March Gathering 2022

"Dad!" The shrill cry was muffled by the other wails of terror that went up across the clearing. He had barely registered that the bloody cat in front of them was Dawnhawk– distantly, he must have registered it, but... but hearing it announced– and he barely had time to process it, when Bloodstar was surging forward with all his weight. And Dawnhawk was gone, like he'd never been there, and their leader– his father had hit the ground in a bloody heap. Any arrogant sense of bravery had rushed out of Newtspring the second the moon had darkened; now, he felt entirely cold, like he was one of the dead surrounding them, slaying them.

That isn't possible, the tom silently assured himself. Bloodstar isn't– Dad can't just die like that. But his legs, trembling and rooted him in place, his slack jaw, blown pupils and pinned ears betrayed his true fear and uncertainty. But Bloodstar was standing– struggling, and the blood pouring from his father almost made Newtspring retch again –but he was standing either way. Spottedfrog raced to press against his neck, and her mouth was moving, but... his ears were ringing too much to make out whatever she was saying. He twisted around to look for their half-brother, but the tom had already sauntered away into the crowd, as if it was nothing.

Orchidmask and Pigeonsun were near him, too. Almost, he was comforted by them. But beyond them, Beechfang was in the dirt, a cat wreathed in shadows and ice shoving her further into the ground.

The sight of it stirred some vague sense of life back into Newtspring, and numbly, he took a shaky step. Then another, then he was kicking off the ground.


Beechfang went down easily, despite the way she flailed and slashed at empty air, and Shrikestep's grinned widened at the sight of her struggle. Rage burned off of her, hot and heavy, and the dark molly dug her weight in harder, pinning the SkyClanner as well as she could. For good measure, she flexed her claws, gripping her ribs. Nothing fatal, not even anything that would really scar or be sore for more than a few suns... but it drew blood.

Hot, fresh blood.

Shrikestep's usually glittering eyes brightened further, alight with a sense of enthusiasm that was strange even for the disconcerting presence. "Don't be like that, Beechfang!" She cried, something like genuine hurt in her voice. Finally, a few blows connected with her. Something thick and blood-like welled under her fur, but it was too dark and tacky to have come from any living creature. A howl of a laugh rose from her, accompanied even by her throwing her head back, before she dropped dramatically to shove her nose right into Beechfang's– even if it meant more claws raking against her face.

"Dear, I'm allied with no one. I'm alive." Shrikestep corrected, lilting voice dripping with cloying honey. "Though... if Morningstar can rip down that ghastly Bloodstar, I'm not opposed. But... What changed so suddenly, hm? I thought you hated the stars, Beechfang. I thought you liked my help. We had plans, remember? I chose you. I chose your niece." Hollyshine had yet to cross her line of sight, but the tortoiseshell couldn't escape her forever. "You would do well to remember that."

For a moment, she left her jaw parted, ready to keep prattling on with her enthusiasm. Before she could press further, a heavy weight rammed into her own ribs, ripping her off of Beechfang with chunks of pale fur still caught in her claws. Shrikestep screeched and thrashed wildly, kicking out at her attacker, and not at all lost on the irony that she'd swiftly been put in the same place as her prey. The tabby that had leaped on her planted heavy paws to her shoulder, her hips, the strength inherent to SkyClan cats weighing her down. "Don't you ever touch my sister again." Newtspring snarled, low and guttural, and Shrikestep only spat in response.


Cloverheart wasn't sure when she'd got back to her paws. Cats screamed around her, and among the din, the churning of distant pawsteps burned against her ears. With it came the stench of carrion, stale blood, and death, and the medicine cat stiffened and stumbled away from it, staggering into the throbbing heart of the cloud.

The leaders were calling to the Clans, bickering amongst each other among the din. And then the death-scent deepend, and pillars of muck vaguely shaped like her kin loomed around the edges of Fourtrees. The darkness congealed around her, settling into the comfortably worn pelts of countless different cats, some mud-soaked, others with endless blood pooling at their feet. Cloverheart shivered, and ducked away, pretending she didn't see the fearsome beasts. She kept her head low as she ducked through the crowd, staggering between bodies of cats rooted in place, of cats trying to make a desperate attempt to flee.

An unfamiliar voice rose above the din, commanding and clear. She couldn't see its owner, though. Almost mindlessly, the small molly changed courses to amble towards it. Glassy eyes kept fixed firmly on the muddied, churned snow underpaw. Between the words of the voice she was tracking towards, she heard Jaystar's overly-sweet call, and cringed against it. The words were almost hard to make out... but Cloverheart just shook her head. He's odd like that.

