May Gathering 2020 [Sitewide Plot Finale]

OOC: Lark will go for whoever touches Smallbean, Red will do the same for Swansong but he's more of backup since he's an apprentice

Larkflight glanced at Smallbean. Relief showed in her gaze, and she quickly sat next to him, a quick touch of her ear saying all that needed to be said. That she'd protect him. That she'd die for him, if it came to that. And it looked more like a possibility in every passing second.

Redpaw crouched down, eyes wide, as Swansong continued to speak up. They're expecting us to speak up. We have a choice to keep you safe; we should take it. You're going to get yourself killed, and I won't be able to do anything about it... Still, he stood by Swansong, staring that the starry cats who had dared to do this. Was this about 'impurity' anymore? Or was it just shaming the cats they disliked, and then killing them? He knew where he would fight, when the battle came. He'd help Swansong.

Ravenmist didn’t know who it was that spoke. But her words were clear, pure, purer than the Righteous Few have ever been. She gave a quick nod of agreement, before speaking up beside the she-cat. “Neither will I. Or any of ShadowClan. You ask us to break the Code you are so eager to preserve. That, we will not do. It is clear to me you are no wiser than you were in life. You clearly don’t have a better sense of judgement or speaking skills.”

She gave a purr of amusement, head directed towards the former leaders. “Near the end of the Code, it is stated that an honorable warrior does not need to kill to win his battles. You are demanding we slaughter our friends, our family.”

“I will not lay a paw on Morningpaw, Asterspark, Oakstar, any of these cats. Some made past mistakes, some are fighting for truth in the present. But none deserve to die in the idiotic name of ‘purity’.” She lashed her tail, though the blind deputy didn’t move from her spot on the rock.

”If you try to do this, tonight we will find out whether StarClan can bleed.”

The blood-curdling shrieks, bellows of passionate fury, gnashing together as a unified chorus erupted into the sinister skies. Spectral entities, of whom he refused to properly agnize, descended in a deceivingly elegant flurry of stars. Materialising before their very eyes... their conniving smirks incised onto their maws, like taut snakes carved into their deceptive faces. Some of the star-pricked cats, its seemed, contemptuously fumed at the mere sight of the Clans. Deriding them, sparing no cat as they hurled their snide remarks at the assembly. Others, however, poised their silver tongue carefully... to torment them with that oh-so sly viciousness. Their haunting jeers jabbed at his chest; their poison the fuel to the acidic inferno within. Belligerence sparked in his crackling glare, smouldering his murky depths in unrelenting, long-withstanding rage. Searing incandescence scorched his eyes, their radiating intensity enough to kindle mild horror.


Smokepaw snapped himself deeper into Viperpaw's mane, having abruptly jolted to his shuddering paws. He whipped his tail, plumes splaying as it flicked into the air, to settle tightly around his sister in a protective embrace. The chalky glisten of his talon-like claws shimmered in the shadows, his heart heaving as venom simmered in his lungs. Breathing had hastened into laborious wheezes, bleak dread coursing through his pulsing veins. Briarpaw, Redwolf, Ravenmist. Flintstar. Goldenpaw, Ebonypaw. Morningpaw. The whir of names intruded into his mind, amplifying the obscure panic seeping into his blood. Quavering pupils surveyed the furore, desperately attempting to discern the pelts from pelts. Howls, wails, snarls, emitting into the pitch-black vastness, veiled by the impenetrable canopy. Morningpaw, directly called upon. Their foolishly impotent call, seeking to recruit. Gravelly snarls, fusing from both the living and the dead, ascending into dangerously pitched tones. A voice, speaking reason, possessing that collected quality that he knew was from that SkyClan she-cat from the moon before. Ravenmist, expressing her desire for justice, portraying his own beliefs in intricately-woven strands. Threats. More threats. The vows of imminent peril. He had been aware, fully aware, of what events were to transpire tonight. And now death had arrived to linger on the edge of the air, the blizzard of stardust twirling at before their eyes...

