named lieutenant. [No Variants] General - While the caesar handles overall duties and a lieutenant manages the smaller duties, Generals keep track of their specific ranks like an overseer. Generals are expected to monitor the training of cadets, hold meetings between members of their own ranks to ensure quality and report any issues, concerns or problems to their lieutenant and caesar. Generals are also usually summoned for their rank-expertise in times of war or when a diplomat needs an inside mind. Cadet - A rank that contains both the youth and those who are merely learning a new skill, a cadet is a moggi meant to be focused on acquiring the skills and ideals fundamental to a faction. ‘Cadets’ are generally moggi between the ages of 6 to 12 moons, though some can be assigned early and those who are re-pathed are often training late. Nester - A moggi who is nursing or caring for their own cubs and have been effectively removed from active duty. A Nester’s primary duty is to bond with their own cubs and oversee their growth with the help of a nesthand that would allow them to recover from the strain of giving birth. Nesters typically return to active duty roles when their cubs are anywhere from three to six moon old.

Cub - The youngest members of the faction, anyone beneath the age of six moons by default although some are held back in this rank. A cub’s only job is to enjoy their lives, embrace the values of their faction and thinking about what role they would begin to train in upon being assigned an instructor. 

Then there are the roles taken after the completion of training - the lifeblood of the factions and what keeps them running. These positions are what most will think of when they hear ‘valorant,’ and make up the bulk of a moggi’s life:

Guard - The protectors and fighters of a faction that are typically responsible for border defense and are the moggi sent on war patrols. Guards are also the primary defense against the various large predators that inhabit or cross into Empire territory. One of the most popular ranks among cubs due to the glorified nature of legendary fights and the higher chance of entering the Garden of Heroes due to incredible exploits.

Hunter - Those who provide food to the faction, hunters can catch far beyond the basics of small rodents and the occasional bird; trained in the art of hunt they learn to track migratory patterns of prey, the nesting habits of local birds and any plagues or sicknesses afflicting them. The most skilled of hunters are granted the honor of becoming one of the hunters to bring down major prey to be dispersed and shared during the Kirkyard Meetings.

Denwright - Crafter and decorators, the denwrights are responsible or the various technologies in the Empire - from simple baskets and bowls, to fences, to den construction and so on. They’re a rank often forgotten about when cubs are considering their pathways given the lack of glory but denwrights are considered the most creative minds a faction can have. 

Nesthand - Those who find their calling in caring for cubs and their parents, Nesthand is considered the most understated rank despite its importance, made to memorize the prefixes and suffixes standard to each faction alongside their meanings and association to provide to prospective parents. They care for orphaned cubs, are wet-nurses for moggi who are struggling to produce milk, give parents breaks and also act as assistants to the starmenders during labor. 

These positions of the empire are where most of the divergence in the roles of the factions begin, where the most branching off and specialization occurs. After that however is another position:

Veteran - The rank for any valorant that has finished their service to their nation and will now live out the rest of their days in a form of peace. Given it's something of a catchall term for those relieved of active duty, most veterans - especially recently retied ones - will have a secondary duty as they slowly transition to a life of relaxing, many of them preferring to continue being active in some way.

[the-world-of-ignavus]

Greenwood Empire - The Eternal Falls

“With all the evils you’ve committed Redfray, bind-breaker and mad-tom, may you be caught in the tide of life and dragged clear over the Falls.”

The afterlife for the Greenwood Empire is depicted as one, enormous mountain-side that contains the River of Life. It cascades down the various levels, creating various pools to be enjoyed or abhorred by the spirits that live around them. Each of the levels (excluding the Abyss) have tunnels that lead deeper into the Eternal Falls, opening up into the various territories that spirits live out their lives in. 

