I burned your world away

Dawnhawk sat at the top of the highest tree on the highest limb he could find. Most of the trees that were in decent shape even after the fire were some of the fire-hardy pines. Dawnhawk watched like a hawk for a dark form to appear across the growing greenery of the forest. Of course, what little greenery was around was small and stunted, and would be until new-leaf. It was enough to maybe spot an abnormal shade of black against the sea of scattered gray landscape. The sun was high in the sky, but for once, it helped Dawnhawk more than normal. Instead of needing to be closer to the ground to hunt, the sun high above him concealed him just the same since he was now scouting from higher vantage points. He'd been up there for hours, patiently awaiting the arrival of the former leader of Skyclan. Well... technically Wolfstar was still leader, but at this point more of a figurehead.

I had the guts to so what you couldn't, Bloodstrike. He thought to himself as he hid in the sun. Finally, he spotted a black tabby form on the horizon. Perfect. "He's here." Dawnhawk called down to the bored shadows waiting below him. He climbed carefully down the tree and started off in Wolfstar's direction. The shadows were beside him at first, but with a flick of his tail, they veered off into the brush, invisible, until he would signal for them again.

"Wolfstar!" Dawnhawk called out to get his grandfather's attention. He slowed himself to a smooth halt about a fox-length away from Wolfstar. "Skyclan is fine but... I have news..." Just in case Wolfstar had already picked up the scent of unfamiliar cats... Dawnhawk was going to make it look like he wasn't involved... at least for now.

More than quarter moon of fruitless searching had led Wolfstar back home. He'd followed his brother's trail for what seemed like an eternity, growing ever more hopeful with each sign of Juniperlight that he found - a nest here, laden with SkyClan scent, where his brother had bedded down for the night; the remains of a sloppy kill, cast aside when the edible bits had gone. From SkyClan's territory, to no-cat's territory, Wolfstar followed, and searched, and prayed to StarClan that he'd find Juniperlight unharmed.

But as the eighth night passed, and the mountainscape loomed ahead of him, closer than he'd ever been, or ever wanted to, Wolfstar turned away. He'd heard stories of the mountains: cold, unforgiving terrain that could swallow the most skilled and hardy of cats. The SkyClan leader was strong, and he had the power of StarClan thrumming through his veins, but he couldn't take the chance that he'd make a mistake, and leave his clan leaderless for the second time in as many moons.

"ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, SPOTTEDSTAR?!" He'd bellowed into the sky before he left. "ARE YOU HAPPY NOW THAT YOU'VE TAKEN HIM FROM ME, TOO?!"

But his father did not answer him, and nor did the mountain.

...

The journey back was quicker. He had no trail to follow, no leads to pursue, just his own increasingly tumultuous thoughts to drive him towards home. By the time he recognized the territory he was in, it was growing dark on the eleventh day since his departure. He'd missed the Gathering, though no doubt Bloodstrike was enjoying the chance to lead the clan there himself. He'd have to ask how it went... but first his mind and body both ached for sleep, to curl up with Blossomstep and let her presence melt away his anxieties.

In his distant state, he almost missed the foreign scent.

Wolfstar's paw kicked up a cloud of ash and dust, and with it the plume brought something... different. Another cat. Not SkyClan. Not ThunderClan. In fact, this scent had no clan scent at all. His brow furrowed, and he paused, trying to place it. Was it Summer, perhaps? He hadn't seen the willowy she-cat in quite a long time. But no, that didn't seem quite right, either, because there was something he just couldn't place...

Suddenly on edge, the leader lifted his head, amber eyes scanning the surrounding landscape. He saw Dawnhawk only a moment before his grandson called out to him, and Wolfstar relaxed ever so slightly. Perhaps he could explain. "News..?" He searched Dawnhawk's expression. "Good news, I hope?"

Dawnhawk watched his grandfather's reactions carefully. He seemed... possibly aware of what might be going on, but not quite yet. Dawnhawk watched figures behind him slowly begin to creep forward with impressive silence. The pale tom debated what he should do. Inform him of the current situation and try to convert him, or act as if he had no original involvement and was doing this to save his family. The debate didn't take long.

"Good news... maybe. I think so. It is good that we are no longer under the pitiless rule of Starclan but..." He flicked his tail as inconspicuously as possible. That was the signal. The shadows rushed forward and sought to devour Wolfstar as they had done to Bloodstrike. Claws and teeth straight for the vitals of the unsuspecting tom.

"This is a big change that we all should start getting used to... and it will involve your cooperation." Dawnhawk spoke robotically, trying to do both plans that he had in his head. He made it sound as if he had no choice in the matter to try to convert his leader to the Asylum's cause. With Bloodstrike out of commission for stars knew how long, Wolfstar's submission would be a great tool for the Asylum to use... if they could achieve it.

