The Sun will Turn Dark, and the Moon Will Turn into Blood

[mewmehh]

Long ears swiveled, perked and listening through all the broken cries which filled the air as Wisp barreled into another warrior. The bushy Ivyclan crumpled to the ground, black and ginger pelt quivering with a wheezy breath as Bushfire’s mouth opened and closed desperately for air. The massive white Home-Guard tilted her angled face away as she stepped onto the bobtailed cat’s throat, crushing her struggling breaths into a gurgle and then silence before pressing on. Such soft, pitiful creatures, Wisp thought the warriors to be. Soft like little mice. As she moved to swipe at an obnoxious white apprentice nipping at the heels of a fleeing Prey-Hunter, a storm of smoky fur cut Wisp of Icy Star’s Tail off from Beampaw.

Rearing back a step, Wisp locked her narrowed violet gaze onto the Ivyclan leader and snorted. No, this was her intended prey, after all. Owlstar’s roaring words buffeted the spotted she-cat, but Wisp met them with her own dogged conviction. ”How dare harm ours?! With wariness, but kindness! Such was how the strangers who invaded our home were treated!” The tall she-cat swung her head backwards, feeling as Owlstar’s long claws caught her nose and lips.

Blood trickled from her frayed muzzle and the she-cat snorted; the taste and scent of the clan cat’s blood was far different from that of her own she decided as her tongue swept across her torn features. With a trilling growl, Wisp rushed Owlstar in the hopes of unbalancing her as she plunged her bloody white muzzle close to the grey and black queen’s ear Fed and allowed to recover from their trip, only to kill our own in cold blood! There was no mercy! No kindness returned!!”

The speckled Home-Guard had moved to land a heavy blow on Owlstar when her attention was wrenched from the fight by the hulking form of a third cat inviting himself to their fray. A pin-prick gaze scanned Mothstar and Wisp had to admit that the wild, and disheveled-looking cat was quite intimidating despite his greyed muzzle. However, a big small cat is still a small cat. And small cats were crumpled like leaves beneath her strength. With a roaring yowl, Wisp flung herself sideways at Mothstar, the broad side of her flank hoping to act as a battering ram or wall of sorts to knock the older cat backwards while the rest of her attention was focused on the smoky she-cat ahead of her. It was one thing to fight two cats, but another to take on two of the cats that these small-ears so revered. Firstspeaker would certainly sing her praises upon their triumphant return this moon!!

Terrified cries warbled and died as a mass of tortoiseshell fur and thin bones crumpled to the ground in a wet pile. Large, stony-hued eyes were wide and glass like a frightened kit’s, but such did little to move the heart of the silvery lilac she-cat who loomed overhead. Orange eyes burned hot and blood like a dribbling river poured from between Saltweed’s teeth as she dropped the soft, pink flesh held within her jaws onto Spider’s limp form. Clicking her tongue in distaste, the Mistclan warrior turned away.

She had seen Stoatwhisker as the white warrior let the enemy flee and such irritated Saltweed. The white warrior was one of the very few cats the dappled she-cat held close, and she wouldn’t stand for such soft tomfoolery. Later, the pair of them would likely have words, but for now, Saltweed could only think about having to take down as many more cats as she could.

(Bushfire of Ivyclan and Spider Legs on Speckled Petals have died; Wisp has started battle with Mothstar and Owlstar. Nothing much more of interest featured in this post; may make another of my others cats after work so long as this thread is still up.)

[Fireflake]

Pebbleshade of MistClan

Pebbleshade tore his eyes away from Redpaw's face and turned to see another only marginally less terrifying face across the battlefield. Or more accurately, faces. Wormpaw had grown a bit since he had met her and was now attacking a tribe cat. His paws were once again rooted in place. Shivering at the sight of the attack, he wondered if he had been so wrong to throw out his tail in front of his apprentice when she and Hailstrike had come to the border with talk of a different war. Yes, he decided as he watched her fight tooth and claw for the clans, he had been.

Daisypetals' voice slammed him back into the present and gave him enough of a jolt to nod and look away. His eyes narrowed as he peered through the battle in search of cats not fighting. They were either the most dangerous, out on a hunt for an opponent, or the least dangerous, the injured. Either way he needed to be aware of them. Pebbleshade noticed a dark cat stumbling from the tangled mass of yowls. Dustfur. It took him a moment for the name to come to his tongue, but he had already been moving toward his clanmate. "Dustfur!" he called.