There are five levels in the Eternal Falls and the better a life you lived, the higher up you come into the falls.

| | | |

The Garden of Heroes

The highest and most sought after level in the Eternal Falls is the Garden of Heroes, said to contain only the greatest and bravest that the Empire have ever produced. It’s a peaceful place the closest to the origin of the River of Life, filled with various warm pools of water that are always teeming with small fish. The ground is covered in lush, soft grass with small, brilliant flowers and delicious berries in easily accessible places.

Moggi of the Garden are free to travel in and out as they see freely, capable of traveling directly to the Garden through tunnels that seem to shift and move to accommodate their destination. Garden moggi also have the distinct difference of having God-Forms, retaining the appearance of power and regality possessed during the final burning of their lives though they can turn the form on and off at will. 

| | | |

The Elysian Meadow

The level below the Garden of Heroes and where most decent souls end up in the afterlife, the Elysian Meadow is littered with rivers and streams of various sizes as the River of Light branches and splits New souls enter the Elysian Meadows at the bottom of the rivers from the living and swim their way to the top, climbing out of the various streams where those who are close to or fond of them are usually drawn for their birth. While there are no official borders in the Meadows, cats often divide themselves among the territories that they prefer the most.

The Elysian Meadows is full of gentle blue grass that grows up to a cat’s hocks with the spaces between the rivers being somewhat moist. The wettest of locations is the Rebirthing Streams, a place where most of the rivers and streams run alongside each other creating a marshy, waterlogged area not unlike Fenn territory is in the living world. There are scattered collections of woodlands, often only big enough to happily satisfy one or two families though cats have remarked that each patch grows a little in size with every new face that chooses to stay. 

| | | |

The Glade of the Undecided

On the level beneath the Elysian Meadows is the Glade of the Undecided. The glade has tunnels from all parts of the Eternal Falls allowing cats from all parts of the Eternal Falls to enter and moreover, there are tunnels within the glade that lead outside of the falls making it a perfect gathering place for those who wish to meet each other from other walks of afterlife. The Glade of the Undecided also contains The Pool of Memories, a massive lake that when doven into, can allow a cat to relive the lives of the various cats who have perished.

The Glade of the Undecided is for cats with a complex history or warring heart - it’s not uncommon for those who have been manipulated into committing horrible crimes to end up in The Glade until they can decide whether to walk their own paths or to continue following their manipulator farther into darkness. Spirits tend to to be washed down the River of Life and left on the shores of the glade where they will be confronted with a Reckoner - a cat whom had a profound connection to or influence on the spirit in question. Often these will be cats whom the spirit has committed some sort of crime of transgression against. Reckoners will lead their spirit into the Pool of Memories, showing them how that spirit affected them in their life and forcing them to reflect on how they behaved - some cats, depending on the conflict and affect have multiple Reckoners.  Some cats come away from their meeting with the Reckoners a changed, remorseful cat and are allowed passage into the Elysian Meadows while others who remain stubborn and steadfast and washed away, falling into the Canyon.

That said, the Glade is also where cats who’ve finally seen the error of their ways and find themselves remorse can emerge from the Canyons, now content to roam through the tall grass and sparse trees mostly on their own. 

The Glade is also where a caesar will start the hunt for their additional lives, using the many tunnels to access the various spirits that could be hiding for them. 

| | | |

The Canyon

One of the lowest tiers in the Eternal Falls and where the River of Life starts drying up, the Canyons are where the cruel scum of the earth members of the Empire are washed ashore. Here the plants are in a perpetually dead state, with red grass and blackened bushes like a fire swept through ages ago. There are still flowers here, various little blossoms speckled throughout the dried, sandy land and diseased looking prey lurks through the brush. The Canyons are also the only place where there are ‘predators’ - that is, shadowy beasts that often take the forms of wolves, boar, elk or even snakes to chase the most unfortunate souls until they’ve collapsed from exhaustion. Spirits that die within the canyons to one of the shadow-beasts do not die and reform elsewhere to continue the eternal nightmare.