---

Larkflight glanced at the Shadowclan-smelling tomcat as he hurled insults at the starry cats. She stood up. "He's right. You sit here, killing cats for impurity. Killing cats for disobeying the warrior code. Such hypocrites. Murder is against the warrior code, and yet, you're doing it." She barked a cold laugh, as anger rose in her belly, forcing its way out in words. "As he said, actions speak louder than words. So if you want to turn SkyClan against the rest of us with your twisted little lies, it goes to show how much you need them. Because you're afraid that we'll beat you."

Larkflight took a deep breath, forcing herself to get her words to the point. A snarl wove its way up her maw, and she yelled, "You idiots claim to be Righteous; claim that you want the best for us. But you don't. Being in the stars has wiped your minds clean"." She nodded to the ShadowClan deputy. "Ravenmist may be blind, but she can see better than any of you star-cursed fools. You think you'll be able to beat us tonight, but that's wrong. You're fighting for your idiotic idea. We're fighting for family, for loyalty, for kin, and you'll never be able to match that."

Larkflight's gaze singled on the five cats who had started this. "You may win tonight. But at what cost? Us Clan cats would die for our Clan. If you kill all of us rebels, you won't have anyone left to rule over."

Larkflight's aqua gaze fell onto Morningpaw, and she nodded, a sign of respect. Everyone who had spoke up tonight deserved respect. Maybe they'd have a target on their backs because of it, but this was why they took the oath. To die for their Clans, not these twisted, cruel, starry cats.

The whisper held much emotion, bitterness flowing with the strength of a coursing river. With the swiftness of a great typhoon, the battered, bruised, emotional mess of a cat was an inch away from the she-cat who'd had a major role in her best friend's death. The molly who'd done nothing. The cat who'd made the stars shine with her smile, the cat who could befriend a mountain cat with her purrs, the very cat who'd practically shaped her with love.

Love.
Pah. What did these cats know of that? None of it. They new nothing. Their stone cold hearts knew not of the radiance that shone within one. They couldn't even fathom the ideals in which the tortoiseshell had held so closely. If Dacedream was worthy of death, then the Righteous Few were worthy of being a fox's dinner and a rabbit's dirtplace. They wanted purity, perfection, absolute loyalty. Dacedream was of the above. Her blood held the blood of only one Clan. She was perfect in every true way that counted. She'd been loyal above all else to ThunderClan. To her very last breath, she'd never forsaken them. She was what a warrior was.

A warrior. So many ways to describe them.
Were they fierce, harsh, ready to do anything for their Clan? Were they ambitious, willing to murder? Or were they soft, kind, peace-makers? Did they show eloquent speech, fearless in the face of war? Could they fight with sharp claws and kind hearts? Or was it all one-sided? Did blood rule the forest, filling all with wickedness? Did they show mercy to the weak, or kill them for being so? Did they fight for the right cause, or cower to authority? Did they show compassion in their hearts, or only wicked intent for all but themselves? Did they hold the code up to the highest, or did they hold ambition up to the highest?

Ah, the Warrior Code. A flawed piece of fox-dung. Don't do this, don't do that, this must be done before this, that can't happen until after that. Bleh. What did it matter? No cat listened to it. What did it matter? Those who did twisted it to their own beliefs. The best cat had died for it.


This was a war they would not win. The Clans' fought for love, for justice, for those robbed for them. Parents, daughters, son, sisters, brothers, mates, friends, Clanmates. Every cat stolen from them was a life. A valuable life in which had blessed many. Like Dacedeam, like Finchstar, like so many others who'd been struck with an illness. Eyes narrowed, glistening with hatred. Body shaking, mind raging, a storm that couldn't be calmed. Heartbeat going like thunder, pulse beating wild, frozen in time.


Surely the Righteous Few were tired of it? They should just give up, before it's too late! Why couldn't they see? They were the common enemy, and they'd fall the their claws and toxic words. They'd die, and there would be no regret from any cat. They deserved this. Stormpaw felt it in her bones, this was the right thing to do, so why'd it feel so wrong? The code. The flawed code. It had made her resolve weak. But she was fighting for Dacedream. The image of her beaten, bloody body gave her strength, fueled the raging fire within.


She knew her screeches fell on deaf ears, but perhaps it would stir those who hadn't yet acted into action. It was a shot she had to take. And even if she died, well, at least she'd be with Dacedream. And that in itself was better than living.


