Catalyst for Dissonance [Closed - Exxus Epilogue]

Just beyond the territories, at the fringes of the forest, past any and all clan borders... was a place to rest. It was this place that a she-cat had now found herself drifting into sleep. Even for a cat filled with raw, primal passion for draining the lives of others, feline nature was inevitable. All things needed to seek out rest. It was the way of life. But even in death, some creature still found themselves restless. It was for this reason that the moment her eyes sunk and the physical world faded out, Theron found herself facing a handsome grey and white-pelted tom.

His pelt did not shine like that of the mythical Starclan cats. Instead, it wore a dark aura, one that was bone-chilling in nature. Perhaps a lesser cat would have been struck by the way he conducted himself. Humility could not be found in such a thing. Each step towards the she-cat was filled with otherworldly self-assurance. Behind the tom was knotted and twisted foliage. It too possessed the resemblance of death. With each mangled root and branch, there were thousands more around it. Muck and filth composed the earth in which they stood on. The particular patch were both cats stood was dry as a bone. With a coat as groomed and neat, showing off the lean muscles underneath his pelt, it was hard to believe that such a cat would lower himself to this presence.

As he reached the she-cat, he settled back on his haunches and bore into her with stunning green eyes, "Well, hello there my pelt-wearing friend. Your activities have peaked the interest of both myself and my companions. It appears we hold a similar interest. Tell me... Badger Cat, do you hate the clans? Do your paws and teeth seek to destroy them?" It was obvious by his candor that he already knew the answer. The question proposed was merely rhetorical in nature, but he had to confirm it before continuing on. Had it been another from this place, they might have used more of a strategic method, one that regarded such a precious opportunity. After it, it was very rare that he spoke with a true, living being anymore. Perhaps it was the genuine hatred flowing through Theron's veins, or the events that had unfolding at highstones that let to this fleeting opportunity. The underbelly of the universe was hardly presented a moment like this. It wasn't to be taken for granted. Who know when it would happen again?

But it was important. Very important. His paws could not stall in such an endeavor, as soon as she spoke in response, even he knew there had to be haste. As soon as she spoke, he would bestow upon her a precious knowledge that could change the path of the clans and of the future. Who knew when the time would come? He could hardly say. And yet, there was no doubt they would be lying in wait when it did. All it took were some carefully picked words.

And the opportunity of a lifetime.

There was a flicker of confusion through Theron as she blinked open her eyes and took in her surroundings. She felt like she ought to be terrified of the place she found herself in, the dreadful energy the place filled. Dead, gnarled trees surrounded her and stretched up to the heavens - and peering upwards, despite it seemingly to be night, she could make out no stars in the darkness that the branches barely let through. But while she had a feeling of how she should feel...Instead, she would almost say that this place felt like home in some sense.

That only cats, like-minded like herself, would be found here. Speaking of...

Her eyes flickered from the starless heavens to the tom whose pelt seemed to bring darkness with it. She watched carefully, muscles automatically tensing at his approach lest he prove himself to be an enemy. She wouldn't be dumb - such weakness of expecting less of their enemies had cost them their victory after all. But...The way he carried himself, he didn't want to be seen as a thread, no...He wanted to be seen as a friend and she slowly relaxed as he settled down on the other side of the dry patch.

He spoke, his voice smooth and knowing and she found herself eyes narrowing. This...This was a dream, wasn't it? She knew not else how she had gotten to this darkened forest otherwise...But it was no normal dream, because otherwise she would not have acknowledged such a fact. Who was this tom, who could walk the dreams of others? Her mind jumped back to memories from long ago, of when they would speak to their ancestors...Of the Sight Seer who held such power. She had never believed such claims - of speaking with those who had died, the dead was dead. That was it. But...Perhaps, given recent events, perhaps she could believe in such stories once more. If this was the case, that she was speaking with the dead, but those who were on her side...

"I hate them with every piece of me. I would dare to say that hate isn't a strong enough word to express my feelings," she finally snarled, her tail lashing behind her. Thinking back on the moor cats, of their leader's words. Speaking of justice, honor...Blah, those things were for fools. It had gotten her ancestors nowhere before the others had realized how glorious war and conquest was. "They are cowards, weakling. The fact that they were able to kill Pakhet, to live another day...We underestimated them perhaps, but their rotten victory makes me ever so eager to come back with a true army to crush them and show them their place," she snapped, eyes glittering darkly as she paused to focus on the tom again, take him in as she waited to hear his response - to see what he, the dead, could offer her and the others. She was certain they would be able to crush them on their own...But they weren't fools.

