The Sky is Falling [SITEWIDE PLOT]

Sprucesnow woke up, yawning. What was happening? The air didn’t feel right. Opening his eyes fully, he found himself staring into the eyes of a cat he had never seen before. He tried to get up, to exit the den, but it was blocked. He couldn’t fight through, and he could slightly hear speaking outside. "Hey, let me through, will ya?" he hissed, only to be thrust backward, further into the den. His thoughts immediately flitted to his kin. Nettlefrost, Graypaw, Deerkit. Wrenspring, the mate of his daughter. He hoped that they were ok. But he needed answers. "What are you doing here?" he asked the rouges that were surrounding the elders den. He pulled himself closer to Nighthawk, wrapping his tail around her. "It’ll be ok, love." he comforted, although he wasn’t quite sure of it himself. He wasn’t quiet sure of anything.

Moacir watched from a safe distance, his dark, striped tail twitching uncomfortably at the sight before him. He'd seen such things before, having been with The Asylum for a while now, but usually, it was just small groups. This was probably the largest...assimilation he'd taken part in. These cats were more upset than others he'd seen. Though, he supposed it didn't particularly matter one way or another how they reacted. This sort of thing always ended the same. It tugged at his heartstrings a bit to hear the panicked cries of these strange cats, but it was all for the best. A swift defeat was better than a long, drawn-out battle. One which would undoubtedly end in both sides burying friends and family.

Moacir frowned as numerous cats broke out into frightened yells. He curled his tail neatly around his paws, nose twitching as he scented the air. There didn't appear to be many injuries thus far, which was good because some of the Night Strikers whined like kits if they were harmed. The white and brown lynx point shook his head, dismissing the traitorous thoughts from his mind. It was dangerous the think like that as his ideas might get out of paw. Moacir's ears pricked and he shifted uncomfortably as voices from nearby reached his ears. He fixed his gaze on a nearby den, eyes narrowed slightly at the baffled murmuring from within. He got up and gently pushed his way to the entrance of the den.

As a pelt ward, not many cared enough about his motives to question where he went. Which worked fantastically for him because he never went anywhere with any sort of ulterior motive in mind. His gaze caught that of another cat's own and his blue eyes adopted a friendly, yet detached look. "Greetings friends." Moacir paused, confident that the Night Strikers outside might be listening, and chose his next words very carefully. "We mean you all no harm. In fact, The Asylum is here to help you...save you, even, from yourselves."

His gaze flickered over the cats in the den and he offered them a gentle smile. It was a pain to put up a facade as he didn't exactly believe in the Asylum, but their methods had been successful thus far. Why wouldn't it be the same for this group of cats? "We in the Asylum cater to the needs of our family and ensure the safety of all." Moacir hesitated for a moment, acutely aware of the black rabbit pelt draped over his shoulders and back. Was that the truth though? There had been many instances in the past where cats were...less than accepting of the ways of the Asylum. Which in turn resulted in less than pleasant experiences for all involved.

No one enjoyed disciplining new kin, but it had to be done. If not to cultivate the growing population of Asylum cats, then to protect other populations of cats from being...removed. Voice lowered to a whisper, Moacir quietly added. "I suggest you all surrender rather than fighting back. Perhaps bi-" He cut himself just short of verbalizing treason, eyes darting to glance behind him before continuing, his voice steady. "I do hope I helped to clear things up."

Copperpaw woke when he felt pressure on all of the soft parts of his body. His instincts kicked in and he squirmed before he was even fully aware of what was going on. Protecting his organs was completely automatic, but no matter where he tried to move, stronger cats held him down. His eyes fluttered, meeting several eyes of many different unknown creatures. Cats... He realized, once he saw the disconnect between the facial tissue of the animal they wore and the cat within through their eye holes.

If they were expecting any sort of violence out of Copperpaw, he initially had no reaction other than to comply. What was he supposed to? They'd kill him before he could make a move.