"Love is the answer, I gotta speak it, believe it, that's how I feel inside. You can take my heart, you can take my breath. When you pry it from my cold, dead chest."

The snarl escaped her lips, meaningful and threatening. They'd have to kill her first if they wanted to harm anymore cats she cared for. Daisybloom, Dustcloud, Cedarheart, Ferretnose. No more playing nice kitty. Echoing the apprentice from earlier, in a voice as loud as possible, she yowled to the stars and moon alike.

"This is how we rise up!"

"It's our resistance, you can't resist us!"

---

OOC:

Through all the yowling and taunting, one cat remained silent. Sunspark was never one to instigate an argument, not even with these Code-breaking maggots. Perhaps it was the glimmer of his past self forcing him to have at least a microbe of pity for the traitors, or maybe it was the tension in the air that remained unbroken as the two sides sized each other up. He hadn't had a part in this Dacedream's death, it did not affect him in the slightest, so he merely stayed out of the argument and sat to the side, waiting for a decision to be reached. A part of him hoped that the living Cats would stand down and obey, he didn't really want more blood on his claws, but the rational side of his brain argued that it wasn't likely to happen. Only time would tell.

ooc: could I have someone to fight creek? she’s gonna insult you while you battle, just so you know.

Creeksplash was appalled. These cats, speaking against them? She hissed, and felt the urge once again too rip up their mangy, impure pelts. Nobody could talk to their ancestors like that! They were doing them a favor, and they should be thanking them. Calling them, cowards, monsters. They were the ones who broke the code. They were the ones who caused this. The Righteous Few were only cleaning up after them.”We are not the blame for this. It is your fault! We’re just cleaning up your mess! You are the ones that broke the code. We are putting everything back, the way it should be.” She hissed, her pelt rising. Oh, she couldn't wait for the command, for the battle to start. Soon they would feel the wrath of the stars.

ooc; it took me 20 years to skim all of this reeee

Wrenpaw was pleased to receive such an open response from the other cat. He'd been mildly concerned that any cat would be just as hostile and prickly as a cat defending their borders. A wave of relief washed over him, "Nice to meet you, Streampaw." There was a warm smile across his maw for a moment. Casting a glance back up to the great rock, he noticed the troubled expressions of the leaders, particularly his own. From the corner of his maw, he mumbled to his new friend, "Are gatherings always this tense?"

Only a moment later came the piercing yowl. Wrenpaw's ears flattened to his skull as he looked towards the gathering Righteous Few cats. He'd heard only sparse tales of them, Skyclan having mostly been spared their wrath. Cats hissed and spit from all sections around the gathering. Several other yowls tossed in their own opinion and feelings he'd never experienced before sparked his fur on end. The Skyclanner was concerned for his clan, in the same way these other clans were worried for their kin or grieving the crimes committed against those they loved. Some instinctual thing slid his claws from their sheaths and dug them into the ground.

His green gaze slid to the medicine cats at the base of the rock. Regardless of what exactly was happening here, if a fight did break out against these cats, they were the least prepared for battle. Wait, these cats... weren't cats at all. They were Starclan, right? Fear coursed through his spine as Owlstar addressed their leader. Skyclan had to stay safe. That was all that mattered. He eagerly hung onto the noise in the air, waiting with nervous anticipation for Spottedstar to speak. Their leader would know what to do. The wisdom of their ancestors, the ones that cared, was with him.

No response. Larchneedle scowled at them, disappointed by their stoicism, yet the taunting fire of delight glinted more brightly in his eyes. The round-faced ruddy tom turned his attention to the apprentice of one of eldest of the medicine cats, Honeypaw - apprentice to Sagelight of SkyClan. His eyes narrowed slightly, red ear flicking aside to listen as Owlstar demanded that the tree-dwelling Clan join their cause against the other Clans. Larchneedle scoffed and muttered, "Dunno what he wants you for." He eyed Honeypaw up and down skeptically before jeering, "It's not like you do much good for whoever you're 'helpin' anyways. S-S-St-Stammerin' little kit." He taunted mockingly and then glowered from Honeypaw to ShadowClan's representatives.