Allies were allies, as long as they okay with the same means to the same end.

His eyes glistened with interest as she spoke of their common interest, expressing hatred for the moorrunners who had stripped her leader of what singular life she possessed. How cruel it was for cats who proclaimed themselves to righteous to be so quick to tear away the life of a cat who was simply different from them? It was how he had lost his own mortal body. They had cast away the tom for wanting to see his clan grow and thrive instead of being stepped on by other clans. After all of that, they deserved what had terrorized their lands. As he looked over Theron, there was a fire to his gaze that only grew with each word. It was as if he was looking after a tantalizing catch, one that would surely land in his paws. Eagerly, the grey and white tom's tail swept over the shadowy earth as he finally spoke, "Good. Then it seems we might be able to work together. Now, listen close, as I tell you about the forest..."

This dream, it became lengthy in nature, as the strange tom proceeded to tell her everything that there was to know. The forest was far greater than just Windclan. He spoke of Thunderclan, Shadowclan, and cats who hunted near the river, as well as those who climbed trees. His words wove tales of seasons upon seasons of tensions and traditions and lore. To a former Oasis cat, the idea of knowledge was a delicacy. He had no way of knowing how precious and dangerous this would be in her claws. But it was necessary for his own living ally to be indulged in such an understanding. Perhaps, when they returned, it would make the challenge that much greater. Perhaps, this would finally bring about the undoing of the forest. As he spoke, the grin across his maw only grew at the idea of what this would lead to. Moons of stirring about, silently forgotten, prepared him for this very moment. What a rare and beautiful thing it was. That same thought flickered through his mind as he looked at Theron and drew near.

"I have shared with you all I know, my dear. Do with it what you will. But please, whatever you do... don't let me down. Don't let them get away with what they've done to us." His past was his own to keep, but perhaps the knowledge that he too had been burned by the scathing justice of the clans was perhaps enough. He delighted in the terror that had befallen the moors, his former home, and scowled at the successful defeat of their foreign foes. With one final twist of his head, the world around faded and Theron was returned to the waking world. Her paws would carry her back from the lands in which she hailed. As a soldier, in lieu of her fallen leader, the she-cat's duty was to report what she found. He knew this. Hopefully it would be the most informative of reports after their chat.

At the offer of knowledge, Theron couldn't help but lean in with perk ears as she found herself waiting on every word he said. For all of her bloodlust, she was not a mindless creature. Far from it. They had always adored knowledge, but once while perhaps they would use it to protect others...She found it made far more sense to use it to crush cats beneath their claws. Violence was the way of the beast, it was natural and even the most peace-loving cat would no doubt fight to save their own hide. To be anything else was a comforting lie to sleep easy at night. And so she listened, eyes narrowing at the reveal that their foe had been only a fraction of their true enemy. She had gathered that there were others - the different scents that they had found. There had been other group but the details, their history... Perhaps she would have underestimated their foe - they had not gathered enough intelligence before they had been defeated. And yet fate had shined upon them to deliver this knowledge, confirming what she had assumed to be so.

She listened, to the stories of their past, of how they fought and what she could expect from each of the different... Clans, as they were so called. While tensions seemed to always be high among the cats, they would band together to save them. It would be hard to take them out one by one, a big enough force would be needed to handle a true army of cats if they called upon aid and it was delivered. But if they could use the Clan's past, their misdeeds and misgivings toward each other to weaken their trust in each other before they worked to dismantle them pelt by pelt...Perhaps. She waited, storing all of the knowledge and separating which would be useful and which was simple fluff that was of no aid. Finally, the tales of her foe came to an end. "Of course," she purred with a grin. "These Clans will rue the day they chose to fight us instead of bowing to our might."

And with that. She awoken, blinking at the morning light that was crested over the hill. She still had long to go but she laid there, surprise at the knowledge that she still remained. It truly wasn't a dream after all, recalling the details with almost clarity as she got to her paws and yowled for her two companions to stir awake - having managed to find Dae and their peltkeeper in the chaos. She wouldn't tell them of her information - it was knowledge to be shared with their leader first and foremost...And once they were awake, she turned and led them into the hills.

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"...We had stumbled across a pack of cats, living on a moor. They were speedy, not very strong but could make up the lack of damage with fast blows and quick movements. While we spent most of our time interacting with just this group, attacking them when we deemed fit, we did become aware of four other groups that also lived in the landscape - but that knowledge came too late to scout them out before Pakhet had been slain by the leader of the moor cats - Finchstar of WindClan, as he call himself," Theron explained, sitting in the shade of a mossy forest. She could hear the faint, familiar stream rushing behind her but her attention was focused only on the Asylum Head. As the second-in-command of the band, and now the highest surviving rank, it was her duty to deliver the knowledge they had gathered...And the news of their defeat.