---

Bloodstrike turned his head to see who was speaking, though the familiarity of the voice was unmistakable. As his eyes locked onto Iniko, a fury of white-hot intensity rippled through his entire body like a live wire. It was at that moment that his eyes darkened to beyond anything previously seen on the dark tabby's face before. He held his tongue, as much as he wanted to spit obscenities and curses so loud that it would reach the Dark Forest, Bloodstrike knew that it was not just his pride that was at stake here. His clan needed to be protected. His family needed to be protected. Whatever lies this fox-heart of a cat had told Dawnhawk, he would need time to put such lies and fables to rest. Bloodstrike instead listened to what Iniko had to say as well as the words of his clanmates that he could hear. Beechface sounded like she had put up a fight, and for just one moment, his heart skipped a beat and his breath caught in his throat. Of course she would fight, she was her father's daughter... but right now fighting was unwise.

If they had only caught Bloodstrike out in the open somewhere and were threatening his life, the dark tom would have smiled and drew his last free breath before charging forward. He didn't care about his own life. He didn't fear pain or death. He only feared failure. The only way these mouse-hearted cats could have ever won was exactly what they did now. Bloodstrike's fur bristled under the claws and teeth of the foreign invaders, but for the time being, he would not fight.At least... not while they had his vitals under their claws.

But eventually.

They would have to let go.

And no force in Starclan, earth or the Dark Forest could stop Bloodstrike from channeling all of his suppressed fury into every cat foolish enough to challenge his over-sized claws and powerful jaws.

"It's been a long time Iniko," Bloodstrike spoke clearly and projected his voice with authority despite the weight of claws on his belly and throat. "I knew you weren't alone..." A smile crept across Bloodstrike's face, but there was no warmth behind that smile. It was born of contempt and held the promise of death. "Still, I can't say I expected this." Now, Bloodstrike put some force back against the cats pinning him, but not enough to throw or do any serious damage to them. It was more to show that he wasn't just going to lay there. "You say you are doing this as a precaution? Well... order them to let me up. I will hear what you have to say and I may even order the clan to do the same, at least for the short time that I am acting as leader of Skyclan. Cooperate with me and I will cooperate with you, in turn. Continue to act like a mad dog and you may as well kill all of us, because we will resist down to the last kit. Does the Asylum desire to be the ruler of ashes and carrion, or to rule over Skyclan? Let. Me. Up." If he refused... well... Bloodstrike felt he could get a good enough of a roll from his position to throw the cats off of him and escape with superficial scratches as a result. If he was wrong and they got a fatal slice in... well... he'd at least kill Iniko before he breathed his last.

---

Dawnhawk's ear twitched. Iniko... knew Bloodstrike? The thought made his fur stand up a bit, but he forced it to lie flat. How much had his father known, and said nothing to anyone? This was something he would speak to Iniko about later, but for now, Dawnhawk stayed quiet. He ignored the voices of all of his clan members, though the struggle in the medicine den and the scent of blood had him snap his head back in that direction. His ears flattened against his head. As one of the nightstrikers subdued his large sister better and made eye contact with him, Dawnhawk growled at him. Is one medicine cat too much for you to handle? I should launch you off of the Gorge when this is over. And he made careful note of the pelts they wore, burning it into his mind with sharp detail. They would pay for their sloppiness. They would pay in blood and Theron could eat dirt as far as he was concerned. Frustrated, he turned his attention to the voice of a cat that he quite frankly... had the most distaste for. Redfall ran his mouth, like he always did, and made a typical mouse-brain out of himself once more.

"You have the gall to call me a traitor? Keep your mouth closed Redfall. It is better to stay silent and let everyone think you a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt." Dawnhawk spat at him, though a sadistic grin spread across Dawnhawk's face. Oh... he would have his fun with Redfall. And about time too. All of those in the clan who had wronged him would feel the weight of their mistakes. The weight would come in the form of many various tortures, tortures he had fantasized about in dreams and practiced on helpless prey when no one was looking. He finally would have an opportunity to play the games he wanted to play his own way.