The tom's pawsteps were light by habit, stealth being completely obsolete in the situation, but less precise than usual. He didn't take long to come up beside the injured warrior. "Come over here. Come on, you'll be okay."
A cut that had gone unnoticed on his own pelt made him flinch when pressed against the wounded cat. Pebbleshade swallowed hard and carried on. It was just a scrape, nothing like the gashes buried in the blood-soaked fur of cats all around him. "Frostfall! Daisypetals!" He realized suddenly that he didn't know what the others were named. Hopefully they'd all recognize it as a call for a medicine cat.

Summary: Pebbleshade admits to himself that "Wormpaw"(Briardawn) is a good warrior, and that he shouldn't have judged her just because she looks different. He lets Dustfur lean against him and calls for the meddies to help him. Meow Cosima GnawingOnIce gingersnapsdacat Just whichever medicine cat helps first. LupTacco

[KingHarry]

The knock to his side sent Mothstar skidding across the ground. In that moment, he knew that he was against a stronger force. Even in his prime, he was not sure that he could have stood up to a cat like this - but StarClan, he knew he was going to try. Maybe he would die - forever this time, as (unknown to anybody else) he was aware that this was his final life - but if that happened, at least he went out fighting. That was how he had always wanted to die, after all. He was a warrior; proud and noble. To die in his sleep, curled up in a safe den, was not the legacy that he wanted.

And, if he did die, a least he could possibly stop Owlstar from meeting the same fate. He could see that his fellow leader was injured and this moment of weakness was prime time for this beast to claw her down. If he could save her from losing even one life, then that was one life she could use to continue leading her clan. Owlstar, she was a good leader. Mothstar had never said it aloud, but he admired her. She was strong, though in a completely different way to him. His strength was physical. Hers? It was... Well, he was not sure how to describe it. Etheral, perhaps?

The old cat pushed himself back to his feet. He was tired - tired of fighting, tired of life. This was sure to be his last stand, but that was okay. Mothstar was at peace with his future. Brackenfall would be a good leader, and if he wasn't? Well, Mothstar supposed he could always haunt him from StarClan.

With a loud yowl, the warrior threw himself at his enemy - old bones straining to leap and reach her back and claws outstretched before him. His claws hit their target - he could feel them slice through short fur and flesh alike - and, from that moment on, the world seemed to be a blur. Mothstar did not know how long they fought for. He landed blows, as did she. Both were injured, both were tired. Breathing heavily, he seemed to not only be able to hear the sounds of fighting around him, but also his own, rapid heartbeat. In the background, the cry of a dying warrior could be heard. Mothstar's mind idly connecting the voice to Tigertooth, a MistClan warrior that he had known when he lived with his previous clan.

In the end, it was that minor distraction that was enough to fell him. The other cat used the split second loss of focus to knock him over once more and, this time, Mothstar found himself without the energy to respond. Still alive for the moment, he was flung back to the ground - dirt and dust mixing with the thick coating of blood and sweat in his fur. He was exhausted, but, for some reason, he found himself laughing - his chuckle small and hoarse. Why was he doing that? Mothstar didn't know. It was a way of facing the terror of the unknown, he supposed.

What was StarClan going to be like? 

Would he find peace there?

As his eyes fell over Owlstar - noting with satisfaction that at least she was no longer under attack - Mothstar decided that it was all fine. MothClan would be fine. He had created something good with his life, and, though he had regrets, he felt that, on balance, he had very little to be ashamed about. The life of Mothstar - Mothmaw, the cat that had bravely (stupidly?) decided to start his own clan - had been a good one.

And then the pain was gone.

For the first time in moons and moons, Mothstar felt no aches or groans. The feeling of youth was enough to tell him that it was over. Death, it seemed, was... Well, in a way, it was nice. To feel as he did in his prime, it was freeing. Perhaps he had grown too old if he was at the point that he was thinking such a thing - not that it mattered now, mind you.

He didn't linger. There was no point. Mothstar could not change the outcome of anything now, and he did not wish to see those he cared for mourn. Silently, acting on instinct, the starry warrior 's spirit - looking one more as he had during the peak of his life - made his way to StarClan.

