Fallen Feathers -A Chicken Roleplay

[Amer]

(Like any good roleplay, this starts at sunrise!)

 

[Amer]

Soft golden light shone through the lush branches, turning each green leaf pale gold, though it would last only for an hour.
All good things come to an end. Just like Owl did.
Feathers stirred in her cozy nest. Soft black feathers lined the edges, and though the warmth held her like a captive, she knew it would soon turn into a blistering day. Might as well enjoy it while the weather was still kind to fluffy birds like herself.
Usually Feathers was up later than the other birds, in part because of the darkness of her nest, but also because of her taxing duties. However, today, she had a brief break between clutches, and it was a brighter day than most.
Today, many chickens were still roosting.
She glanced back at her empty nest in reminiscence, knowing it would soon be full to the brim with eggs. I wonder how many empty nests I have left, she thought. Not many. She would have to choose an heir. Someone to tell her stories.
Not Starling or Sapphire, she would never make the same mistake again, forcing one of her own children into responsibilities that would put them in the light of controversy. No. She needed a different kind of hen. A wise one. Who wouldn't make mistakes. If only there was such a hen.
As she stood under the shadow of the Roosting Tree she felt the shadow of responsibility weighing heavily on her back, shadows of each roosting chicken falling over her. So she stepped into the light, out into the freedom of pretending she wasn't the perpetrator of all of this madness.

 

[danceswithronin]

Daybreak awoke with a shiver and a start from a dream of crashing waves, thunder and lighting, and Men shouting. He puffed up his feathers in remembrance. In his dream, all was darkness and chaos, his final memories of the journey that had landed him on the island. Those memories had not faded in the few weeks since he had washed ashore, but they were starting to become blurry, less distinct.

He was far out on one of the lowest and thinner branches of the Roosting Tree, part of the flock but still apart, still figuring out his place. His branch would not have held any other chickens, but was thick enough to support his wiry frame.

The arrival of the sun caused the urge to crow to fill his chest like a rising tide, but he swallowed the compulsion and began to silently preen instead, the sunrise flickering off his white and black plumage. Once his feathers were gleaming, he flew down to the base of the Roosting Tree. Most of the chickens of the flock were still sleeping, and he had half a mind to strike out into the undergrowth before it got too hot, and find somewhere, anywhere to dip his beak.

There was a creek in the territory, and it appeared to have once been wide with running water. But there had been no rain since Daybreak tumbled onto the island's shores, half-drowned with the poison water that would not slake your thirst but make you sick and crazy instead. Now the creek bed was mostly dry, reduced to muddy rills that tasted heavily of silt, but at least it was fresh water.

There had to be water somewhere else other than the creek, somewhere further than the territory of the Flock. He was sure of it. But he was also sure there was plenty of things in the jungle beyond that would happily eat a half-grown cockerel if they got the chance. So the idea of venturing out alone was not particularly appealing. But since he was still new to the flock, neither was the idea of soliciting help or advice from the others. Not yet. From what he had gathered in the short time since he had stumbled across the flock foraging (and what a miracle that was, like a mirage to his sea-addled brain) they had lived here on the island as long as they could remember. They didn't know Man, at least that Daybreak could tell. They didn't know cages, they had only known freedom. It was hard for him to relate. And hard for him to say the things that would make them understand. So he kept to himself.

He stood in the shade of the Roosting Tree and stared into the opposite direction of the dying creek towards the jungle and the unknown beyond the flock's range, thirsty and indecisive.

Dangerous or not, the creek won't last much longer.

 

[Thing2]

Soft golden light shone through the lush branches, turning each green leaf pale gold, though it would last only for an hour.
All good things come to an end. Just like Owl did.
Feathers stirred in her cozy nest. Soft black feathers lined the edges, and though the warmth held her like a captive, she knew it would soon turn into a blistering day. Might as well enjoy it while the weather was still kind to fluffy birds like herself.
Usually Feathers was up later than the other birds, in part because of the darkness of her nest, but also because of her taxing duties. However, today, she had a brief break between clutches, and it was a brighter day than most.
Today, many chickens were still roosting.
She glanced back at her empty nest in reminiscence, knowing it would soon be full to the brim with eggs. I wonder how many empty nests I have left, she thought. Not many. She would have to choose an heir. Someone to tell her stories.
Not Starling or Sapphire, she would never make the same mistake again, forcing one of her own children into responsibilities that would put them in the light of controversy. No. She needed a different kind of hen. A wise one. Who wouldn't make mistakes. If only there was such a hen.
As she stood under the shadow of the Roosting Tree she felt the shadow of responsibility weighing heavily on her back, shadows of each roosting chicken falling over her. So she stepped into the light, out into the freedom of pretending she wasn't the perpetrator of all of this madness.