When Bloodstrike finally started speaking, Dawnhawk turned his attention back to him. This... was not what he expected of Bloodstrike. He was under no delusion that his father was going to come quietly or accept a foreign leader. Why was he so calm? The Bloodstrike he knew would have exploded furiously into battle without a single care for his own life or any injury inflicted upon him. Of all of the cats in the clan, Bloodstrike had always scared Dawnhawk the most.

Honeydew disliked being pinned down. "AGAIN? ARE YOU SERIOUS? DIE, YOU MANGE-PELTS. Also, WHO IN STARCLAN WEARS THE PELTS OF PREDATORS AND PREY. DISGUSTING." Well, dislike was an understatement. She despised being pinned down. It made her feel useless, if she wasn't already. Unsheathing her claws and attempting to claw the life out of these stupid, rogue cats, Honeypaw spat and snarled at them in fury. "Don't you DARE touch me, my Clanmates or my family members. I promise you, you WILL regret it."

Anyone with a brain and functioning eyes (sorry, Primroselight) could see how severely outnumbered they were. Willowdance, unfortunately, was a cat who thought with her heart and not her head. Despite Wrenspring’s words, she flew into a full-on panic.

Loud screeches that sounded nothing like coherent words erupted from her mouth. The she-cat yowled as loudly as she could manage, unable to even stop herself as she lashed out blindly at every unfamiliar pelt she could see. The sight of everyone else in the den pinned down agitated her further.

It was no longer possible for anyone, including Willowdance herself, to tell if she was angry, scared, or just freaked out. She couldn’t even seem to control herself as she screamed and thrashed, probably being quite the sight for other cats.

Blossomstep had been restlessly fidgeting in her sleep, as she had most nights since Blazingkit's disappearance. Even more so since Wolfstar had left to try to find Juniperlight. Fatigue finally caught up to her this night though, and despite the occasional twitch of whiskers or jerk of a paw Blossomstep was lost to the world. She had moved back to the warriors den temporarily, allowing Bloodstrike the place in the leader's den during Wolfstar's absence. So when she was jerked back to reality with the others by a well-placed paw, she struggled to remain limp, to not give any sign that she had woken up. Using the cover of the darkness the newly rebuilt warrior den provided, her eyes darted around, attempting to make sense of the situation before she even dared make a move. What felt like countless of these shadowy figures had most of her clanmates pinned, only the elders and kits were spared. Perhaps queens too, she noted, spotting Foxfire but not Flowerthorn. Nonetheless, SkyClan was outnumbered, and caught completely by surprise. Who had been put on guard that night? How had they been oblivious to a group this large nearby?

Discussion in the other direction started, and she resisted the urge to swivel her head or even her ears to hear it better. She could pick out certain voices, Bloodstrike, and one that was unknown... And another familiar one. Dawnhawk? Why was Redfall calling him a traitor? Finally she caved to her instincts, and turned her head. This move was greeted with another paw firmly pressing her head into the ground, teeth clacking together painfully and her tail lashed. "I was... jus-... tryin' t- 'ere better." She hissed out, and the pressure was lifted from her head. Raising it slightly to work her jaw a bit, she glared up at the cat who had her pinned before turning her attention back to what was happening. Dawnhawk was... Standing free? Among these cats? Had he managed to escape their claws? No, the realization came as swiftly as she had been awakened. Dawnhawk was with these strangers. Her eyes narrowed and she let out a low growl, directed at the cat above her and the traitor she had once mentored. Dawnhawk's voice was cold, calculated and carefully chosen to get his point across. This had been planned. Bloodstrike's voice came again, and pride for her son filled her expression. He had always had a temper, but he was handling the situation... As well as one could, given the circumstances. A small sense of relief that Wolfstar was not present shifted to mild horror. Had these cats found him first? Swallowing hard, she thought over the conversation she had heard bits and pieces of. It had been mentioned that Wolfstar wasn't present at the time, but there was no indication that they knew of where he was.... But that could very well have been a lie. Would her mate be walking into the jaws of a trap, with her having no way to warn him?

