Post by ♫.Starredmyst on Feb 16, 2008 23:02:50 GMT -5
Ren has a fanfic YAY
Why is this heyurrrr
So, over the past, umm, day or so I've had random thoughts about WxNSD and Warriors in general running around my head. Firstly, it was, "Hayyy, Darksong wrote a fanfic about, like, Clans," which was a surprise for some reason, as if I'd expected it to be about flying ducks or something before I read it. o.O The second was, "I like to roleplay with myself wayyyy too much," and the third "I have a LOT of characters."
Welll, I think you can see where this is going...
This is the first time I've ever attempted a fanfic version Warriors, so lemme know what you think. I might be posting more, depends on how long the whim to write this thing lasts...we'll see. -yawns-
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Quick thing on the Clans
Kay, so there's basically a story behind how the Clans in this got worked out. I wanted to see how many of my charas I could list and there were enough for not one but four Clans, so I thought, "What the heck I'll put 'em into Clans." And then I needed names and decided to dedicate them to some sites n stuff. <3
CavernClan -- this was the firstesterstesterstestever Warriors roleplay I started. It was on Neo originally, actually, and lasted -- umm -- I wanna say a good year, maybe two, before we all started to drift off. Doesn't sound like much, but considering it was about seven of us altogether and all of the members pretty much wandered on at random and decided to join, I was pretty impressed at the time. Ev'nstorm and about 90% of the characters were actually somewhat as they are in the story when I rp'ed them.
YellowRockClan -- this is for Three Clans/Torn in Two/whatever the heck we're calling the place today. It's actually a more recent (kind of) site me n some rp friends started ages ago, which started super good, limped and died, was brought back to life, and is dead again. But it's awesome fun while it lasts and the idea of YRC (when we happen to be rp'ing with it or whatever) is almost as old as CavernClan -- when I first started roleplaying Eveningstorm it was the Clan he was born in.
IceClan -- this is for Alley Secrets, a dead forum I had going for a while that was a really good idea with no motivation to back it up. I was going to call it SecretClan, but the name didn't fit, so I fell back to a name mentioned in one of my cats' profiles. IceClan was actually a sort of filler Clan for me whenever I needed a convenient name for a cat's past, it's hard to explain, but it suits well to house some of the random charas that never really made it into any particular rp.
ShoreClan -- this 'un's for you guys. <3
SO ANYWAY....ONTO THE ACTUAL STORY N STUFF
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Remnants and Remembrance
Prologue
The junkyard was dark and menacing, laden with scents of death, decay and despair. Dim lights glittered behind them, the friendly invitation of twolegger life and freedom; ahead it was too black for a cat’s eye to easily discern, filled with sharp-edged, warped objects and vague piles of muck. The inanimate yard seemed almost to move if you dared look at something from the corner of your eye, and it was incredibly hard not to slink and sneak, glancing up and around as though something would come out of the sky to kill you.
The young tom was a beacon in this dank corner of civilization; his white pelt gleamed in the darkness, and he was all too conscious of how horribly, obviously vulnerable he was. That he had a companion by his side was no comfort — he had met this strange queen on his way to the yard, and had chosen to walk with her for mutual protection, nothing more. Ancestors knew, she was scarred and cruel-eyed, easily the type to turn and kill him as soon as their mission was accomplished.
He shivered at the thought, but there was no time to allow weakness. The older cat had padded on, confident, even mocking in her attitude; he followed her quickly, trying not to shrink away as the rough wire of the gate brushed against his skin. They were on foreign land now — any moment they could be challenged, even killed…
And there it was. A shadow appeared in front of them; nothing like the lone cats the white tom had seen in the past, he was cool and disciplined where another might have sneered or been mocking. Certainly, from her attitude thus far, the she-cat would have done so in his place. Rather than sneak and slide, now meeting his gaze and now not, the dark tom met the white one’s gaze firmly and said, simply, “State your name and business, trespassers.”
“My name is Chaora,” the she-cat said boldly, staring right back at the sentry when he turned to her, “and I have information for your leader. I wish to aid his cause.”
The dark tom gave her an appraising glance, then nodded. “And you, little cat?”
The night closed in around the two of them and the white tom knew this was the trial of — the trial for — his life. There was an instant, a bare instant, where he could turn and flee; a second, a fraction longer, when he could have stammered apologies or mumbled his words and been forced out. A shell-shaped locket clinked quietly around his neck, cool against his throat, as he lifted his head assertively.