Wolfstar was well aware of his grandson's distaste for StarClan. It was something that he knew Bloodstrike, too, shared... something that he hoped his son would grow out of in time, especially after being named deputy. So far, he'd seen no progress on that front, but it wasn't something he had given up on just yet... and he hoped that he could change Dawnhawk's opinion of StarClan, too...

"Dawnhawk, what-" he started. Wolfstar didn't finish his sentence.

He felt rather than saw or heard the shadows come alive, charging, menacing, threatening. The first one reached him quicker than the others, claws reaching, searching for blood, and Wolfstar snarled, whirling around on the intruder. The two cats battled for mere seconds, the attacker having been reliant on the element of surprise that he hadn't had, and in a flash, Wolfstar's fangs were sank in the asylum tom's throat. Warm blood gushed from the killing wound, and the cat stumbled, gasping and spurting gore across the frigid ground. But there were so many of them, and no matter how hard he fought, he'd never be able to defeat them all.

He sank beneath the mass of cats, and finally when there was no fight within him, he lay there, bloodied, flank heaving with the exertion it took to draw breath with the weight of the captors atop him. "What is the meaning of this?!" he spat, flecks of gore-spittle staining his grandson's bright pelt.

Dawnhawk watched in grim silence as Wolfstar was swarmed. Apparently the nightstrikers weren't as efficient at their jobs as Theron thought. It irritated him to watch one go down, choking to death on his own blood. Wolfstar finally was pinned and no more dead Nightstrikers fell to the ground. Well if nothing else, Dawnhawk got to watch the weakest of them get culled.

"Skyclan is under the rule of the Asylum. There are hundreds of cats that roam Skyclan territory, so fighting is futile and will inevitably lead to your demise." At this point, he nodded once at Wolfstar as if to signal him saying, "You should stop. Trust me." He waited a moment for it to sink in, ignoring the blood that now spackled his white fur. He didn't love it, but he needed to stay focused on the task at paw.

"You don't have a choice. None of us do. Bloodstrike tried to fight them all and now... well we don't know where he is. Please... for the sake of our clan, stop resisting. We need our leader. I can give you all of the answers to your questions back at camp." And Dawnhawk gave Wolfstar his most convincing begging, barely not-hidden fearful look in his eye. He wanted his leader to believe that he was just as powerless and afraid... but was not with the rest of the Asylum by choice...

OOC: Odd numbers, he believes him, even numbers, he doesn't. This was agreed upon by the respective roleplayers. Dice roll.... go!

The member 'Tara' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Effect Dice' : 4

SkyClan, under the rule of the Asylum. Hundreds of cats on SkyClan territory. Bloodstrike... gone..?

The words spun around in Wolfstar's head, repeating over and over, but not truly meaning anything to him. His eyes, narrowed to slits, were fixated with deadly focus on Dawnhawk's face, reading every sign, every micro-expression, desperate for something to prove his instinct wrong, but coming up empty. Wolfstar bared his teeth, shifting beneath the cats that held him, and felt claws at his throat so close that blood welled beneath them.

The leader stilled, his grandson's words finally permeating the fog of rage and disbelief that had seized him. Bloodstrike was missing. That meant SkyClan was leaderless right now. Wolfstar closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them and fixated the golden tom with a stare. "Very well then," he said icily. "I know when I am beaten. If there is truly no harm intended to befall SkyClan, I yield." His eyes never left Dawnhawk. "Now take me to my clan."

Dawnhawk searched Wolfstar's face desperately for any kind of clue of what went on in his head. He found very little to go on... as the rage could be attributed to the current situation. Still... the stare Wolfstar gave him made him uneasy. He wasn't sure that his grandfather bought his act. Ah well... Dawnhawk wasn't smart because he came from a lineage of mouse-brained idiots. Dawnhawk nodded at the Nightstrikers to release Wolfstar, but tilted his head in a way to signal a specific formation around the dark tom. I'm not going to just trust that you won't bury your fangs into the back of my skull grandfather. Sorry. The Nightstrikers formed an oblong shape around Wolfstar, some even with their backs to him, but otherwise were to act as a shield for Dawnhawk. One Nightstriker was at Wolfstar's left and one at his right, with two more behind him not more than a tail-length away.

Dawnhawk then turned and began to lead the way, though the Nightstrikers waited until he was two fox-lengths away before marching on their oblong formation. The pale tom was taking absolutely no chances. Wolfstar didn't become the leader, or turned Bloodstrike into the warrior he was now, by being a stars-awful warrior or a complete mouse-brained moron.