Ashpaw got led out of the den by the fierce Asylum cat.  Ashpaw was strong enough she could, most likely, win in a fight against this cat, but she also knew that if she did there would most likely be five more of these strange cats surrounding her within minutes.  So she complied.  The wind still had its normal chill and the moon still hung in the sky, but this once thought nuisance was the least worse thing about the night.  Her stomach hurt and her ears were back like a small mouses would be if it was being hunted.  She spotted Dawnhawk again and the hurt, angry, and confused feeling returned.

"Dawnhawk."  She exclaimed somewhat loudly, but still unsure if her brother heard her.  She did not know exactly what next to say.  Tell him he was a trader?  Let him know how much it hurt her?  No, instead the only thing she said next was, "Why?"  Still unknowing if he heard her or not she stayed still for a moment.  The Asylum cat leading her told her to continue, but she did not listen.  Again the cat told her to keep going, but this time with a threatening tone in her voice.  Ashpaw turned and met eyes with the other cat.

"STOP!" Askpaw yelled and without thinking scratched the bottom of the cat's leg.  She noticed she did not do it hard, but crimson blood began to slowly come out.  Realizing what she did and hoping she did not get punished for it, she looked at the Asylum cat with concern.  "I'm so sorry," she told the cat.




When the grey cat tried to speak to Dawnhawk, Shira knew she needed to quiet her.  She needed to make sure that no cats were distracted by anything, especially the cat she was in charge of.  "Come on," She said in a hushed tone, trying not to bring attention to herself.  The grey she-cat did not come, so she turned to her again.  "I said," this time she spoke in a stern, slightly louder voice.  "Come."

When the cat turned around and scratched her, she looked at the grey creature with a calm face that only had a tint of anger to it.  The cat started to apologize, but that did not make her less angry at the she-cat.  After the cat was finished with her apology, Shira swiftly scratched her on her leg.  The grey cat flinched and looked to be in slight pain, but Shira did not feel bad for this cat, she was just doing to this cat what it did to her.

"Alright, come on."  She told the cat and, thankfully, the clan cat listened.

“Last I checked, helping hostile foreign cats take over the Clan was traitorous. And maybe I’m a fool, but being called one by you isn’t going to stop me from speaking out.” Redfall’s green gaze held a clear challenge. He wouldn’t be able to hold his own verbally against the tom, but he was certain he would win a fight with tooth and claw on any day. Tilting his head upwards, the tom managed to look stare the Asylum cat down even while being pinned. “You think someone who betrayed his Clan so easily wouldn’t have the same problem doing it to you?”

Wrenspring avoided him, Sienna was gone, Swansong was dead, his kits were distant, one missing, one dead. He didn’t have anything to lose but his own life, and he’d rather lose it than have to live with Dawnhawk bossing him around for the rest of his life. If he had nothing left to lose, he could speak out freely. If they tried to kill him, he wouldn’t go down easily.

Ceres hadn't been hesitant to follow the other Asylum cats into camp. Her place wasn't to pin down one of the Clan cats. Instead, it seemed as if the Nightstrikers were eager to have a go at that job. She found herself positioned towards the exit of the camp where she could look out at the scene unfolding before her. If any of the Clan cats attempted to escape, she'd be the first one to stop them. In all honesty, she didn't feel the slightest bit sorry for the Clan cats as they searched for their loved ones and let out cries of protest. She was only confused. The Asylum hadn't stormed the forests' Clans with the intent of killing off every cat for no reason. They only wanted to help. She had never experienced a Leaf-bare, but the older Asylum cats had told her about the harsh cold winds and the scarce prey that it brought. If they were smart, the Clans would be ecstatic over the fact that they had more paws to help them during the roughest season. She did another quick count of all the Asylum cats that had been specifically assigned to this Clan. Ceres was familiar with them all, but she wasn't close with them.