His sharp green eyes caught the amber glint of Mothglow's gaze, and he sneered, "All you kins of traitors always end up in positions of authority. Isn't that a funny coincidence? None of you deserve that power, but once one of you gets some you all sink your traitorous little claws in." He didn't believe it was a funny coincidence; he was certain, like the rest of the Righteous Ones, that traitors bred traitors and enabled traitors. Larchneedle knew he would've been leader if not for the interfering of the medicine cats of his time. They were made to heal, not make decisions about how the Clan was run or who was to run it! They were made to follow StarClan, not lead their own Clans! The tom hated medicine cats for that; they were pompous and nosy and grasped at authority where they held none. His eyes burned into Eveningpaw's for a brief moment, then turned to the remaining target.

Spiderquill. Larchneedle put a look of shock and disgust on his face when he noticed the tom, thin-furred and fully devoid of any hairs on his muzzle and around his eyes. Larchneedle scoffed and guffawed, "I thought Gatherin's were for Clan cats, not porcupines. You poor tom. Your real parents just couldn't live with the humiliation of having a mole-faced kit like you, huh? Your "moms" feel so bad for you they had to stick you in the medicine den. Of course you're more than happy to hide there, aren't you? I sure would if I looked like you." He glanced over his shoulder up towards the leaders, then over towards the Righteous Ones, claws pricking the earth impatiently. Larchneedle looked back towards Spiderquill, thick tail lashing as a sadistic flash of menace flickered over his face, and he grinned as he suggested, "Or maybe - maybe you hide in the medicine den 'cause that thin pelt of yours doesn't help keep you safe when the claws come out?" There was a dark, warning edge to his voice.

---

One paw in front of the other, the apprentice took a single step forward- and then another, and another. Towards Lavenderbreeze, in front of her; towards the Righteous Few; towards destiny. Her pelt thrummed with anticipation as the words of the Clan cats burned within her, a spark that had begun an endless fire, an uncontrollable blaze strong enough to burn out even the brightest stars. Five Clans, fifty hearts, all beating as one, the sound loud enough to shatter the sky, to pierce the stars and send them spiralling into oblivion. Her claws, digging into the grassy dirt beneath her; her eyes, locked with her foes, green as the grass and bright as the midday sun; her body mortal, but her spirit unbreakable. And as the cries of support and growls of aggression calmed, just for a moment, she spoke, her voice clear, resonant, and every word with more force of will than the last. And it was not Morningpaw who spoke, the apprentice hoped, but the voice of truth, and peace, and love, and the Clans, and justice, and a million other things besides. "From the dawn of the Clans, since so long ago that not even StarClan can remember their beginnings; we have been warriors. We have been taught, from before the moment of our birth, to fight for what we believe in; to never roll over and submit, to protect those we love. To remain loyal to our Clan, and to seek peace, but be willing to fight for it. We have been taught to place the needs of others above our own, and to band together to survive even the greatest threats. This is the foundation of the Warrior Code; to be warriors. And when I look around, I see warriors, standing firm. I see the Clans, together. It was never about any one cat; it was about all of us, and our freedom, and our peace. And you came to take that away."

"The last Gathering," Morningpaw called out, "you came for us, and you struck down our own. We stood and watched, and shouted, and cried, and tried to bargain and negotiate. We pleaded for our lives, and you took them without mercy- and you expect us to plead before you again? To cower and offer up innocent cats as a sacrifice so we can continue to avoid your gaze? That is not who we are. That has never been who we are, and you know this. You know that coming here was an act of war, but you thought- you hoped- you could rely on fear to force us into submission. And yes- we are afraid. But we aren't looking back, and we aren't stepping down, and there isn't a single cat here who stands behind you." (She hoped.) "Your time was long ago, and you had your chance to influence the forest- you all did. We do not follow StarClan because we must; we follow StarClan because we should. Because the words of our ancestors are, usually, worth listening to. Yours? Not so much. Your cause is hollow, rotten, and filled with more injustice than you claim to solve. Your cause lost all sense of justice the moment you placed a single paw on solid land, because your cause relies on killing those who oppose you; and we all oppose you. So if you silence one of us, you have to silence all of us. You have to burn the whole forest down- and if this is to end in fire, then we all burn together, and we will make sure that you burn with us."