Daybreak awoke with a shiver and a start from a dream of crashing waves, thunder and lighting, and Men shouting. He puffed up his feathers in remembrance. In his dream, all was darkness and chaos, his final memories of the journey that had landed him on the island. Those memories had not faded in the few weeks since he had washed ashore, but they were starting to become blurry, less distinct.

He was far out on one of the lowest and thinner branches of the Roosting Tree, part of the flock but still apart, still figuring out his place. His branch would not have held any other chickens, but was thick enough to support his wiry frame.

The arrival of the sun caused the urge to crow to fill his chest like a rising tide, but he swallowed the compulsion and began to silently preen instead, the sunrise flickering off his white and black plumage. Once his feathers were gleaming, he flew down to the base of the Roosting Tree. Most of the chickens of the flock were still sleeping, and he had half a mind to strike out into the undergrowth before it got too hot, and find somewhere, anywhere to dip his beak.

There was a creek in the territory, and it appeared to have once been wide with running water. But there had been no rain since Daybreak tumbled onto the island's shores, half-drowned with the poison water that would not slake your thirst but make you sick and crazy instead. Now the creek bed was mostly dry, reduced to muddy rills that tasted heavily of silt, but at least it was fresh water.

There had to be water somewhere else other than the creek, somewhere further than the territory of the Flock. He was sure of it. But he was also sure there was plenty of things in the jungle beyond that would happily eat a half-grown cockerel if they got the chance. So the idea of venturing out alone was not particularly appealing. But since he was still new to the flock, neither was the idea of soliciting help or advice from the others. Not yet. From what he had gathered in the short time since he had stumbled across the flock foraging (and what a miracle that was, like a mirage to his sea-addled brain) they had lived here on the island as long as they could remember. They didn't know Man, at least that Daybreak could tell. They didn't know cages, they had only known freedom. It was hard for him to relate. And hard for him to say the things that would make them understand. So he kept to himself.

He stood in the shade of the Roosting Tree and stared into the opposite direction of the dying creek towards the jungle and the unknown beyond the flock's range, thirsty and indecisive.

Dangerous or not, the creek won't last much longer.

Amber woke to a beam of light shining directly into her left eye. “Aww, darn it...” she mumbled sleepily, burrowing her face deeper under her wing in an attempt to deny the fact that it was morning. Finally she grumpily lifted her head and preened her feathers into a more presentable state before gliding silently to the ground. She was congratulating herself on her smooth landing when she noticed Daybreak standing alone at the edge of the Roosting Tree’s shadow. She still didn’t know much about the newcomer and wanted to get to know him, as he was close to her age, but she hadn’t gotten a chance yet. Maybe this is my chance. “Hi, good morning.” She clucked quietly, coming up next to him.

 

[Amer]

Daybreak awoke with a shiver and a start from a dream of crashing waves, thunder and lighting, and Men shouting. He puffed up his feathers in remembrance. In his dream, all was darkness and chaos, his final memories of the journey that had landed him on the island. Those memories had not faded in the few weeks since he had washed ashore, but they were starting to become blurry, less distinct.

He was far out on one of the lowest and thinner branches of the Roosting Tree, part of the flock but still apart, still figuring out his place. His branch would not have held any other chickens, but was thick enough to support his wiry frame.

The arrival of the sun caused the urge to crow to fill his chest like a rising tide, but he swallowed the compulsion and began to silently preen instead, the sunrise flickering off his white and black plumage. Once his feathers were gleaming, he flew down to the base of the Roosting Tree. Most of the chickens of the flock were still sleeping, and he had half a mind to strike out into the undergrowth before it got too hot, and find somewhere, anywhere to dip his beak.

There was a creek in the territory, and it appeared to have once been wide with running water. But there had been no rain since Daybreak tumbled onto the island's shores, half-drowned with the poison water that would not slake your thirst but make you sick and crazy instead. Now the creek bed was mostly dry, reduced to muddy rills that tasted heavily of silt, but at least it was fresh water.