As the canyons are meant to be a place of remorse as much as they are a punishment for one’s actions, those who encounter others aren’t forbidden from staying close. In fact, it’s communicating with other individuals who have been banished to the Canyons that often births the meeting-your-maker moment of realization in these cats and implores them to seek some form of redemption or at least allow guilt and shame to take hold of them. These cats can often be found within the tunnels of the Canyon, trapped and unable to cross the invisible border that would free them. Those who have truly felt remorse and have a desire to change in their hearts will be released to The Glade so that they may begin the next steps to redemption.

| | | |

The Abyss of the Lost

The darkest and most miserable place in the Eternal Falls… a place often not even talked about with cubs and that many even forget exists, The Abyss of the Lost is for spirits who have past the point of ever being redeemed. Time in the Canyons can change a cat if they remain trapped in their own hatred, prejudice and malice for other lifeforms. Their bodies tend to grow larger in size though they begin steadily losing their mortal shape to the point where no form of miasma or energy can disguise their horrid inner selves.

The Abyss is the lowest part of the Eternal Falls you can reach, requiring that a cat actually finds themselves dragged from even the Canyons by the shadow-beasts and tossed over. It is a completely desolate land of hardened ground and red sand with nothing but sheer cliffs in every direction - the bottom of the Falls. Spirits of the Abyss are known as The Banished or The Lost and they often spend their entire afterlives climbing back up the sides of the Falls in an attempt to reach the Canyons once more or violently fighting one another.

Every once in a while, one of the Banished received assistance from a canyon dweller in returning to their own stomping ground - it rarely ends well for the spirits trapped there.

[the-world-of-ignavus]

Healing and Medicines: Intravenous Therapy (IVs)

Due to how I handled the Cinderpaws/Ember situation, I realized I needed a way to treat a cat who is unconscious for long periods of time and is unable to receive food or water or nutrients. That led me down the path of doing a little bit of poking my head into the invention of the IV.

I'm not going to even pretend to fully understand the entire process, but I think I have a general schematic for it.

For the needle, I am using a reed or a bamboo rod that is dipped in gold to prevent splintering or the worse of the absorption on the tip. It should be noted that in Ignavus, the Tayilivina have hollow quills that could be used similarly and probably have been albeit, the barbless varieties are preferred because the barbed ones would tear up the skin badly even if it would hold it in place.

The bag would be a simple waterskin pouch or a cleaned animal bladder, given I confirmed the existence of leather tanning and stuff already, though if anyone else has a better idea, I'm open to suggestions. The first one created in real life was made with a pig-bladder and a quill.

The flexible tubing will be made of natural rubber which can be tapped from trees, poured into a mold with a solid golden rod in the center that is later removed to create the opening.

[the-world-of-ignavus]

Empire Names: THE DISGRACED - MARKED AND CURSED

In addition to the names granted to valorants in the name of the gods to display honor and greatness, there are also a set of names that can be used to exhibit punishment and make it clear to others that a moggi has committed some form of crime. The Marked are often those who’ve broken an important rule of the guidelines and have thus because Bindbreakers.

BILE - Vile

A name affixed to those who turn their backs on the story of Piyothima the Lost Cub and commit a betrayal or cruelty against one’s own littermates though it has also been been for someone who has committed a crime against Mayazzo’s teachings to a lesser degree than an outright bindbreaker. Although, this title is often used as a softener, within the borders of Tayilivina given their prioritization of Mayaazo, this is considered a very serious mark.

BITTER - Sour

A name affixed to those who have turned their backs on Mayaazo’s teachings and are neglectful, aggressive or abusive towards their kin. As she holds a domain in revenge and is known to be fiercely protective, the entire Empire is always on edge when it comes to crossing Mayaazo’s line.

BLEAK - Laze

A name primarily given posthumously to ineffectual and uninvolved caesars, a remark on their lack of effort in assisting their faction in reaching greatness. It is very rare that this affix is given to a non-caesar but such reasoning could be from valorants who lead half-hearted battles, lecturers that don’t teach truly or even diplomats who do not put their all into a deal as Aloŕazo demands. 