It was fine. Everything would be fine.

[Miss Tactical]

Stormwatcher felt claws strike her face, a low growl formed in her throat, however out of the corner of her eyes she spotted something. She whipped around quickly and started to run. She knew her father was slim on lives. Her tail lashed back and forth, a deep mist starting to settle. One by one tribe cats ran off, eventually all that was left were the four clans. They were gone. She panted, running to her fathers laying body, and put a paw briefly on his cheek. He was cold...she knew he was gone. Her green eyes narrowed as she let out a loud war cry, her eyes falling on Brackenfall. "He's cold...he's gone." she murmured. She pressed her nose into his coat, and the one thing she had kept as a secret for long finally coming to light.

She had seen him die once in his den, but he always remained warm. His spirit would come back from StarClan, with each life he lost he probably got a warning, but her father was stubborn, it was something that she inherited from him. She smiled slightly nosing his long fur taking in his scent once more. She was an orphan now. She and her sister. Both parents were gone. She knew that Mothstar didn't love her mother, it was a professional relationship but they would be running the fields together, and hopefully one day she would make him proud. "Rest well dad, your memory will always live on. I promise."

Around her the other MothClan cats began to gather, some from MistClan as well. She looked at Eveningblaze and Wolfdusk with a crooked smile, but it was her sister she was most worried about. Despite having known this would be his last battle, she still felt a piece of heart was ripped out of her chest. She felt no pain despite having fought for what seemed liked hours. With the tribe cats gone she could finally make out the horrible scene. Bodies everywhere,did they greet her father on the way to StarClan? She he was a bit rough around the edges, but one couldn't help but admire him and for that she smiled.

Stormwatcher looked to the sky and watch the redness around the moon fade, and the first rays of dawn touching the sky. They did it...but at such a cost. She looked at the other MothClan cats as they seemed to be waiting for him to return, and to bark orders at them for just standing around, but that wouldn't happen. She sighed softly padding towards brackenfall her head held high. "Bracken...Brackenstar he was on his last ilfe...it's going to be your job to pull us through...and I pray to Starclan you can." With that Stormwatcher stepped to the side, knowing others would want to say their goodbies to her father...creator and leader of MothClan.

TLDR:Tribe is gone, Moon is normal, Stormwatcher said her piece about her dad letting others take vigil.

[M'Lady]

A slash of silver claws and the metallic scent of blood clouded her senses, and Owlstar had stumbled backwards away from the beast. Her face burned, ear torn and so was her muzzle, but her eyes remained bright and clear as she watched the Mothclan leader throw himself at the tribe warrior in her own moment of weakness. She cried out, attempting a lunge forward but found that her paws wouldn't move. Was it the exhaustion that ate her from the inside out? Was it fear that flickered in her heart? She didn't know what it was, but it didn't matter. The battle was over as quickly as it came, and next thing she knew was that the tribe cats were gone and Mothstar was motionless.

It wasn't until after Stormwatcher stepped away from her father, that the smoky furred Ivyclan leader found it within herself to move forward. Warriors unknown to her moved out of her path as she made her way to the Mothclan tom... The idiot that decided to go off and start a clan all on his own, and succeeded without any of their blessings.

Blood streaked down her fur, dying silvery strands red as she finally stopped before him, sat down, and then, Owlstar bowed her head.

"You... You stupid tomcat.." She whispered, her voice hardly audible to even those standing closest to her. "You knew you had one left, you should've let her take me instead." Tears dripped slowly from her eyes, mingling with the scarlet trails that already ran down her muzzle. Yellow eyes squeezed shut, and she clenched her jaw to muffle a cry that threatened to tear from her throat. She ducked her head down, brushing her ebony furred tail over his already cooling pelt.

"..."

She was silent for a moment, before lifting her gaze to look across the clearing, yellow eyes burning into Brackenfall, who would soon be named leader of the clan that his predecessor created all on his own, with nothing but nine lives and his own claws.

"I will not forget this, Mothclan will not falter now that you're gone. Your young leader will not falter, either." These words were again merely a murmur, a promise. She gave the passed tom one last look, this one rather fond as she leaned down, and touched his ear lightly with her nose. "Thank you, Mothmaw. I will see you soon."