Eventually, she found herself spinning towards the front of the crowd, shouldering between the ring of spectators in perfect time to watch the chaos unfold. A pale tom had raked his claws through Bloodstar– had he really? It'd been too quick to see. One minute, they were leaping at each other, then SkyClan's hulking leader was on the floor, blood pooling from throat to rib. Cats were rushing to his side in a heartbeat, wailing to their Clanmates as they forced their leader onto his paws. Disgust and terror stirred in her, forcing her fur to stand on end. Something more horrifying needled at the back of her mind, though, as she watched the display:

Didn't you want this? She balked against her own coldness, and twisted the other way. And again in perfect rhythm, she caught of Beechfang's familiar pelt getting rocked into the earth. A dark cat Cloverheart had never seen held the former medicine cat to the earth, grinning wickedly. And she held Beechfang down like it was nothing; like the SkyClanner was just a kit, flailing helplessly in protest was just a kit, not like massive paws poised to rip her throat from her neck.

Cloverheart turned back towards Bloodstar and his triage, unable to bear the sight of Beechfang struggling. Her stomach curdled. The feeling was instinctual; a natural, blood-borne drive to see SkyClan struggle. To see them brought to the earth, some act of repentance.

To see Beechfang, writhing in the dirt.

Pain flashed from the left side of her skull. Why had she even wanted that?

Her legs–

The golden ghost that had ripped Bloodstar nearly in half wordlessly went by her, clearing her sight line as he disappeared. A darker cat, tall and sleek, took his place in front of her.

I know you. Mindlessly, her paws drew her forward, carrying her in a wide berth around Bloodstar's deserdly-dying stance, until she came face to face with him. Purple eyes flashed in the red light.

Twolegplace, Basilbloom and the others surrounding her, pressed up in her memory. That first night there– wandering away, to sit and stare at the golden stars, so close she could reach out a paw and pull them from the twoleg's sky–

"You." She breathed, the words both broken with terror and pointed with accusation. "What– what's... tell me." Cloverheart insisted, sharp and fractured. "Answer me."


Comfreypaw was silent, no answers to be found amidst the chaos. Daypaw pressed against his sister, wanting to offer what he could for comfort. I don't know, either. He wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat. He could feel Eveningpaw shivering beside him, and agitation rolled off of Waterlily's pelt in waves. Daypaw swallowed thickly. We'll... make it out of this. We'll protect each other.

A large, ginger cat took shape in front of their group. She announced herself as Vixentooth, voice surprisingly sweet. Almost, Daypaw was swayed by it– almost –but the rest of his family bristled against her. His mother stepped forward, screeching at the apparition to leave them be. Quietly, the thin tom shoved himself forward to stand in front of his mother, his siblings. "Th-thank you, Vixentooth. Please don't hurt us." He forced out. But a new set of pained wails went up around him, and any bravery left Daypaw as he caught sight of the source. He didn't step back– even when Waterlily urged them all to –but he shrank towards the earth, flattening himself into the ground.

The pale tom that had first summoned the gruesome army had caught the largest leader that had been atop the Great Rock against his claws. The scene was distant, but even from where he crouched, Daypaw could see the staggering amount of blood that rushed out of him.

Not only that, that same cat came weaving through the crowd. Searching. And slowly drawing closer to him, to his family.

Up close, there was something more horrifying about the tom. Uncanny. Daypaw shuddered. Aside from the weeping gash in his neck–

"We look the same." Daypaw breathed. He shook his head, trying to clear the sob that welled up inside him, but a broken noise rattled out of his chest. And Waterlily was shouldering forward, announcing herself to him, insisting her kits stay back. "No! Mom." The tom cried, stumbling back to height and shouldering in front of her. "Don't... don't sac‐ sacrifice yourself to him. I can't let you."

He had been there, the whole time, watching it all unravel before his eyes. Everything seemed fine and then.. then it all went dark and changed.. Stars.. To see these ghastly cats before him? Their open wounds, and blood dripping on to the forest floor like some trophies to be worn! Of course the second it all happened.. To see Loudnose taken down like that.. Stars.. It had the black lanky tom reacting on instinct.

Batglow was forcing himself to race through the crowd shoving by cat after cat. This was his clan they were messing with, his clan mates! He didn't care if there were tons of them, or if they were stronger than him! He couldn't let them get away with it. Of course just as the tall Shadowclan warrior almost made it to their side someone stepped in the way.