"Finchstar boasted a strange ability to come back from the dead, which my...Source, tells me that only the leader of these so-called Clans hold that power. I would not have believed this for myself if I hadn't seen the power twice-over - him returning from a death wound given by Pakhet...And later, from the same event that took Pakhet's life. However, while the tom made claims that he would always return, I've been told otherwise. They have, at max, nine lives and it takes a trip to a sacred location - which I am aware of where - for the next leader to gain those lives. These cats are powerful, skilled. Much like us, it seems they train their entire lives to learn how to fight but lack the...Wide range of styles we have learned, of course. But I think our greatest strength lies with the bond between Clans - something that has been shattered and strained over many, many bloody years. The cats are not as noble as they like to think, bloodshed is common between them and while they are sometimes allies, if we were to find a way to pit them against each other, weak their resolve and raise suspicious...These cats rely on strength in number. We were nearly able to destroy this entire Clan with four Nightstrikers, scouts. I think if we were to increase our number, cause discord among them so that they are less likely to call upon each other...We could perhaps crush them."

With that, she grew silent as she finished her report. She had been wary to reveal the truth of her source - while she was finding belief in her strange dream, of the tom of dark aura that had given her information, she knew it was hard to believe. And so she had simply come up with another story, of running into a stranger on the return trip that had been a defect of the Clans, one who had been betrayed and was all to willing to reveal what he knew in an effort to get back at them. Perhaps not far from the truth... Part of her still wondered how real her dream was, but the fact that she was able to recall the conversation as if it had been a waking moment, of everything lining up with what she had learned while scouting...And the tom seemed an enemy of the stars that the Clans - that Finchstar - held so highly, the source of his power. He had been cloaked in darkness, not a shining beacon of a star. He had become an enemy of the ancestors that the Clans followed... It all seemed to line up so perfectly that it was hard to believe that perhaps her head had simply filled the gaps in a dream. No...No, whoever had spoken to her was as real as everything else. He had given her perhaps the most dangerous thing - knowledge.

And now it was simply up to the Asylum Head to make the call on how to move forward.

ooc; writing is not my own and belongs to the rper behind this character ;))

Dawn, the mistress of sweet tidings. The bringer of warmth and life wherever it’s delicate tendrils touched. The bright glow felt obscene to the cat who sat patiently still. Dappled shadows of leaves from evergreens and branches of shed leaves fell onto a grey and black spotted pelt. Its head lay eternally open in a gaping maw where hazel and green eyes stared at one of the nightstrikers they had sent so long ago.

"Perhaps.” The voice echoed in the silence of the clearing. The lynx’s pale tail lashed as Theron finished her report. "You’ve done well to gather all of this information. Perhaps in time, your source might be willing to come forward to myself.” A hidden smile crosses the features beneath the snarling mouth. So, the clans were at war with each other were they? It was valuable information. The destiny was almost fulfilled, although… the smile turned into a headtilt. The motion made the head of the pelt tilt even further, the angle disorienting to look at.

"We can use all of this information you have given us. Indeed, you and your Nightstrikers have been a credit… except...” the head returned to its normal position. The eyes beneath it narrowed into slits.

"Do tell me, and think carefully dearest, what possessed you and Pakhet to attack their camp?” The voice hardened beneath the pelt. The pelt shifted as the cat beneath it stood. Then took a pawstep.

"If I recall, your orders were to scout.” The voice within the pelt quieted, though it was hardly a blessing. The tone was full of danger that might have made other cats retreat if they had been present. She stepped forward, closer again. "Instead, you come here, without any other Nightstrikers.” Another step. "You come here having lost.” another step. "... you come here, without my captain ” The Asylum Head stopped. Lynx pelt a mere hair from touching Theron’s pelt. Eyes, tender and cruel rested on the cat before them.

"You understand, beloved, that a price must be paid for your failure.” The voice softened with the head’s gaze. A brief moment of quiet settled between cats, before a heavy paw lifted and slashed across Theron’s eyes. The head brought the bloodied paw to their muzzle and observed the blood on it for a moment. The forest’s rivers would run with it soon enough. The white paw was placed back on the ground. "Your price has been paid. Should you recover, you will rise a captain.” The head turned, gaze looking into the trees surrounding the clearing.

A deep purr echoed in its chest. A singular snowflake fell from the sky.

"Regardless, the forest will be ours by the next season of snows.”