And then she strode away, holding her head high as blood dripped with every step she took, and called her clan home.

[mewmehh]

The heated rush of battle settled to a chill as letting blood robbed many a tired body of its well needed warmth. Yet. despite the tempered cool, a shiver of excitement sang of victory within the bodies of those still standing. Heaving. Panting. Weary eyes watched as one by one the long strangers made their way off back the way they had come, leaving a smelly track of blood, fur, and regret in their fleeting steps, and one by one, singular cries of victory rang out into a single melody of dusty, dry voices. Of these, a dirtied pale body stiffened in her yowls, her bellowing trickling off into a weak croak.

Milkyberry's eyes blinked blearily as her body heaved, head head swinging to and fro in exhaustion as she took in the scene. Cats staggered all around, helping to move the injured and fallen alike, and among all the scattered motions, a defeat caterwaul tugged at her attention. It was Stormwatcher, the young warrior appearing crestfallen as she lingered over a slumped corpse of matted, wild fur; a visage both so familiar and so foreign to the milky warrior.

Racing steps slowed to a reluctant trudge as Milkberry arrived alongside clanmates to their fallen leader's side, and as Mothstar's features graced her gaze, dim blue eyes glazed over in tears. The creamy gray she-cat was correct; Mothclan's leader was dead. Milkberry's mentor and only true guide within her warrior life was dead.

Her heart sunk deep within her belly as she was one of the first to crumple beside Mothstar's body. She pressed her nose so deeply within his matted, dusty fur in an effort to grasp any whiff of the same proud scent the tom wafted as he strode around camp, so strong and vallant as he had when she was but a mere kit. With such a proud image in her head, it was hard to believe that he was actually gone. Walking alongside clanmates they had once known. Cats like Fattail. Tears feel even harder at the thought of the black and white warrior whom she cherished so much in her youth. How unfair!! her thoughts snapped in an angry nostalgia. It wasn't fair- how could the universe, how could Starclan rob her of the cats who meant so much to her?! Did they really bear such I'll will towards Mothclan? Towards herself?!

Bitter, angry tears were wept as she buried her face into the massive tom's side like a distressed kit, his pelt sodden and cold. Her bruised body curled up into a tight ball and her form wracked with ugly cries, Milkberry remained until her wails withered and trembling body settled into a silent vigil.

[ladyspectral]

She didn't know what to think, as rage threatened to cloud her mind. Mothstar was dead, the cat that she had wasted her kithood trying to impress was gone. And she had still never proven herself, never shown herself to be better than what he had expected. No, she was always the weak, emaciated kitten that stumbled into camp covered in mud.

Briardawn stayed near the back, wounds and blood covering her body as she watched the cats grieve. She wanted to cry, to laugh. Praise Starclan for taking the cat that had ignited years of pain into a blaze that couldn't be quelled. But she remained silent, watching Stormwatcher and Hailstrike for a long while. She missed them, the days she had spent at their sides. But those days had ended, taken by the cat that now lay dead in the dirt. He wouldn't rise this time, but she always did. That thought brought on an almost smug feeling in her. She had survived, and now she was thriving.

When Owlstar called for her clan to depart, she slowly limped after them.

[GnawingOnIce]

Coyote and Dogear were still at each other when the chaos around them seemed to evaporate. Coyote had been on his paws and landing blows at Dogear from all sides when he sensed that the battle was over. He took a final hiss at his opponent before retreating into the trees.

Dogear just stood there at first, his chest heaving up and down in an attempt to catch his breath. Blood had stained his short fur, making it stick together in clumps. The blood wasn’t all his.

His took in a long sigh of air before observing his surroundings. No wonder it was over, the moon had changed back to it’s original color. A quick look at the battlefield told him that there had been many deaths on both sides, and many more severely injured, including himself.

His injuries could be worse. There were claw marks on both his sides that crossed each other in places and on his face, the metallic taste filling his mouth.

He took a glance at his family, who were trembling no longer now that it was over.

However, once Toffee saw his blood stained self, her pupils turned to slits and she had to look away. Honey and Robin guided her away from the clearing.

As his vision blurred at the edges, Dogear realized he was exhausted. His legs shook and gave in from under him, the tom collapsing to the ground. He managed to keep his head up even though it and his eyelids were heavy.