The only cats that she had been relatively close with had been sent to other parts of the forest. At this point, all she could do was hope that they were alright. She figured that letting the older cats handle talking with the SkyClanners would be for the best. She would've loved to approach one, but if a cat managed to run off while she abandoned her post, surely one of the captains would end up being furious with her.

Graypaw didn't flinch, even as her Asylum captor hissed at her to stay still. She had other plans. These cats had shown up out of absolutely nowhere. The fact that she knew nothing about them bothered her. None of the older cats that she spoke to on a regular basis had shared a story with her about them, but there had to be someone in SkyClan, other than Dawnhawk, who had known of their existence prior to the invasion. If these strangers were honest about wanting to "help" the Clans, then they wouldn't harm or kill her if she didn't attack them first. She decided to approach the first Asylum cat that she laid eyes upon. This one didn't seem to be on edge and hungry for a fight. In fact, he was smiling. That bothered Graypaw even more. How could they storm the camp and then have the audacity to be happy about it? Despite her indignant thoughts, the apprentice let no trace of anger show on her face as she approached Moacir.

"Help us?" She immediately launched into questioning the cat without even pausing to give the tom a greeting, "You invade our camp, pin us down in the middle of our sleep, threaten our lives, and then tell us you want to help? I think you need to reevaluate what being helpful means, because you're only being a menace."

Desperate yowls rose up into the air in a familiar chorus. Iniko sucked in the cool air, allowing it everything to slip away for a moment. While he didn't thrive off the sound, the calico was in his element. Countless seasons had been been spent in similar circumstances; his ears were accustomed to the sound. There was a familiar voice that piped up, demanding his attention but Asylum's Standard Captain was not an easily distracted creature. Only visions of a rough-tongued and gray-pelted Shadowclan warrior had been enough to pluck away his thoughts. Those desires had been sated enough for now. As much as he longed for Tanglerose, duty was at the forefront of his mind.

Without turning, he quickly sought the bearer of the voice in his memory. Ah, it hadn't been long at all. The ginger dad he had helped had returned back to his clan and settled back in with ease. After the matters at paw were taken care of and Skyclan had soothed their prideful wounds, then Iniko would speak with him. He hoped this would be easy, slipping into the new routine after a sound-minded surrender like Shadowclan had offered. But this was Bloodstrike he was regarding after all. Spottedstar was gone as Dawnhawk had previously informed him. His gaze flickered to read the expression of his Skyclan ally. The pressing of Redfall seemed to have drawn his attention. But Iniko couldn't turn away from Bloodstrike now, not when there was so much more to be said.

"I'm not a fool, Bloodstrike, and I hope you aren't either. The heat of battle is the best way to know your enemy, and we have fought before, even if it does seem like sometime." His eyes seldom paused to blink as he sized up the dark tabby. Tail raised to give a silent signal, he pressed once more before allowing the deputy to find his footing, "Give me a chance to show you what Asylum has to offer." The feathery tail drifted easily through the air but stopped just before colliding with the ground. On guard, always. This was a delicate game the pair of them played. If the warrior could help get his clan to back down just enough, they could slip into tentative peace, carry on with their lives. Cats would be fed, he could go back to Tanglerose, and all would be well. His voice rose to carry across the camp and reach the dens but it's urgency never rose beyond that of casual conversation.

"No gatherings. No moonstone meetings. Our cats will accompany you on patrols throughout the territory and more walk the shadows. Feeding the collective is our goal and making sure the territory will be secure throughout the cold season. Otherwise, you may carry on with your lives, Skyclan. Let me know if the Nightstrikers get too reckless, hm?"