"So you can return to StarClan, and beg for their forgiveness, just as you ask that we beg for yours; and they will judge you, just as you judge us; and you will feel what it is to be at the mercy of your betters. Or you can stay here, and you will receive no such mercy, not as long as you threaten our Clans and demand the blood of our kin. We will line our nests with your pelts, and by dusk tomorrow, the sky will have sixteen less stars- and we will do this in the name of peace, because peace is dependent on cats like us to guard it, nurture it, protect it, like a sheltered kit surrounded by foxes. If we look away for even a minute, if we let down our guard, then the peace that we have forged will crumble; so we will fight, again, and again, as long as it takes, because peace is worth fighting for."

"We are not afraid of the storm that comes our way, because we are the storm. We are the raging River, and the howling Wind, and the roaring Thunder; we are the blackened Sky and the darkest Shadows, and you may be the Stars, but you do not shine tonight. And if you leave now, then you will be safe from our wrath; but if you stay, and if you take up claws against us?"

Spiderquill looked on in fear as the Righteous Few arrived on the scene, euphoria from being acknowledged by his peers instantly vanishing. The sickeningly familiar feeling of pure, unadulterated dread filled him as his paws rooted themselves to the ground, full of adrenaline yet unable to move an inch. The fear increased still as other, braver cats rose up and spoke- no, yelled out. Their tones were defiant, stong, proud... and yet all Spiderquill felt was terror. What if the Righteous Few took offense and killed them? What if they killed everyone in the clearing? He couldn't begin to fathom how powerful the StarClanners were, which of course made his heart beat all the faster. He felt like a cornered mouse, frozen in fear before a stalking predator. He was nothing like Stormpaw, nor like Smokepaw. He was a coward- and a weak one at that. The whole forest was in danger, and yet all he thought about was his own safety. Now, more than ever, he felt the true magnitude of the rift between him and everyone else. Was it narcissistic of him to think of himself as different? It couldn't be, not when it was the truth. Even the other medicine cats stood their ground in the face of danger, but not him. No, all he could do was look on like... like some kind of selfish kit. It-

"Dunno what he wants you for."

His thoughts immediately stopped in their tracks, making room for a new threat: A StarClan cat was approaching the medicine cats. He wanted to step back, but his paws refused to move. All he could do was watch as Larchneedle made his way towards him. He wanted to defend his fellow medicine cats, but his cowardly brain didn't allow it. He was rooted to the spot, even as the larger star-pelted tom began to adress him. The expression on his face- it hurt. Sure, he had gotten odd expressions before, but they were always reserved. Polite. They were never this- extreme. But it wasn't Larchneedle's disgusted face that set him off. It was his words. Sharp, sharper than any claws or teeth. It wasn't his fault he hadn't known his parents, was it? Surely they just died or went missing, they couldn't- they couldn't have left him because of how he looked, could they? He was a medicine cat because StarClan had chosen him, wasn't he? Or was it to stop him from humiliating the Clan? His breathing sped up. What Larchneedle was saying- it was true. He was an embarrassment to RiverClan, hidden away in the medicine den. He swallowed, fighting agaisnt the lump in his throat. He could hold back the tears, he could-

"Or maybe - maybe you hide in the medicine den 'cause that thin pelt of yours doesn't help keep you safe when the claws come out?"

It was like a dam had been opened, giving way to salty tears. They stung on Spiderquill's stupid, ugly face. It was true, all of it. He was a coward, a weak kit. He was hiding from the world like a rabbit in its den. What good was he, really? "FINE! Y-you're right. I'm a coward. A weakling. A d-disappointment." The tears were pouring at this point, landing on the little tom's paws. He could finally move, which explained the fact that he appeared to have shrunk to half his size. There wasn't a point to his admission. Maybe it was instinct, trying to appease the tom by agreeing with him. He was right- his pelt did little to none to protect him. If Larchneedle were to attack him right now, he'd be down in an instant. Yet, as he looked the other tom in the eyes through a pool of tears, a new wave of... pride? Bravery? Stupidity? Washed over him. "But at least I'm n-not a murderous piece of fo-foxdung." His voice was low and remarkably steady despite the lump in his throat. "At least I have cats that love me, or tolerate me, whatever. You wanna know the d-difference between y-you and me? I am not feared. I am not hated, nor evil. I will not be remembered as a cat who punished and killed innocent cats. I- I will be remembered as the cat who helps, and understands, and loves. I think- I think that makes me a lot better of a cat than you ever were." His voice was now loud, louder than it had ever been. Though his heart still raced and hot tears still ran down his face, Spiderquill stood tall for once. Though quieter than any of the others, possibly only for Larchneedle's ears, he mimicked the words of far braver cats in a hoarse whisper: "This is how we rise up. It's our resistance, you can't resist us."