More quickly than she'd expected, the spotted tom intercepted her paws, and Rainstrike felt her claws score against Bearspirit's pelt instead. She hooked them in, dragging down viciously as the two tumbled to the ground in a writhing heap. Rainstrike smirked, the feel of the tom's claws in her own pelt sending a shiver of pleasure up her spine. Oh, it had been so long since she'd felt that... she missed it. Again, claws raked against her, this time her flank, and she glanced over her shoulder, neck suddenly bent at a sharp, unnatural angle, to see the she-cat had come to her mate's rescue.

"How romantic, the two of you," Rainstrike crooned, snapping her head back front and center with a disgusting grind of bone-on-bone. She rushed forward and reared on to her hind legs, slashing already-bloodied claws across the middle of the RiverClan tom's face. Her single icy eye glowed blue in the darkness, the shadows around her seeming to grow and writhe and almost devour Bearspirit as she bore down on him with reckless abandon. He went down, still fighting, but Rainstrike pinned him with an unnatural, immovable strength, one that couldn't be replicated by a cat whose body and soul was still tethered to the world of the living. But Bearspirit wouldn't have to worry about that, for long... she would free him of his shackles.

The former ThunderClan she-cat leaned in, her muzzle brushing against his ear. "You're welcome," she whispered, and then with not a word more, she plunged her fangs into his neck. Rainstrike felt the throb of a pulse against her tongue, hot, wet liquid that spilled from the RiverClan tom's neck and dribbled through her clenched jaws, staining her pale pelt crimson. For a second, both of them were engulfed in shadow, and then the ghostly she-cat ground her jaw, ripping through the flesh and muscle of his neck as she tugged downward. A spray of warm blood covered her face, and Rainstrike closed her eye, basking momentarily in the warmth as it almost sizzled against her frigid pelt.

And then she stepped away, turning slowly towards Swiftspirit and tilting her head. Again, the neck bent at an unnatural angle before straightening as Rainstrike took a step forward, licking the gore from her lips and leaving Bearspirit's body in the throes of death behind her. "Now that that's done," she whispered to Swiftspirit, voice low and raspy with a fevered exhilaration. She surged forward, slamming into the WindClan she-cat, and sinking claws to the knuckle into her flesh. "You have my attention."

Rainstrike used Killing Bite on Bearspirit, and turned to re-engage with Swiftspirit.

As Tarot was attentively watching everything unfold around him, he almost didn't notice the familiar scent of a particular medicine cat approaching him. Honestly, he would've preferred to be left in peace, watching the tragic play churn around him, drinking in every detail and committing it to memory. As he was addressed though, he knew he couldn't ignore the scarred, nostalgically familiar molly he met once so long ago. After all, she walked right in front of him, demanding answers, he could give her them to, if he felt so inclined.

The days of trading stories and enjoying each other’s company seemed millennium away from where they had met now. Just as swiftly, the dangerous glint in his eye faded as his mask returned, seeming as genuine as ever.

He tilted his head, gazing at her for a moment before answering with a slightly raised brow. "My dear, you'll have to be more specific than just 'what'." The blood of the Skyclan leader had long since reached his paws, slowly seeping into his fur. Morningstar had made quite the messy kill, not that he could judge. He could tell though, the molly was scared"Your frightened, understandably so. The stars have been hidden away, monsters created by the actions of others have risen from the dead, peace has been tossed to the side as blood is spilt." He hummed, As level-headed as always. His gaze drifted back over the crowd, he doubted he could salvage whatever he and Clover had before, not after she had forgotten his face, only to remember it during such a disturbing time. Terrible association. "It always comes eventually. Consequences. Peace can never last forever, for the fickle minds of cats inevitably set war into motion. An endless cycle. SO similar, yet so different to the streets of the twolegplace..." he watched it all with a slight smile, an echo of the excitement upon his face from before, "I never thought I'd witness a history-defining moment like this though."

'Witness', not, 'start', not 'assist'. In the end, Tarot always saw himself more as an observer rather then an inciter of such moments. Cataloguing all he could into the well of knowledge he tried to grow and locking it away inside his head. Sure, he could likely put events such as this into motion if he was inclined to, but that rarely was the goal these days. When he struck out into the forest, wanting to bend it to his will, he never suspected he'd end up preferring to just watch as one rogue, with a tragic backstory, forged forward on a path of his own making. As he had mused to himself before, it was fascinating, watching such changes, drastic in nature, happen in a single cat.

He blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts, and looked back down at the accusing glare of the medicine cat, "But as an observer, I could possibly give you some answers, depending on the nature of your questions. Is that what you want? Or are you perhaps just searching for a pillar of familiarity in such unfamiliar turmoil?" He cocked his head inquisitively, eyes bright with re-ignited fascination of the world around him.

Tarot was walking the tightrope between being comforting an unsettling. With the nightmare-level things happening around him, his distant curiosity and calmness could easily make one's skin crawl. Yet that same calamity could also make his seeming detachedness reassuring, some level of normality in the abnormal situation around them.

He knew this well, and honestly was intrigued to see how Cloverheart was going to react to it. Would she attack him in a fit of aggression, or just be left confused and uncertain? He was acting as he always did whenever they had met, but it was out-of-place given the scene around them. What sort of mental affect would that have on a single cat?

Softpaw crept through the crowds staying low to the ground a wide snarl on his face.  If he were not so focused on his rage and hatred for riverclan he would have been very scared right now with all the DF cats running around... but as it was he saw it as the perfect opportunity to get a little revenge for all the mistreatings Riverclan had done to Thunderclan. Riverclan had taken their land, starved his friends and family and he had convinced himself that Starclan was punishing all the clans now for the greed of the fish eaters.

His eyes burned with a deep rage as he continued to (incorrectly) reason that Riverclan was the source of this gathering going sideways as he continued on with his self assigned "mission".  Thinking quickly he rolled in some nearby mud he found to 1) blend in and 2) lose his Thunderclan scent he didnt need that right now, the last thing he needed was to get caught.

His nose twitched as he caught the familar stentch of his long time self made rivals.  Sitting there together were 3 of them all huddled together trying to keep safe during all this pandemonium.  Softpaws fangs and claws glistened in whatever little light still remained his green evil eyes poking out of the darkness.  He circled the group from the shadows until he was back behind them.  Taking a final glance around for any potential witnesses he crept forward.   No one was watching everyone was worried about where their clanmates and loved ones were.  With a sudden burst of speed he launched himself at one of the smaller Riverclan cats who he assumed to be either an apprentice or a very very young warrior, in either case he was convident that the element of suprise and the added bonus of all the chaos and confuison he would have no trouble picking some of them off.  Even if he could take out one of them that was one less invader left for Riverclan to hog up all of Sunningrocks with.

Pouncing with claws out and jaws open wide he ploughed into Beaverpaw bowling the young much smaller she cat over away from her allies before beginning a relentless barrage of claw rakings down the Riverclan cats body.  His rage driving him he did not stop and only kept increasing the pressure.  

"Too long has Riverclan hogged all of Thunderclans rightfully owned territory, tonight you pay!"   he said in a low hiss whisper to the Riverclan cats ear as he pushed her into the hard frozen ground.  He kept smacking with his front paws until an opening arised when he could take the final shot!

"Any last words...?"

Seeing the opportunity he hesitated... but only for a moment! as he plunged his jaws down in a clamp around Beaverpaws neck and applied as much biting pressure as he could. He held on not letting go until he felt her go entirely limp.

Softpaw used Killing Strike Beaverpaw is dead after stags confirms the kill / gets to make final post for beaver including final words or anything else like that... yes I got permission to do so :)


The taste of blood felt strange in his mouth and he spit it out dropping Beaverpaw to the ground as if tossing away unwanted prey.  He spun around to the other Riverclan cats who he hated so much and launched himself at the oldest one now, feeling much more confident after what he had just done. He struck at Hollyleaf scratching away at her now trying to inflict as much damage as possible.  He knew that with the suprise element gone he would not be able to take on a fully trained warrior but if he could weaken her as well he would consider it a victory and at least a stunning blow to Riverclan's defensive resources for a time to come.

Softpaw is attacking Hollyleaf but does not plan to stay engaged for long Hollyleaf (Arcana) can post but he is running after that

Burrpaw watched in abject horror as Bloodstar was sliced open by Dawnhawk. "You spineless murderer!"

He looked to the sky and there was nothing looking back at him. Not Birdsong, not Graybird, not anyone. Burrpaw didn't think of himself as strongly religious, but this shattered his whole world.

"You sold yourself to the Dark Forest, you couldn't have fought him fair and square!"

Burrpaw is open for combat. Killing blow allowed as long as it's a righteous death. And as long as we can retcon some NPC blood in SkyClan, because heaven knows we need it.