Pressure was lifted off of his neck, flank and belly. The instant the pressure had let off, Bloodstrike flipped to his feet with a sudden flash of movement that most would not expect a cat of his thick build to make. Still, he raised no claws and plunged no fangs into any of the foreigners near enough to him that  he could have fatally wounded them if he had chosen to do so. Though he wanted to smirk a little at their flinching and snarls of surprise at his swiftness, his face was as expressionless as stone, save for his eyes. His eyes were both burning and freezing at the same time with a hardness that could cut diamonds. If looks could kill... Iniko would have exploded.

And yet you still allowed me to stand... you are overconfident Iniko. I was a young tom when we fought. I was more merciful then. I am not who you fought all those moons ago anymore... Bloodstrike looked around the camp at the rest of his clanmates. Not a single one of them would accept foreign rule. He knew they would rather die. Beechface had already killed one of them. They all wanted to fight, as far as he knew. Accepting a foreign ruler was not in the stars for Skyclan... at least not while Bloodstrike was still standing.

"Skyclan..." He said after Iniko had finished speaking. "Don't be afraid." He looked into each and every one of their eyes that he could see before he drew a deep breath. Anyone who knew Bloodstrike knew that that always meant he was gearing up to do something unpleasant. "All of us know that Starclan lights our paths!" And there it was... Bloodstrike's goodbye to his friends, his family and his clan.

Dawnhawk gasped and opened his mouth to warn the others.

But he was too late.

"RESIST!" And with that, he spun on the Nightstriker to his right with a massive, clawed attack. In one fell swoop he severed the jugular of the pelt-wearing savage beside him. Bloodstrike wouldn't have time to give any cat a swift death, not with so many moving in to stop him. Two from behind him leaped upon his back, digging their claws in like daggers and peeling away the giant tabby's flesh.

With a hiss, Bloodstrike bolted toward the nearest tree trunk... a burned and withered thing, but still something. After gaining some speed to get to it, Bloodstrike turned and threw his body toward the trunk, using one of the nightstrikers as a buffer between himself and it. The tree was weak, far weaker than Bloodstrike expected it to be. It snapped under the sudden impact of the cats, causing Bloodstrike to roll himself and his unwanted passengers over the now jagged stump. If the nightstrikers hadn't been on his back, Bloodstrike may have impaled himself, but their bodies protected him while the massive tom's weight drove the smaller cats into the sharp points of the broken stump.

They released him once he rolled back onto his feet. He didn't have time to assess how hurt they were before more came at him, but it looked like they had been hurt enough that they were indeed having to wiggle their way off of the wooden spikes. It wasn't as deep into them as he would have liked, but it was enough to literally get them off of his back for now. Bloodstrike kicked off of the ground toward a stronger looking tree, unable to look and see how his clan was doing. The thud of the last tree boomed and echoed through the night air... and Bloodstrike was sure he heard yowls of pain thereafter.

Like a true Skyclan cat, he scaled up the tree with other nightstrikers in hot pursuit. He couldn't possibly fight this many on the ground... but he was willing to bet he was a much better warrior in the trees and he could fight them one at at time rather than all at once. He'd seen what happened to bees when ants get ahold of them. He didn't intend for that to happen to him. He jumped from the trunk to a branch that was, thankfully, strong enough to hold his weight and stood on it, finally able to keep his sides and his back unreachable. The nightstrikers weren't typically as large as he was, but they were fairly beefy. They would have just as much of a struggle finding good branches to support them as Bloodstrike.

Several of them landed on branches around the Skyclan cat, only to have it snap under their weight and send them back to the forest floor. A quick glance down at the ground and Bloodstrike could only see an entire field of angry eyes below him cutting through the darkness. Starclan save us... Bloodstrike thought as his breath temporarily left him. This was probably the end of Skyclan... and so be it. Bloodstrike was no Spottedstar. He would fight no matter the odds and would encourage his clan to do so as well. Skyclan... would you rather die on your feet or live on your bellies? He couldn't speak to his family as much as he would have wanted. He hoped they were okay. His eyes turned back to the nightstrikers in front of him.