There had to be water somewhere else other than the creek, somewhere further than the territory of the Flock. He was sure of it. But he was also sure there was plenty of things in the jungle beyond that would happily eat a half-grown cockerel if they got the chance. So the idea of venturing out alone was not particularly appealing. But since he was still new to the flock, neither was the idea of soliciting help or advice from the others. Not yet. From what he had gathered in the short time since he had stumbled across the flock foraging (and what a miracle that was, like a mirage to his sea-addled brain) they had lived here on the island as long as they could remember. They didn't know Man, at least that Daybreak could tell. They didn't know cages, they had only known freedom. It was hard for him to relate. And hard for him to say the things that would make them understand. So he kept to himself.

He stood in the shade of the Roosting Tree and stared into the opposite direction of the dying creek towards the jungle and the unknown beyond the flock's range, thirsty and indecisive.

Dangerous or not, the creek won't last much longer.

Amber woke to a beam of light shining directly into her left eye. “Aww, darn it...” she mumbled sleepily, burrowing her face deeper under her wing in an attempt to deny the fact that it was morning. Finally she grumpily lifted her head and preened her feathers into a more presentable state before gliding silently to the ground. She was congratulating herself on her smooth landing when she noticed Daybreak standing alone at the edge of the Roosting Tree’s shadow. She still didn’t know much about the newcomer and wanted to get to know him, as he was close to her age, but she hadn’t gotten a chance yet. Maybe this is my chance. “Hi, good morning.” She clucked quietly, coming up next to him.

Turtle tumbled disgracefully off the bottom branch of the tree when he saw the other chickens flap to the ground. He panicked for a second. Am I late? Is there somewhere I should be? Did I sleep until noon again?
Turtle grimaced. This had earned him relentless teasing from Mockingbird, his sister. A chicken who didn't wake up early enough! He was a disgrace to society!
Wait, that's Daybreak and Amber. Those two chickens I want to talk to! In the same place! This is too much!
He was older than them, but still very intimidated. Daybreak was baffling. Where did he come from? How had Men brought him here? Were they coming back? Turtle was dying to talk to him.
And Amber, she was nice to everyone she talked to. Unlike her hatchmate, that awful Climax fellow. There was no way they could be related. Some nasty chicken's egg must have gotten mixed in.
Oh, I can't talk to them. I'll make an absolute fool of myself. Think friendly and inquisitive...
Turtle walked slowly into the clearing, carefully not to trip. He tried not to notice that his legs were literally half the other two's heights. Yup. Twice as tall as them. Not awkward at all.
Like any good dad Turtle stalked up behind them and his shadow fell over the both of him. He winced when what slipped out was a somewhat creepy, over happy, "Now how was your two days going, huh?"

 

[Amer]

As the sun hit him near the top of the tree, Climax looked down to see all the chickens below him sleeping. This was an absolutely beautiful feeling. Feeling suddenly giddy, Climax raised his head, letting the light momentarily blind him as he let out a loud, beautiful crow. A mightily earth-shaking one, if I do say so myself.
Being too large to just fly out of the tree, Climax hopped a few branches down before fluttering the rest of the way.
"Honestly, Amber, you deserve better than him," his wing gesture was to vague for you to tell if he was pointing at Turtle or Daybreak.
Probably me, Turtle realized. All of the sudden, he was the same size as the other two chickens.
Mood properly ruined by even setting his eyes on those two... pheasants, Climax stalked away, his tail swagger infuriating to watch.
Turtle seethed with a rare surge of anger.

 

[danceswithronin]

“Hi, good morning.”

Daybreak turned to look at the hen who had softly addressed him. He recognized her but didn't know her name, he had not talked to the pullets or hens much since he arrived. In his life before he had always been caged alone in groups with other roosters who were caged alone. He knew hens existed, he heard them sometimes, but he didn't have much direct experience.

The truth was he recognized her because he'd barely been able to take his eyes off the hens since he arrived, any of them. It was so surreal that they just walked amongst the roosters and cockerels freely comingling. But he had been raised for a fighting ring, not in a flock. He had rarely even seen a glimpse of hens since he was a very young chick, much less had a chance to talk to them. So he was not really sure how to act.