---------------

Talon leaped up to Highrock, cackling away, his body shaking from the demented laughter made all the more haunting by him being above the chaos on the ledge.

"Yes, yes! Your corpses will feed my brethren, a noble sacrifice!"

"FOR THE BIRDS! COME TO ME, WINGED HARBRINGERS OF NIGHT!"

The small sandy colored tom paced on top of Highrock, continuing his rambling.

"Your precious stars mean less than rats' tails, this is what you get for worshipping false idols! REPENT!"

He leaped down from Highrock to Morningstar's side, flexing claws, ready to fight.

Talon is a Tier 1 Rogue as of this post and is in the middle of the pack between Morningstar and the DF cats.

Mistysky jumped as she felt a cat at her side, almost whirling around to claw her, having expected a dark forest cat. Luckily, she didn't get the chance to take it that far before she recognized the started voice of Batsong. She let out a small, shaky breath, Batsong by her side being a lone good thing in a sea of bad ones. But it calmed her nerves all the same. At least she knew Batsong was safe, and she was where Mistysky could protect her. That alone was a miracle.

But all of a sudden, Batsong mentioned Rosepaw? Right, of course, one of Batsong's friends. With an affirming nod, Mistysky let Batsong lead her through the crowd, half of her mind focused on making sure none of those mudbloods touched her proclaimed-kit, the other half actually searching for Rosepaw.

"Rosepaw! Where are you?"

Mistysky is with Batsong and is looking for Rosepaw

Raisha narrowed her eyes as Emberleap spoke. "My, you've grown to be confident. You know, now that I think about it, I think Shira told me about you! How you decided to end up in....ShadowClan, was it? I had some good fun with one of your Clanmates! Well, I guess she didn't find it too fun. I guess a gaping hole in a cat's neck will ruin that for some cats. Say, did you happen to know her? I never managed to catch her name. Pity, because she was in Asylum, just like us! In fact, she was even Dawnhawk's kit! Can you believe it?"

Tawnyflare/Raisha is taunting Emberleap

Aether is still looking very uncomfortable in the crowd of df cats

Comfreypaw was a second away from launching at this thing. Her tail trashed around in an attempt to contain her anger as Daypaw leaned into her. She felt strengthened by her brother's touch. If this 'Vixentooth' monster made a hostile move- Comfreypaw was so ready to make her regret breathing. Was it even breathing? She had to admit she knew dangerously little of her enemy, but that did not deter her furious glare.

However that glare shifted slightly to fear as Daypaw pressed ahead of her towards the ginger ghost. Don't do that.. she silently hissed as he spoke to it. The apprentice became more and more tense as another undead approached, and her littermates became even more upset. Keeping her eyes locked upon her foes, the she-cat stood protectively over Daypaw's crouched form. This new tom bared little resemblance to herself, but it was too odd how much he looked like all of her brothers in one way or another. Comfreypaw was afraid of what that meant.

She wanted to growl as Waterlily and Daypaw started trying to sacrifice themselves to the bleeding ghost. Comfreypaw decided to not do the same. Not that she wouldn't, just that it didn't seem the right course of action. We have to be strong together, we will ALL make it out alive, she thought to herself as she stood near Darkpaw and Eveningpaw, keeping herself between them and the strangers. "We'll be okay," she spoke softly to her brothers, "Just stay near me or Mom. I know you can be brave." All that initial fear from Starclan leaving was zapped away, now the one-day warrior was more than willing to fight. She was angry. Furious. These shadowy dung-eaters would feel her claws against their ugly muzzles.

Mallowskip cackled as he entered the gathering. "Oh... It'so good to... be back after such a l-long time!" A wide smile spread on his face and his eyes narrowed. The tom was covered in sores and would shiver in an unsettling way every few moments. He casually waltzed into the crowd. It was a shame. Nobody who he had the displeasure of meeting when he was alive was there anymore. "Tsk." What was here was pitiful, though. "P-pathetic, you all're." There were two types of cats. Those who thought they could fight, and those who cowered and hid. That would have to change. There was no doubt that they'd eventually give in and join them. "Maybe, if you all weren't s-so stupid, you'd... see which side is t-truly in a' right." He sneered to no cat in particular.

---

Smallbean felt like he was going to vomit. The clearing felt like it was closing in around him. Every event happened in quick succession and Smallbean had almost no time to register it. First the moon, then Dawnhawk, then the Dark Forest, then Bloodstar. He felt bile rising in his throat but managed to keep it down. It was like what happened when the Righteous Few came all over again, or the Asylum. Except, these cats felt much stronger, and there was more of them.