In the midst of the chaos, Redpaw was quiet. Swansong was still standing up proudly. But words didn't change anything. The starry cats were still going to attack. Speaking up just put a target on Swansong's back. He hissed through gritted teeth to her, "Standing up for yourself doesn't do anything except put a target on your back. I don't like what they're trying to do, but we all know this is going to end in a fight, and I don't want to lose you." He glanced nervously at the starry ranks taunting them. Leave us alone! In spite of his neutral standing, he was starting to get annoyed at them. Not scared, just annoyed. A bit scared for Swansong, but not himself; he'd done nothing wrong, and he'd do whatever Spottedstar told SkyClan to do. He'd be loyal to his Clan, as the warrior code said. And that was what they wanted, wasn't it? He was playing their game now, but it wasn't risky for him. For Swansong and Morningpaw, and everyone else at those meetings, they'd chosen to speak up. That was their own fault. If they died, they knew the risks. Redpaw's ears flattened as he glanced at Swansong again. She knew the risks, and now she might get killed.

The air in the little area around Redwolf was getting tenser and tenser as the cats she loved grew angrier by the second. Her defensive stance never wavered for a second as she kept an eye on the closest of the starry mange-pelts, ready to lash out at any of them that were dumb enough to try to get near. A growl rising from behind her told her that Smokepaw was about to speak, and speak he did. She turned back to Smokepaw and stood beside him, tail on his back as he exploded, all of his bottled up anger turned into verbal projectiles that were fired at Brackenstar, at the rest of the Righteous Few. Smokepaw's words were fueling her own fury, and her anger gripped her heart, roiling in her gut, and she knew that she had to speak, no, roar. She bared her teeth, drawing in a breath before her voice exploded out of her maw.
"Every single one of the Clan cats that have raised their voice against you speak truth! You are nothing but a horde of cruel fox-hearts that are only interested in gripping the forest in your claws of tyranny! But let me tell you this! Thornstar, Torrentstar, Finchstar, Dacedream, and all of the others that have fallen to your claws WILL NOT HAVE DIED IN VAIN! WE WILL FIGHT! WE WILL BRING YOU DOWN!"

"WE WILL NOT SUBMIT TO THE LIKES OF YOU!"

It was strange-- just moments ago Nettlefire had felt like she was being crushed by an impossible weight. Like all the air was being crushed out of her. But now...now she felt like she could take on anything-- or anyone-- who stood in her way.

Perhaps it was because she realized that if she let fear control her now of all times, she would never forgive herself. Or perhaps it was the chorus of resisting voices that now surrounded her, and the sudden, and rather delayed, realization of how far from being alone she was.


The ThunderClan deputy's cold green gaze passed over the assorted members of the Righteous Few. The only other StarClan cat Nettlefire had really met besides these monsters was at her moonstone journey. She remembered the she-cat well-- how serene and regal she had looked. How much kindness had exuded from her voice, even as she had delivered painful news. What a contrast that was to this.  

"It's so strange," she began, finally speaking. Her voice was calm and observational, but there was a sharpness layered underneath it. "I mean, look at all of you, with your glimmering pelts. You should be magnificent. Sights to see! And instead, you are all so ugly, small, and petty. I wonder, have you all always been this way? Did any of you ever know goodness? Kindness? Some of you must have at some point in your lives. But look at you now. I can practically smell the stench of all your putrid, withering hearts. You all seem so very proud of yourselves. So very confident that things will go your way. You shouldn't be."