One by one the pelt-wearers tried to attack him from the branch or knock him off of it. Bloodstrike lunged forward, swiping with claws and snapping with teeth to keep them at bay. Some lost their balance and fell to the writhing crowd below, others he managed to smack away, leaving not much more than superficial scratches at most. Two more... three more... four more... Bloodstrike was beginning to tire. They just kept coming...

So many.

And suddenly a weight was upon his back. Too much weight for the branch to withstand. It crackled and snapped, sending Bloodstrike and his attacker to the sea of whirling fangs and claws. Dawnhawk... another true Skyclan cat had successfully made his way through the branches of neighboring trees to reach his father and bring him down. Pain. So much pain. Claws and teeth tore into Bloodstrike's flesh to the point that the pain from all of the attacks blended together. Hot, sticky liquids soaked the earth around him. The weight of so many other cats finally forced him to his belly.

A slash here... a burning pain there... Bloodstrike couldn't move his limbs anymore as several had come to hold him down. Like mad dogs or zombies, they kept tearing into him.

Bloodstrike kept bleeding. His ears were sliced, his tail had a tension on it that suddenly went away followed by an explosion of fresh agony. Cheering... were the foreign cats cheering? What had they done?

"Alright enough!" Dawnhawk bellowed his voice out above the yowling and squelching of flesh. "I will not have you mouse-brained fools make a martyr of him!" And just like that... the cats stepped away from Bloodstrike... revealing a cat so bloodied and beaten he was nearly beyond recognition.

His ears had been torn in such a way that they were a different shape... more pointed and ragged. Three quarters of Blood'strike's tail was gone too, which a nightstriker held proudly between his teeth.

"Skyclan you will stand down! You're beaten! Accept it!"

It was the last thing Bloodstrike heard before a ringing in his ears overwhelmed him and darkness crept in around his vision...

"So, uh, nice day, huh?"

The enormous, perfect chungus of a cat stood not on top of Smokefeather directly but directly beside her. For Himbo Bob was a gentleman and that was most unbecoming of a gentleman. One large forepaw was placed on the tortoiseshell molly, claws sheathed. Himbo Bob was quite a large cat, weighing a solid twenty five pounds, so one paw firmly placed was enough to subdue most cats. His flame-point pelt, which was naturally sleek and long from a good diet, only helped to make him look even more physically imposing. His looks, however, were rather deceiving. Himbo Bob happened to be quite a nice fellow. Himbob, as he was called by his family and friends, happened to be a gentle soul, who really only was here for the rather attractive females -- and the food, of course.

In the land where Himbo Bob had come from, before the Asylum, there was nothing around but hills and tall grass. It was really the peaceful place. He had three siblings, two brothers and a sister. His father had practically raised them, as his mother died shortly after his eighth moon of life. Herbo Helga, his sister, had been rather interested in cloud watching as a past-time, while his brother Himbo Jim had preferred rock collecting. Himbo Bob himself had preferred to sightsee and discover new things. Blake, his other brother, had always been the odd one who was much rather suited to hunting and fighting. Such odd behaviors. Himbo Bob was quite the charmer with his ravishingly good looks. As such, it was no trouble finding a romantic partner. "Himbo Bob's the name. And what name would belong to a beauty like yourself?"


Across the clearing, the deputy of SkyClan was being beaten to a pulp by his son and the other asylum cats. He winced, "Well, he's definitely not feelin' so hot about now, huh?" Himbob muttered to nocat in particular, then glanced back down at Smokefeather, offering her a sheepish grin. "I hope you don't think us as brutes, sugarcube."

Ivypaw stirred when was pinned down by something heavy. "Wha-"Her eyes snapped open, but she froze when she felt something sharp poke her exposed neck. It didn't take long for her to analyze the situation. SkyClan was being attacked, but no one could do anything about it.

"Go aWaAaAAAaaaay," Ivypaw whined loudly. "I don't like you," she continued, attempting to paw at her attacker's face with slightly unsheathed claws while making sure she avoided the claws at her neck. One strike and she would be dead. "I don't even know who you are, so at least let me up so we can introduce ourselves or something," she huffed. She knew the intruder most likely would rather end her life than have a friendly chat, but if she seemed gullible enough it might work...