"Good morning," he replied, saying the only thing that readily came to mind. "I'm trying to decide between looking for a drink or doing a rain dance," he said, cocking an eye at the hazy sky above them, already growing hot. He tried to keep his voice light, but he couldn't help feeling a bit of hidden anxiety. He knew thirst. He thought when he first washed up on shore that he had landed in some kind of paradise. But water - they had to have it. Everything revolved around it.

Before he could gauge whether his response had come off as smooth or whining, another cockerel tumbled out of the Roosting Tree nearby in a flump of feathers and legs and wings. Daybreak heard the ruckus but did not turn his head, not wanting to embarrass whoever had fallen out of the roost.

A shadow fell over them. "Now how was your two days going, huh?"

Daybreak turned to face the other rooster. "Just planning an expedition. Or a ritual. We can't decide."

Their conversation was interrupted by the crow of the lead rooster from the top of the tree. Or at least Daybreak thought he was the lead rooster - every rooster crowed where he came from, all of them yelling their war cries over the others. Since no other roosters had crowed but this one, Daybreak assumed he was important, though he hadn't had the opportunity to talk to him before - he'd skirted the flock carefully the first few weeks he was here, regaining his strength and watching them, ready to flee at the first sign of being rousted. But Climax, their leader, had largely deigned to acknowledge him - until now.

The larger rooster hopped down and looked them over. "Honestly, Amber, you deserve better than him."

Her name is Amber.

Daybreak puffed up slightly and looked at Climax. His first instinct was to strut, to push the other cock into a fight. But he hadn't been with the flock very long, and even though no one had explicitly told him so, he was sure his acceptance was on the grounds that he not cause trouble or disrupt the pecking order. He certainly wasn't high enough in it to be making waves over a petty squabble.

So he swallowed his pride and said nothing as the larger rooster stalked off. Only when he thought Climax was out of earshot, Daybreak mumbled, "Show me your crow when you can call rain."

 

[RoostersAreAwesome]

Name: Frosty
Age: 5 moons
Gender: Male
Rank: Cockerel
Physical Attributes: Has OEGB, cochin, and sebright in him. Just a little bigger than an OEGB. Lightly feathered pink legs.

Personality: Talks too much, gets distracted easily, nosy, friendly, a bit naive, clever when he wants to be, tells jokes that only make sense to him, acts perpetually cheerful to cover up sadness
History: His father died of disease, his mother was killed by a predator. Raised by a stern broody (probably Sapphire), his brother disappeared soon after his father died.
Family: Dead and presumed dead
Mate/crush: Nope
Chicks: Nope
Other:
Username: @RoostersAreAwesome

 

[Thing2]

Turtle tumbled disgracefully off the bottom branch of the tree when he saw the other chickens flap to the ground. He panicked for a second. Am I late? Is there somewhere I should be? Did I sleep until noon again?
Turtle grimaced. This had earned him relentless teasing from Mockingbird, his sister. A chicken who didn't wake up early enough! He was a disgrace to society!
Wait, that's Daybreak and Amber. Those two chickens I want to talk to! In the same place! This is too much!
He was older than them, but still very intimidated. Daybreak was baffling. Where did he come from? How had Men brought him here? Were they coming back? Turtle was dying to talk to him.
And Amber, she was nice to everyone she talked to. Unlike her hatchmate, that awful Climax fellow. There was no way they could be related. Some nasty chicken's egg must have gotten mixed in.
Oh, I can't talk to them. I'll make an absolute fool of myself. Think friendly and inquisitive...
Turtle walked slowly into the clearing, carefully not to trip. He tried not to notice that his legs were literally half the other two's heights. Yup. Twice as tall as them. Not awkward at all.
Like any good dad Turtle stalked up behind them and his shadow fell over the both of him. He winced when what slipped out was a somewhat creepy, over happy, "Now how was your two days going, huh?"

As the sun hit him near the top of the tree, Climax looked down to see all the chickens below him sleeping. This was an absolutely beautiful feeling. Feeling suddenly giddy, Climax raised his head, letting the light momentarily blind him as he let out a loud, beautiful crow. A mightily earth-shaking one, if I do say so myself.
Being too large to just fly out of the tree, Climax hopped a few branches down before fluttering the rest of the way.
"Honestly, Amber, you deserve better than him," his wing gesture was to vague for you to tell if he was pointing at Turtle or Daybreak.
Probably me, Turtle realized. All of the sudden, he was the same size as the other two chickens.
Mood properly ruined by even setting his eyes on those two... pheasants, Climax stalked away, his tail swagger infuriating to watch.
Turtle seethed with a rare surge of anger.