“My name is Ghost, and I’m here to help kill the four Clans.”
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Chapter 1
“…you shall now be known as Nightpaw, Legendpaw and Hiddenpaw. Ashstream, you are ready for your first apprentice; you will mentor Nightpaw. Starlingstorm, you have served CavernClan well and have not had an apprentice since Blackhawk received her warrior name — you will be Legendpaw’s mentor. And Autumnhex, as a senior warrior and due another apprentice, you will watch over the training of Hiddenpaw.”
It was one of those magical moments that never fail to delight, even though they happen several times a moon. The three apprentices on Highrock were trembling with excitement, glancing at one another out of the corners of their eyes and trying their honest best to look adult and in control. Their new mentors were grave and smiling as they walked up to touch the younger cats’ noses, eager themselves to prove their adultness by being calmer than the little ones and proud of the honor thus given them. The dark-furred leader watched them with uplifted head and sparkling eyes, and as the mentors drew away once more, the Clan below burst into cheers.
“Nightpaw! Legendpaw! Hiddenpaw!”
The three young cats were purring with delight and whispering in each others’ ears as they stood over their Clanmates; Legendpaw leaned closer to Hiddenpaw with a wicked smile and said something particularly juicy, and Nightpaw let out a shriek of laughter and pushed her sister off of Highrock. The Clan meeting dissolved into gales of laughter and indulgent shaking of heads, and, chuckling, Eveningstar leapt down from his ceremonial spot.
A grey tabby she-cat was watching from the shadows of the nursery, a quiet smile flickering across her muzzle: Hopedawn, Eveningstar’s daughter. Gingery Foxkit and her timid grey sister Finalkit were playing at their mother’s paws, chattering about their future ceremonies; Eveningstar started to go to them, but another tom approached the little family first. Blizzardfur*, purring, rubbed his white cheek against his mate’s and bent down to the level of his kits, speaking to them very seriously about what had just passed. With a small sigh and a shake of his head, Eveningstar held his peace and waited for his son-in-law to leave.
“Makes you feel old, doesn’t it?” The low, laughing voice made the black tom start and look back; Shatterheart*, his own mate, had snuck up on him from behind. The Siamese she-cat flicked her tail and moved up next to him, watching their kit with a sad sort of affection. “Our only daughter, all grown up with a mate and kits of her own…StarClan, but that’s a lot of moons we’ve put behind us now.”
“I know,” Eveningstar murmured in her ear, voice layered with a purr. His tail caught hers and he tilted his head, studying Hopedawn and her family. “I can remember when we were the same, the two of us, and we had four beautiful kits…” His voice caught, but he hurried on past the mention of those two gone to StarClan — “You were hardly more than an apprentice then, weren’t you?”
“And you all of two moons older,” Shatterheart retorted, laughing. “It was way back when, when CavernClan was hardly more than a handful of upstarts who thought they could get a dead Clan going for the first time in generations. Half the Clans considered us rogues and the other half were proud. And you — you met me and talked to me for one day, and out of nowhere you decided to abandon your birth Clan and help the cause! I’m sorry to say, Ev’nstar, that I’ve not got a clue how a mousebrain like you became leader.”
“Hey, hey!” the black tom protested, swatting at his mate’s ear. “I’m not that bad at it, am I? Three moons now, and not only have there been no problems, we’re the strongest Clan of the four.”
Shatterheart glanced at him, then away, suddenly serious. Her blue eyes studied the ground. “You haven’t been tested yet, Eveningstar. Don’t count your kits before they’re born. I have faith in you, but StarClan knows what could happen before your leadership ends.”
Her chocolate-dipped tail wriggled free of his before he could recover his wits to say something, and she flashed him an affectionate smile. “Oh, don’t mind me, and don’t mope over it. Do me a favor? Hope’s been cooped up in the nursery for far too long, and Swallowpelt and I were going to watch the kits for a while. Take her out hunting for a bit and remind her what it’s like to be a warrior.”
——
The greenleaf grass was cool and smooth beneath her paws, and the night breeze was a knife in her face, a welcome icy wind that brought with it the scents of all Clans. This forest was shared by all cats, divided loosely into four sections and full of wonderful prey for anycat — Clan cat — who desired it. It was shady and sheltering during the day, cool and mysterious at night. Treetops swayed far above them, the earth was rich beneath their paws, and every breath brought a rich bouquet of scents from all corners of the forest.