FESTER - Scorn(ed)

A name mantled upon those who turn their backs upon the word and wisdom of Milolazo - cowards and traitors are the primary reciprocants of this heavy burden of a name but it can also be placed if someone is agreed to be the complete antithesis of a valorant of the Empire. This is one the most serious marked names a moggi can receive and often, those who receive this name have their claws or their canine teeth removed.

PEAK - No Alternatives

A name assigned to those who fall into the pawsteps of the Banished One, the old leader of the fallen faction, acting with cruelty and selfishness at every potential turn. These are often granted to caesars who abuse their powers or neglect their responsibility to ensuring the survival of their factions.

REND - Splinter

A name assigned to those who have offended Nichazo, committing acts such as breaking oaths and grave-robbing. Nichazo also holds a particular distaste for false prophets using their name to enact policies or rules in direct contradiction of their teachings.

ROT - Wilt

A name forced upon those who turn their backs upon Tayaazo and her lessons who most frequently end up being fallen healers - those who choose to use the power of healing to further harm, manipulate or extort those in need of their services.

SMOTHER - Cruel

One of the most commonly affixed marks after 'Waste,' used to identify a moggi who themselves have not done any true wrongdoing or crime but have stood by or accepted evils happening around them often to attain some form of benefit for themselves or because it would be inconvenient to them to speak up about them.

STAGNANT - Still

One of the most commonly affixed marks after 'Waste,' used to identify a moggi who themselves have not done any true wrongdoing or crime but have stood by or accepted evils happening around them often to attain some form of benefit for themselves or because it would be inconvenient to them to speak up about them.

WASTE - No Alternatives

The most commonly given affix for a moggi to shoulder, ranging from a temporary mantle of shame to an extremely serious indicator of wrong-doing, this is given to those who turn their backs on Kaŕozo's lessons and overhunt, needlessly take another creature's life or eat more than their share during a famine. Natisilapo takes this to a new level with a solidified system of how the 'waste' affix is applied, to who and for how long.

[the-world-of-ignavus]

The Olden Tongue: Kinsmur

From the exploration squad that left the mountains that would one day become the Greenwood Empire came the language of Kinstalk - a language still spoken by the Saultkin and their not-so-far neighbors and the Seiskin in the modern day. But this language came into contact with the various lone-travelers located at the base of the mountain - mongrel and moggi alike. This contact resulted in a few more changes that truly began the first changes towards what would one day be known as the language of the Greenwood Empire and almost surprisingly to some, the language of the nomads.

Sound Changes

Word final consonants (barring fricatives) are lost

Intervocalic /θ/ become /h/

Word final /e/ opens to /a/

Intervocalic voiced velar plosive /g/ is de-voiced to /k/

Word final vowel clusters simplify to the second vowel

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Phonotactics List

Onset - n s h f y rr r m k sh ny w th v t p

H Clusters: hr hw 

Nucleus: rr r w f v s n ny h sh ch p m t

Final Vowels - a i o u

Vowel Clusters: aa ii

Coda - f v s sh

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Word Order

Primary - SVO | Subject Verb Object

Ma haka in rriti “I hunted the bird”

Secondary - SOV | Subject Object Verb

Noun - Adjectives | Narru nara (river white (white river))

Noun - Number | Lo yu (rocks two (two rocks))

Noun - Genitives | Maa fes fiwa (whisker of mother (mother’s whiskers))

Noun - Relative Clauses |

Adjective - Adverb | Serrifi (strongly)

Yes/No Particles  | Post-Sentence

Question Words - Post-Sentence

Proper Noun - Common Noun |

Modifier Order 

Modifier Example

Compounds | Noun-Adjective (forest = tree.place)

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Noun Cases

The budding display of noun cases that had begun in Kinstalk became official here:

Accusative (-ko): In paa’ra haa in maŕoko (the dog carries the cat) Locative (-fa): In paa’rafa na in maŕo (the runs towards/at the cat) Instrumental (-osa): In paa’raosa erra thi sho (the dog smells with/using their nose)

Alongside picking up a handful of cases from the nearby forming and deconstructing Republics:

Genitive (-no): In paa’rano hwi (the dog’s elk/elk of the dog) Ablative (-va): In paa’rava na in maŕova (the dog runs away from the cat)

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Tense and Aspect

Though Kinstalk had managed to evolve both a distant past and a distant future, but sound changes cause a little bit of conflict. When word final consonants dropped, the near-perfective and imperfective became the same, as did the near future.

This example uses the word, yesa (to sleep) to demonstrate this new-found information

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Developing Honorifics

Contact with the Republics and the local Cabal - alongside nomadic packs - has encouraged a sense of respect and authority to sink into the pronouns used by the speakers of Kinsmur. For now, they’re mostly imitating the system that had already formed by the Republics, creating three levels of respect - lower, equal and higher.

Unlike the Republics and Cabal who have developed a firm honorific system, Kinsmur is currently using the augmentative (his-) to denote greatness or importance when they wish to speak as if they’re above someone. 

Hisma - I/me, of great respect vs. Ma - I/me

And a diminutive is used to make the words smaller and less severe:

Wima - I/me, of no threat vs. Ma, I/me

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[the-world-of-ignavus]

The Greenwood Empire: The Five Sacrifices

The Greenwood Empire are a ferocious and powerful group that celebrates and glorifies the struggles that come with living attuned to their ways, to the point that orbiting around the solid laws of their charter and faction specific cultural expectations are the Five Sacrifices.  A valorant’s life is all about sacrifice and so, there are five expected sacrifices said to be looked upon favorably by the aazoli.

1. The Sacrifice of Preference

The smallest tier of sacrifice and considered one of the first that anyone in the Empire learns as a cub. The Sacrifice of Preference is often encouraged in the form of sharing prey, nests or even den-space with the understanding that joy and happiness being expressed by another is enough to satisfy any desire that could be used to express selfish behavior. 

2. The Sacrifice of Need 

The first of the harsher sacrifices of the Empire valorants, the second sacrifice is to give up some form of bodily need for another to preserve their life or simply because it’s obvious they need it more. This is often expressed through caesars who allow themselves to go hungry while their faction eats during a famine, water granted to other factions during a drought or sharing herbs during some form of outbreak. 

3. The Sacrifice of Honor

The third sacrifice of a valorant is to lay down your morals or values, to cross some form of personal line or belief in the name of a brighter future for another or to prevent one that you care for from having do as such. The Mimaŕanil role of the Executioner exists specifically for this reason, with the executioner dirtying their own claws and muzzles with the blood of someone unable to resist in exchange for their caesar’s claws and paws staying clean though this is not exclusive to them.

4. The Sacrifice of Freedom

The fourth sacrifice is to relinquish your choices or desires for the greater good - not just a sacrifice in honor of one cat or even a few, but rather a sacrifice for the good of an entire faction or even the empire as a whole. This can take many forms such as surrendering to a foreboding enemy for the continued survival of your patrol, giving up opportunities for a mate and cubs, or in the case of a Calling, the sacrifice of what you’d prefer to do with your life in exchange for the averting of a faction-wide crisis. 

5. The Sacrifice of Life

The one true sacrifice all valorants are expected to make from the moment they earn their full names and onward, even after retirement - the Fifth Sacrifice is that of one’s life. Life in the Empire is far from easy, willfully turning away from certain ‘easier’ solutions and living between the horrors that emerge from the Vastweild, pirates and raiders, alongside their horribly bloody history - the chances that someone will die in battle or from illness or famine is far higher than a peaceful death in sleep. And this is the sacrifice meant to be honored and celebrated.