What was he supposed to do? Who was he supposed to run to? Every other cat had kin to confide in, but he was all alone here. Suddenly, a flash of black and white in his peripheral. There was no way. Squeezing between groups of cats, he ran across the gathering toward where he saw the glimpse of fur. "Rookfire?" He sprinted toward the larger tom, practically in tears from the combination of stress and happiness. "You made it back safe! I'm so happy! Why didn't you tell me you were back? How long have you been back for?" He buried his face in Rookfire's fur. He knew that this wasn't the time nor place for a reunion, but he couldn't help himself. He needed someone to be with, and the fact that Rookfire was here made him feel a lot better about the clans' current situation [not by much, though. He still thinks they're doomed.]


Mallowskip is judging you
Smallbean is crying to Rookfire

For a moment, everything was terror. In the mass of dark shadows, crimson pelts, the absolute cacophony ringing through the air, Perchfall wasn't sure if anyone could hear her. She wasn't sure if anything would work out. For a moment, an image blazed in her mind's eye-- Ashflight hanging limp, not from the jaws of a fox, but from a bloodthirsty shade with evil pinpricks for eyes like the ones roaming the Gathering now. Like the ones who she had just seen murder a ShadowClan cat a few paces away.

But then, he appeared. Finally, Ashflight was within her sight, and he was alive. He was uninjured. However... he was not okay. A single glance at his panic-stricken green eyes told her everything she needed to know. He was in the same place she had been a moment ago... reliving old memories. Forced into an unthinking state of fear. She didn't even blink when he pushed himself into her fur, almost collapsing under the weight of whatever nightmares hung over him. Hung over them all. "Thank StarClan you're safe," she murmured, relief managing to break through her tone. She was once again still and quiet, no longer seized by quite the same terror that had grasped her a minute ago. Everything was still awful, of course. If she thought about what was happening, she would be reduced to the same state as her friends. But she couldn't. Poppypaw and Ashflight were both leaning on her. They needed her. If she were to show her feelings, if she were to be afraid-- she didn't know what would happen. And she didn't want to. She would be their rock, again, if she had to.

The arrival of Robinpatch was a welcome one. The deputy nodded gratefully at him as he began to soothe her friend, making practiced calming words that would never flow as naturally from her tongue. In contrast, the best she could do was hold still-- her tail still wrapped around Poppypaw's fragile form, her shoulder under Ashflight's head for him to lean on. Nothing she said would have helped anyway. There was a second where it seemed like things might be okay. And then, several things happened.

First, one of the interlopers approached them. A Dark Forest cat. A ghost. A shade. First sounding friendly, then threatening. The stench rolling off of her made Perchfall's stomach do somersaults, but she stood still. Her fur began bristling at the hostility of the foreign she-cat. At least she hadn't done anything-- yet. But the insults and the veiled threats were anxiety-inducing. The ghost seemed to notice, and relish in it. Every ounce of blood coursing through the deputy's veins begged her to go, to leave, to run, to get out get out get out!-- but she couldn't. That wasn't an option. Everyone was depending on her. Even though, a few feet away, claws sliced through Bearspirit's neck. Don't think about it. Even though, behind her in the crowd, the apprentice she'd talked to at ThunderClan's border bit the throat of Beaverpaw, who had run to her at her first Gathering. Don't. Don't think about it. You can deal with that later. Be strong, be strong, be strong...

With a conscious effort, Perchfall shut out the wailing, terrified voices that assaulted her from both inside and outside of her mind. Every bit of authority she had been unworthily given rose up from inside her, fabricating an imposing presence that would make the most bloodthirsty rogue pause for a moment to consider their actions. Then, fully aware of each cat who depended on her in this moment-- innocent young Poppypaw, friendly senior warrior Robinpatch, her dear friend Ashflight-- she summoned all the courage within herself and spoke. "Leave them alone," she meowed firmly, every inch the disdainful, stoic deputy. Ice-blue eyes looked down on the death-defying ghost with no outward sign of emotion other than a faint contempt. "Do not betray your lack of knowledge by acting so irrationally. I'm sure that you have eyes, despite every other part of your body being in obvious decay. Jaystar, the leader of RiverClan, knows you. He can vouch for every one of us. If you dare to lay claw or fang on a single one of my companions, not only will you face his wrath, and that of the rest of your filthy comrades, but also the ire of Perchfall, deputy of RiverClan." Her gaze narrowed slightly, even as her heart beat faster. "I pray you do not make such a foolish mistake." Despite her imperceptible terror, and the mangled cries running through her head, she meant every word that she spoke.

