Post by Exalok on Jan 26, 2007 14:32:03 GMT -5
Long, long ago, when the stars twinkled brighter and the dew lay heavy on every blade of grass, there were four Clans living in the lands of the forest.
ThunderClan, WindClan, RiverClan and ShadowClan were their names.
And they lived together in relative harmony, holding a truce every full moon, ancient ways and traditions keeping them mostly in check. They were surrounded with plenty, the prey leaping out of the brush, the plants growing tall and ageing gradually.
Nothing seemed able to bother them.
Nothing at all.
...
And then the storms came.
It was a cold and dreary winter, where the cruel northern winds screeched through the branches of leafless trees and the moon glowed pale white. The snow was coming down in swarms of ivory-hued fog, driving any cat unwary enough to venture out into the frosted world farther and farther into the deceitful envelope of its frozen arms. It covered the land like a soft blanket, blindingly white under the light of a weakened sun, but death came unto the one who dared stalk across its fathomless beauty. The Clans were in hard times, and many died, their graves simple holes in the snow while the ground was too hard to dig in.
And yet that was not the end to their misery.
A thunderstorm began gathering, dark gray clouds of sorrow crowding over the lands of these warrior Clans. Threatening rumbles could be heard echoing through the night as the fire-bringers assembled. But rain did not fall, and the clouds did not break to unleash their heavy burden on the heads of the cats below. They started hoping that StarClan would save them, that the clouds would leave, that they would survive this terrible fate.
All in vain.
As suddenly as the thunderstorm had been announced, the rain began beating down, hammering against the homes of the hunting cats. Thunder growled like an enraged creature trapped high in the heavens, and the lands were flooded in mud and plant debris as cadavres floated by. The lightning did not come until an entire moon later, when the storm had only begun abating.
But when it struck, it struck hard.
The white-hot fork of charged phenomenon hit the stones of Mothermouth, the great entrance to the Moonstone, from which the Clans could consult with their deity of old - StarClan. The rocks, unused to this sudden change from freezing winds to searing heat, lliterally exploded, and the Mothermouth was complety covered in huge boulders and stones. The entry was blocked.
And the cats panicked.
StarClan was not speaking. No dreams were coming. And the Moonstone was out of their desperate reach.
They had truly been abandoned.
And so the cats, sure that there would be no help from the ones they had so adored before, decided to gather together and become one.
ThunderClan, WindClan and the rest melded...
... and became OneClan, the ultimate one. Stronger than strong, as safe as stones.
But were stones so safe any longer?
OneClan settled inside the forest, the most plentiful of the lands, and soon got going again, completely changing the rules they had once held up so proudly.
But the peace would not last; it never seemed to, these days.
A rebellion soon grew inside the heart of OneClan, opposing the fact that so many believed - StarClan had left them to their fate. OneClan split apart, dividing into many groups, and they all scattered across the land, claiming their territory as fast as they could.
One, then two, then three groups died off, and many more followed. Winter was stretching farther than usual, going on and on, and only the strongest got by.
In the end, five were left.
They expanded the small portion of territory they had claimed as the other groups disappeared, and became the only rulers of a desolate land, a few rogues and loners spread across the area. And they started living that way, free of rules and restrictions. Of course, after a while, they managed to create a loose hierarchy - but the strongest and smartest was above the rest, and it would stay that way.
And so they went on like this, growing larger and better as time went on.
But recently, a change has overcome the lands. Rogues are coming together, loners joining them. Rumours are spreading. Rumours of a prophecy, sent by StarClan, who long ago disappeared from the minds of many cats.
There are some who want the old ways back.
Some whose voices whisper in the trees.
"The old ways will be brought back... and the night sky will return."
And nothing will stop them.
ThunderClan, WindClan, RiverClan and ShadowClan were their names.
And they lived together in relative harmony, holding a truce every full moon, ancient ways and traditions keeping them mostly in check. They were surrounded with plenty, the prey leaping out of the brush, the plants growing tall and ageing gradually.
Nothing seemed able to bother them.
Nothing at all.
...
And then the storms came.
It was a cold and dreary winter, where the cruel northern winds screeched through the branches of leafless trees and the moon glowed pale white. The snow was coming down in swarms of ivory-hued fog, driving any cat unwary enough to venture out into the frosted world farther and farther into the deceitful envelope of its frozen arms. It covered the land like a soft blanket, blindingly white under the light of a weakened sun, but death came unto the one who dared stalk across its fathomless beauty. The Clans were in hard times, and many died, their graves simple holes in the snow while the ground was too hard to dig in.
And yet that was not the end to their misery.
A thunderstorm began gathering, dark gray clouds of sorrow crowding over the lands of these warrior Clans. Threatening rumbles could be heard echoing through the night as the fire-bringers assembled. But rain did not fall, and the clouds did not break to unleash their heavy burden on the heads of the cats below. They started hoping that StarClan would save them, that the clouds would leave, that they would survive this terrible fate.
All in vain.
As suddenly as the thunderstorm had been announced, the rain began beating down, hammering against the homes of the hunting cats. Thunder growled like an enraged creature trapped high in the heavens, and the lands were flooded in mud and plant debris as cadavres floated by. The lightning did not come until an entire moon later, when the storm had only begun abating.
But when it struck, it struck hard.
The white-hot fork of charged phenomenon hit the stones of Mothermouth, the great entrance to the Moonstone, from which the Clans could consult with their deity of old - StarClan. The rocks, unused to this sudden change from freezing winds to searing heat, lliterally exploded, and the Mothermouth was complety covered in huge boulders and stones. The entry was blocked.
And the cats panicked.
StarClan was not speaking. No dreams were coming. And the Moonstone was out of their desperate reach.
They had truly been abandoned.
And so the cats, sure that there would be no help from the ones they had so adored before, decided to gather together and become one.
ThunderClan, WindClan and the rest melded...
... and became OneClan, the ultimate one. Stronger than strong, as safe as stones.
But were stones so safe any longer?
OneClan settled inside the forest, the most plentiful of the lands, and soon got going again, completely changing the rules they had once held up so proudly.
But the peace would not last; it never seemed to, these days.
A rebellion soon grew inside the heart of OneClan, opposing the fact that so many believed - StarClan had left them to their fate. OneClan split apart, dividing into many groups, and they all scattered across the land, claiming their territory as fast as they could.
One, then two, then three groups died off, and many more followed. Winter was stretching farther than usual, going on and on, and only the strongest got by.
In the end, five were left.
They expanded the small portion of territory they had claimed as the other groups disappeared, and became the only rulers of a desolate land, a few rogues and loners spread across the area. And they started living that way, free of rules and restrictions. Of course, after a while, they managed to create a loose hierarchy - but the strongest and smartest was above the rest, and it would stay that way.
And so they went on like this, growing larger and better as time went on.
But recently, a change has overcome the lands. Rogues are coming together, loners joining them. Rumours are spreading. Rumours of a prophecy, sent by StarClan, who long ago disappeared from the minds of many cats.
There are some who want the old ways back.
Some whose voices whisper in the trees.
"The old ways will be brought back... and the night sky will return."
And nothing will stop them.