Timberheart and Maplespring both retreated after Owlstar, both of them with minimal wounds.

Ashleaf and Meteorfall also made it out okay, but Cloverwing’s ear would likely heal awkwardly.

It’s over. Cedarleap thought to herself. But not without a price. A great leader and many other cats had died tonight.

After she had tended to the cats with the most major wounds, Cedarleap was surprised to find herself standing beside Mothstar’s body with tears pricking at her amber eyes. She blinked them away hastily and looked to Brackenfall, now Brackenstar.

“We should get back to camp, Brackenstar.” Her calm voice inquired. The quiet of the field was ominous now that the fighting had halted. She began to think about all the wounds she and Jaggedtooth had to heal and Brackenstar’s nine lives ceremony before stopping herself. All that would be worried about later.

[sabs]

BRACKENFALL- - >

    In the thick of the battle, the sound of Mothstar's battle cries rang in his ears. He tore himself from his opponent long enough to witness it, the final battle of the great creator of MothClan. It was like a dream really, or I guess you could call this a nightmare. Yes, that was more fitting. When the old tom was on his back, Brackenfall moved to save him. It was like he was trying to tread water, however, it was all going in slow motion. Until it wasn't. Until the limp body of Mothstar lay before him, and the tribe cats vanished. A cold, numb feeling seeped through every fiber of his being. Numbness. Then pure, fiery anger. The tom shot up from beside his fallen leader and paced back and forth in a rage. "I'll kill them, I'll kill them all. Those foxhearts." He growled, turning to go towards where the last lanky tribe cat had left.

    A thick tail strewn across his shoulders and he felt the familiar scent of Screechcall as she pressed against him, blocking his path. "Our Clan needs you now, don't be a mousebrain." She said under her breath so only the two of them could hear. She motioned towards the remains of MothClan. Cats were looking to him now. Some with fear, some sadness, others, the same anger that the tabby tom was feeling. No, he wouldn't disappoint them. He had to be strong now. For his Clan. He padded back towards Mothstar, pressing his nose gently into his fur. "I'll keep MothClan safe. I'll see you soon, old friend." He murmured, shutting his eyes tightly. After a few moments he lifted his head. IvyClan had already left. The words from his Clanmates barely reached his ears. Brackenstar? No, he hadn't yet earned that title. It would be a long night before he had, too. But there was one thing he still had to do before he made that journey.

    He looked up towards the top of the gleaming monsters. No, he would do this here, surrounded by his Clanmates, beside Mothstar. Everyone was already gathered closely, so Brackenfall cleared his throat to signal silence, not that anyone was talking, anyway. The air clung with the cats sadness, filled with the smell of blood. He gave one last heavy sigh. The choice for him was easy, honestly. This cat had stuck up for him many a time, and was always the first to help when Brackenfall became overwhelmed with all the extra duties when Mothstar began to become very ill. Yes, he knew he was making the right choice. He looked around his clanmates, then spoke. "I say these words before StarClan, so that the spirits of our warrior ancestors may hear and approve of my choice." He paused for a moment, locking eyes with the scarred black tom. "The new deputy of MothClan is Eveningblaze."



    

[Intrique]

Littlepaw had stopped when she saw Mothstar take his last breathe.
Though she wasn't in his clan, she could feel the heat of battle crash down and turned into sadness. Though she hadn't really known the old tom very well, she could tell that he had been a good leader in his time.
She dipped her head in respect for the fallen leader, before daring to raise her head again to look around. The blood moon was still up high, but now directly over them at its highest peak it seemed. Was it moonhigh? Perhaps it was. She wasn't sure.
But as the white she-cat with the blue and yellow eyes stared at the fallen elderly leader, she somehow knew he was in a place without pain and loosing lives. He wouldn't have to protect his clan or deal with the stress of leading it anymore.
Still, she felt sorry and sympathetic to the loved ones he left behind. She could feel sadness through the cats around her, smothering her in a thick blanket of it.
The scent of blood, sweat, sadness, anger, and even death coated her senses. She looked at the moon again, and it reminded her of a deep red rose. But, not just any rose. A rose of death, destruction, and doom. It had brought a bloody battle to the clans and had made them loose many, and many had been injured to pure crippled.

She wasn't sure what to do now.