“Hi, good morning.”

Daybreak turned to look at the hen who had softly addressed him. He recognized her but didn't know her name, he had not talked to the pullets or hens much since he arrived. In his life before he had always been caged alone in groups with other roosters who were caged alone. He knew hens existed, he heard them sometimes, but he didn't have much direct experience.

The truth was he recognized her because he'd barely been able to take his eyes off the hens since he arrived, any of them. It was so surreal that they just walked amongst the roosters and cockerels freely comingling. But he had been raised for a fighting ring, not in a flock. He had rarely even seen a glimpse of hens since he was a very young chick, much less had a chance to talk to them. So he was not really sure how to act.

"Good morning," he replied, saying the only thing that readily came to mind. "I'm trying to decide between looking for a drink or doing a rain dance," he said, cocking an eye at the hazy sky above them, already growing hot. He tried to keep his voice light, but he couldn't help feeling a bit of hidden anxiety. He knew thirst. He thought when he first washed up on shore that he had landed in some kind of paradise. But water - they had to have it. Everything revolved around it.

Before he could gauge whether his response had come off as smooth or whining, another cockerel tumbled out of the Roosting Tree nearby in a flump of feathers and legs and wings. Daybreak heard the ruckus but did not turn his head, not wanting to embarrass whoever had fallen out of the roost.

A shadow fell over them. "Now how was your two days going, huh?"

Daybreak turned to face the other rooster. "Just planning an expedition. Or a ritual. We can't decide."

Their conversation was interrupted by the crow of the lead rooster from the top of the tree. Or at least Daybreak thought he was the lead rooster - every rooster crowed where he came from, all of them yelling their war cries over the others. Since no other roosters had crowed but this one, Daybreak assumed he was important, though he hadn't had the opportunity to talk to him before - he'd skirted the flock carefully the first few weeks he was here, regaining his strength and watching them, ready to flee at the first sign of being rousted. But Climax, their leader, had largely deigned to acknowledge him - until now.

The larger rooster hopped down and looked them over. "Honestly, Amber, you deserve better than him."

Her name is Amber.

Daybreak puffed up slightly and looked at Climax. His first instinct was to strut, to push the other cock into a fight. But he hadn't been with the flock very long, and even though no one had explicitly told him so, he was sure his acceptance was on the grounds that he not cause trouble or disrupt the pecking order. He certainly wasn't high enough in it to be making waves over a petty squabble.

So he swallowed his pride and said nothing as the larger rooster stalked off. Only when he thought Climax was out of earshot, Daybreak mumbled, "Show me your crow when you can call rain."

Amber had opened her beak to respond to Daybreak when someone loomed over them. She jumped when Turtle spoke, whirling around and pecking the air near his head playfully. “Hi there! When did you wake-” Climax cut her off and she tilted her head disapprovingly at his words, watching him leave. “Thanks for watching out for me but I think I’m old enough to decide for myself who to hang out with!” She answered him jokingly and turned back to the others with a laugh, missing Daybreak’s response. “He can be annoying sometimes.” She said apologetically.

 

[Cluckcluck1215]

Dawn crashed over the lands, dying the island the colors of the sunrise. Darkness bled into violet ,violet into gray, and gray into purple, orange and yellow. Bleeding colors morphed and mixed until bright blue drenched the sky, clear yellow and orange sun hiding just behind the treeline.
A hen's eyes snapped open suddenly, her small form pressed against the thick, rough bark of a massive tree. Inane chatter filled her ears, rousing her from a peaceful sleep.
Mongoose hauled herself to her feet, shaking her brown-gold feathers. The sun was just touching the tree line, but it was enough to drench the land with dawn light. With a growl of annoyance of being awoken, the hen leapt from the tree, landing gracefully beside two idle adolescents she recognized as Turtle and Amber.
"Quit the inane chatter," Moongoose growled, amber eyes glitter. "You're waking hens who would like to sleep while the sun is just barely up."