It was so beautiful. Oh, she had been stuck at home for far too long.
The grey she-cat pressed her stomach against the ground, taking it slowly — one careful step at a time. The mouse was nibbling on a seed a few feet away. Three, two, one, a leap —
And Hopedawn landed on a patch of empty dirt for the third time that night, the mouse fled long before she could sink her claws into its flesh.
The she-cat let out a disgusted sigh and sat back on her haunches, licking one paw. She was about to get up and try again when a familiar scent curled around from behind, alerting her to some new trickery.
Nocat had ever been frightened in this forest; had ever felt nervous or insecure. It was home in the truest sense of the word, plentiful enough to generally stave off border fights, and Hopedawn wondered with amusement if the shadow behind her ever properly realized that. Still, there he was, doing his best to sneak up on her; hiding a smile, she waited for the axe to fall.
The black tom leapt out at her with a fierce cry and found his face full of mud — Hopedawn had stepped aside neatly at the last moment, and, laughing, had given him the nudge he needed to fall a little farther forward and land in a puddle. “Nice try, Eveningstar,” she teased, shaking her head laughingly. “Just because I’m out of practice doesn’t mean a can’t smell a cat two tail-lengths away.”
CavernClan’s leader sputtered something around the mud on his face then gave up and sat down like his daughter, fastidiously licking a paw and wiping the muck off of his muzzle. “Still having trouble, dear heart?” he asked sympathetically as soon as he could speak without getting more dirt in his mouth. “I’d try and help, but…”
“No, I know,” Hopedawn interrupted wryly, flicking her tail. “Practice is all to get me back in shape. Ah, I feel bad about this; Finalkit and Foxkit are such sweethearts, but I haven’t night-hunted in forever…”
“Aye,” Eveningstar agreed, “me neither. I’ve been missing it.” He laughed at his daughter’s startled expression. “What, you think your old tom’s too old-fashioned to have a little fun? Eveningstar is, maybe, but believe me when I say Eveningstorm was even more trouble than that little she-kit of yours. I don’t think I ever told you about the time I—”
“Save the stories for the kittens, Da,” Hopedawn retorted, affectionately brushing her tail against her leader’s flank. “We should probably be getting home soon; Finn won’t sleep unless I tell her goodnight, and Fox uses it as an excuse to stay up. Let me give it one more try and we’ll head, hmm?”
Eveningstar looked rather disappointed, but conceded the point. “All right. One more try. Let me go fetch my prey.”
Hopedawn nodded, and opened her mouth to scent the air. There was a rabbit nearby — not so common in this part of the forest, and one of her favorite meals. Carefully, the she-cat crouched and began to stalk forward.
The killing pounce — the feel of a neck, no, a leg in her mouth — she bit down hard and the rabbit shrieked, hurt but not dead — she went to change her grip —
And the most heartrending screech she’d heart in her life echoed through the forest, coming not from the rabbit, but from the direction of camp.
Hopedawn froze, and the rabbit wriggled free — injured as it was it wouldn’t live long, but had found its freedom for a few more hours. The she-cat’s ears rose, slowly, and trained on camp.
It was being attacked.
The wind blew the sounds of battle to her ears; snarls and hisses, thuds and screeches. She stood stock still for a moment longer, then raced to find her father.
“Da — do you hear —”
Eveningstar had been alerted by the same sound and his daughter, and jumped when she ran to meet him. His prey had fallen back to the ground. “I do,” he said grimly, “and I don’t like the sound of it. Come on, Hope.”
Both cats set off at a run for camp. Hopedawn’s heart was in her mouth. She’d left her kits — her poor kits, in camp alone! — they would be terrified. Alone, without her. Mentally, she did a tally of cats who were out of camp — herself, Eveningstar — Raptorwing, Autumnhex, and his new apprentice on dusk patrol — Stormflower had mentioned something about fishing —
But those nearest and dearest to the she-cat were all in camp. In the battle. Her legs strained and she couldn’t catch her breath — Eveningstar had bounded ahead — she just wasn’t fast enough —
Then she shoved through the bracken that hid the opening in the camp wall, and wished she was much, much slower.