Ashpaw was afraid for her father, mother, Beechface, Primroselight, and all of her other siblings.  Well, all but one.  When Bloodstrike told them to fight, she turned to fight the cat leading her without hesitation.  Unfortunately, the other cat already anticipated her move and the cat's and her claws clashed.  Surprisingly, the smaller, weak looking cat was very strong and fast, but so was Ashpaw.  At first they were both balancing on their back legs, scratching each others stomachs. Her stomach hurt and her back legs ached, so she hopped back, causing the other cat to hit the ground and began to stumble, giving Ashpaw time to attack.  The grey she-cat sprinted to the other cat and pushed her down and Ashpaw put her front paws on the cat's chest to hold her down.  She heard something behind her and turned her head to see her father on the tree and Dawnhawk jumping on his back.  Bloodstrike fell to the ground.

The Asylum cat she had under her paws kicked her legs up and hit Ashpaw's stomach.  All of Ashpaw's air felt like it left her body, leaving her with an aching chest.  She stumbled off of the cat that she once held down and breathed heavily for a few moments before the cat leaped on Ashpaw's side and started to scratch her back.  Winded and weak Ashpaw felt like she could not do a thing.  Soon after the cat was able to push Ashpaw to the ground and pin her.

Ashpaw looked to her side, hearing Dawnhawk's voice, feeling completely defeated.  When she looked over, she saw the figure that once looked like her dad and was horrified.  All the blood around him, he did not even look like the same cat.  In a sudden burst of rage she violently scratched the cat pinning her, until she was able to push it off.  The injuries given to the Asylum cat that was pinning her were not deadly, but definitely hurt.  "NO!" She screamed over towards where Dawnhawk and her wounded father were.  Water filled her eyes and began streaming down her face.  She attempted to run towards where her father lay, but the Asylum cat, who was battling her a moment ago, stepped on her long tail.  "Dawnhawk how could you do this?" This sentence was muffled by the tears quickly falling down her face.

Her brain finally registered the last thing Dawnhawk said.  She knew she could not say thing out loud, but she thought, I'll pretend to listen for now Dawnhawk.  You need to either have an amazing explanation or you better watch your back.

Moacir turned as the voice of a young she-cat reached his ears. His head swiveled to the side, ears flicking back hesitantly at her sudden questioning. It almost sounded like an interrogation. The wide smile on his face relaxed into a more natural one, almost sorrowful in nature. "I do wish there was a more tactful way to go about this, but unfortunately..." Moacir trailed off, tail tip twitching uncomfortably. He trusted that this would work out in the end...but the process to get there was admittedly pretty rough. The white, lynx point twitched his whiskers, quickly picking up the previous sentence. "-Unfortunately, I don't make the rules."

He shifted, loathing every minute of this charade. Once Skyclan just accepted that this was how things would be from now on, he could stop acting as if traveling along a highway. Moacir looked down at the smaller cat, tired blue eyes shining with sympathy. "I understand that it's difficult, but in the end, everything here will operate much smoother if you all-" He cut himself off, spinning around to face the sudden commotion. It was over blindingly fast, but in the end, a Skyclan tom was lying limp on the ground. His fur was torn and matted with blood, tail severed and ears mauled. Moacir cringed, the scene reminding him of when the Asylum first came to his home.

His eyes widened at the state of the tom, whose name he didn't even know, nose twitching at the heavy scent of blood in the air. He slowly returned his gaze to the she-cat, visibly disturbed by the brutal attack. He didn't even know what to say after that...what could he say? The bold tom would surely succumb to his wounds. He watched the younger she-cat warily, despite being larger and older than her. He wasn't a fighter. Not to say that he didn't know how but given he often struggled to breathe if he ran or exerted himself for too long, the odds were never in his favor.