Perchfall is talking to Silversnake, and protecting Ashflight, Poppypaw and Robinpatch.

Viperfang cackled openly, bounding over to Softpaw who was still covered in blood. The moment he saw that ruthlessness in the greens of his eyes, the same green eyes that his mother and his grandfather before him bore, he knew what he was looking at. To think their line had survived in ThunderClan, he'd been worried that their clan had become a bunch of soft-bellied fools, but it seemed at least of them was worthy of their legacy. A true ThunderClanner that revelled in the blood of those fish-eating freaks.

"You are perfect. What is your name, child? What do they call you?" The spotted tom asked the grey apprentice, green eyes glimmering with pride and unabashed curiosity.

Viperfang addresses Softpaw.

Softpaw spun around as some stranger addressed him blood of Beaverpaw still dripping down his chin.

"hmm" he said a bit confused at first as to who this cat was. Were they upset at what they had just witnessed. He had tried to be so careful to get away with this unseen.

You are perfect... You are perfect... You are perfect... The words echoed in his ears... no one had ever said something so ... complementary of him before

hmm this cat was praising him??... finally!!! someone who understood the evil deeds Riverclan had committed and the price they needed to pay. Wiping the excess blood off his face and lowering the hair on his back he gave a twisted grin at the disgusting act he had just committed. He cautiously but proudly walked over to this stranger... hmm their eyes matched and clearly their morals did up to some point as well.

"Name's Softpaw!" he said confidently.

"and you are?" he asked purely curious at this point his head tilted in pure curiosity, there was no sign of fear at all on Softpaw and the truth was... he really was not afraid of these Dark Forest cats... perhaps because deep down he saw a bit of a reflection of himself in them.

Beaverpaw was scared. So scared. She clung to Hollyleafs, wailing at the top of her lungs like a kit. Honestly, she wasn't more than a kit. Why did RiverClan need her as an apprentice so bad? She didn't want this. She didn't want this terror. She wanted to see a butterfly for the first time, that's it. She wanted to make friends, and play. She wanted to see a flower, too. She wanted to swim in the warm waters. This was all too much for her. She didn't even know how to fight, and she didn't want to. Pressed against Hollyleaf was the safest she could be right now. The little comfort she had left.

But then she wasn't. Before she could blink, claws furiously attacked her. Crying and shrieking out, Beaverpaw stood no chance. Nothing had prepared her for this. The pain was unbearable really. And finally it stopped for a brief moment. Her blood leaked out around her, slipping away like the river she called home. Her eyesight was hazy and growing darker. Head lulling to the side, her gaze met Hollyleaf's eyes for the last time. "I... I... I want my mom..." Who was her mom, really?

She couldn't remember anymore.

She couldn't remember anything.

She felt nothing, knew nothing, as she gasped her last breath and summoned to the nothingness.

Beaverpaw is dead.

This was something she'd not expected. A ThunderClan apprentice, from what she could sniff out against the commotion behind her.

"I... I... I want my mom..."

Those were the few last words she heard Beaverpaw say before she was gone. Her ears flattened, and her paws trembled with unimaginable grief. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, dear Beaverpaw.

A split second, Beaverpaw was already underneath the ThunderClan apprentice's grasp, and another, she fell limp, thrown to the side like dead prey. For a moment, she denied it. But as the scent of death rose, Hollyleaf gritted her teeth, claws instinctively unsheathing at the amount of pressure she'd inserted to them now. Mintpool was already out of her reach, and poor, poor Beaverpaw.. right in front of her eyes.

Daringly, the apprentice shot to her, lunging and seeking damage. The molly hissed, fur bristling as claws raked against her skin. This apprentice.. really was daring. Much more experienced, the she-cat roared, bowling the apprentice over until she was now the one pinning him down. "You're absolutely out of your mind, apprentice!" She snarled, eyes narrowing sharply at the apprentice beneath her. "Recklessly using the forbidden tactic on another as young as you, you've breached The Warrior Code, killing an innocent that has done nothing to you."

Hollyleaf is horrified Beaverpaw's gone and is now attempting to protect Pinepaw.