The attackers had gone; they had downright trampled the earth wall in their escape, and their trail smelled strongly of garlic. The camp was in ruins. Doorways into the caves that formed dens were collapsed; the bush which apprentices slept beneath had been crushed; StarClan, the cats had even done their best to tip Highrock on its side. But that wasn’t the worst of it.
The cats of the Clan, dead or wounded, lay scattered about the remains of camp. This wasn’t a normal battle — no, in a normal battle no group sought to hurt another. Injured cats weren’t fair targets. But here — cats had died —
Hopedawn swallowed bile as she saw the elder’s den; the body of old Owlclaw was half visible beneath the remains of the entrance, his neck slashed. No, this wasn’t a normal battle. She could feel Eveningstar standing beside her, motionless with shock.
There was motion nearby. Both cats jumped, but it was one of their own who padded up; Garnetfur, Eveningstar’s deputy. The deep red she-cat was limping and one ear bled, but she seemed comparatively unharmed.
“Eveningstar,” she said in a hoarse voice, “the nursery —”
Before she could get any farther Hopedawn had pushed past the both of them with a cry. Her kits — she dug frantically at the dirt covering the den entrance and pushed through — to the worst scene she’d met yet.
There lay Shatterheart, her mother. The wily she-cat had died defending her grandkits. Behind her, Hopedawn saw with growing horror, the two other queens Swallowpelt and Voleclaw had been killed and their kits savaged. She almost didn’t go in any farther.
“Momma!”
The shriek was all the queen needed to spring forward, eyes wide, searching into the dark depths of the den. There were little Foxkit and her sister, wriggling out from under something limp and motionless.
“Momma! Momma!” the ginger she-cat squealed. “Momma, these scary cats came and Daddy was here, and he told us to play dead and he stood over us and what’s going on Momma?”
Hopedawn’s breath caught and she ushered her kits over, away from the body they had been hiding beneath. “There — was an attack,” she said haltingly, licking her talkative daughter gently and trying to offer comfort she did not have. “Bad things would have happened if you didn’t play dead.”
“Oh.” Foxkit fell silent a moment, and her sister wriggled closer. Then, uncertainly, she asked, “Is Daddy playing dead now, Momma? He hasn’t got up yet.”
Slowly, unable to believe her eyes, Hopedawn stepped forward. Yes. It was Blizzardfur, and he’d died fighting like he’d always wanted. Not that he’d wanted to fight, but he’d never have given in to death. She swallowed and gently closed the unseeing blue eyes.
“Yes,” she said softly. “He’s got to play dead a little longer, kitling.”
A strangled cry came from the den entrance. Eveningstar had found Shatterheart’s body. Quickly, kits trailing at her heels, Hopedawn hurried over to the leader. The black tom’s shoulders were shaking and his amber eyes all but glowed with rage.
“I’ll kill them,” he snarled. “I’ll kill them for doing this. My Clan — my family — I’m going to find them now and kill them.”
Blindly, he spun and began to head for the trail the marauding cats had left behind them. Hopedawn let out a startled exclamation and took a step closer.
“Da, you can’t — they’ll just kill you — what are you doing —”
He turned on her and for that one instant there was nothing sane in his eyes. “What do you expect me to do?” he growled. “Leave them be — let our dead go unavenged —”
“We expect you,” came a cold voice a few tail-lengths away, “to behave like a leader, Eveningstar.” Garnetfur approached the desolate pair. “We’ve wounded to see to and repairs to begin,” she went on heartlessly, “and if you break down the Clan will fall into chaos. Save your grieving, old tom, you’re not the only cat who’s lost a loved one tonight. We need you to be strong.”
Eveningstar stared at her for a long moment, not understanding, then swallowed. Anger and sorrow still simmered in his eyes, but he got himself under control and nodded slowly.
“I understand,” he said, quietly, staring unseeing over the ruins of camp. “I will be strong.
“But soon, I swear to you, I will have my revenge.”
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Note
**Originally Ev'nstar and Hopedawn's mates were played by some of my friends. It really felt wrong for me to make up random mates for two of my oldest/most favorite characters, so I basically made new characters based off the cats they were with in the roleplay. Shatterheart is based on Brokendreams, who belonged to Kat on the site, and Blizzardfur on Icestorm, who was Rachel's.[/blockquote]