---

Duskflight slowly nodded. Brick? What does that mean?  He assumed it was just another rouge name, and gladly, not too complicated to remember. Just as he thought things would've been less complicated, questions only arose more as Emberleap mentioned the leading cat— the bleeding, pale-colored one (though maybe not so pale with all the muck) in front of all the other. "The leading cat, their name is Dawnhawk?" Duskflight frowned as his mentor seemed.. unstable. Ever since apprenticehood, he'd never seen his mentor so nearly.. startled and frustrated before. Was there even more to what he knew now?

His trust for Tawnyflare only decreased as the she-cat continued, saying things he couldn't quite understand. Asylum? Dawnhawk's.. kit?!  "Emberleap, I'm so confused. Who's.. what's Asylum? Or Shira?"

Duskflight is very confused, and is talking to Tawnyflare/Raisha, Emberleap, and Harebounce/Brick!

---

Vixentooth purred, her amusement only extending further as the young cat quivered in fear. She was right. As tough as the young tom attempted to make himself be, he was still young— and inexperienced, at that. She took a step forward, grinning, intently unsheathing her claws. Though, the disturbances of the other younger cats caused her to be irritated. Vixentooth growled, tail lashing.

Of course, the dark-colored molly accompanying them just had to be their mother. She snarled, baring her teeth as she glared at them— especially one in particular. With a roar, she rose, lunging herself at one of the more fearful apprentices, the chimera one. Claws held the young cat down, pinning him to the ground as she smirked. "Maybe not as brave as you hoped, huh? Oh, this is gonna be so exciting.." The feeling of being involved in battles once again overcame her, and she gave a low purr with delight. How I've missed this feeling.

Vixentooth is pinning Darkpaw down!

"Ah, you have a new name! It suits you. I have a new one too, they call me Harebounce now!" She gave him a soft smile. Still, his Clanmate Duskflight still looked a little confused. How did he not know about the Asylum? "P-Emberleap and I grew up together! It's a long story though. I think it's a little too loud right now." As much as she wanted to catch up and share tongues with her old friend, the energy was reaching a fever pitch.

Cats were yowling, some of them were see-through, and some smelled like they'd spent a moon inside the carcass of a rotting fox. Speaking of foxes... In all honesty, Harebounce was still processing everything that was going on. She stared, dumbfounded, as Raisha approached. Her sister, she- what happened to her? They hadn't seen each other in moons either, so why? Why was she... "Dead?" Too much blood came from her sister's stomach, enough to make her own belly cringe. Part of her wondered how she was able to keep her fox pelt in death, as if it was part of her physical body, which partially relieved some distant part of her mind that she herself would not have to bear StarClan bare naked. So bewildered was she that she could only watch as the dead she-cat began to taunt Pyrik, even going so far as to claim that she killed one of his clanmates. As much as Harebounce wanted to think it was just a show of bravado with no substance, her sister had killed once before. As much as she loved her still, this made her sick. And sad.

She moved in to stand between them, facing Raisha with what wasn't anger in her eyes, but perhaps grief. Or disappointment. She shifted so that her living friend was as hidden from view as possible. As if she could make her sister forget about him so long as she couldn't see him. The tortoiseshell opened her mouth to say something, yet all that came out was a jumbled-up mess of sound, like she'd tried to say every word at once. Let's try that again. "Hold- Stop! Raisha, why are you with them? Why- How- What... huh?"

---

He did not come in with any pomp of unearned confidence, nor with the fervor of those plagued by madness. Sparrowtail came in calmly, quietly. Unnoticeably. A sort of unintentional skill he'd had while he was alive, the power to erase his very presence was now perfected to the degree that, if there was prey in the Dark Forest, he felt as if he could nab some right from under some fellow beast's nose. He kept to the edge of the clearing - minding the blubbering, gurgling mounds of mud Morningstar had brought with them as backup - and came out from behind the Great Rock, brushing against it as one would a lover. He passed up the easy targets, those cowering apprentices hiding behind their equally terrified "deputies", and came behind those herb-soaked pelts of the medicine cats.

He padded behind ThunderClan's large white tom and put his muzzle just beside Dovefrost's ear. "How's it feel, Snowball? Could you feel them go?" Sparrowtail reeled back to get a good look at the tom's face and let out a cackling laugh that quickly ended in a fit of bloody coughs, even getting some splatters on the other's pristine pelt. Nice. "Could you ever feel those bastards at all? As if they cared enough to tell you anything other than what they needed you to know. They never even made a peep to you about all this, did they? Pitiful." His grin betrayed his true feelings on the matter. It was simply all too fun to play with medicine cats, those fools strung along by StarClan.