Dream of the Heir - pt. 1

[Runfast]

Sinface awoke with a yowl and a sneeze. "Where am I!?!?" He looked around frantically, the whole world foggy and grey, made of ash and stone. There was the sound of something sharp scraping over stone, drawing nearer.
"Face me - so I may know your pelt before I take your teeth!" Yes, he was frightened, fur bristling and his claws (no reinforced claws!) unsheathed.
Ugh, he felt naked with only his normal claws.
There was the sound of a hundred voices crying out in the distance - little did he know that it was the calls of anguish from the Clans Mudblood was attacking - and yowled, "WHERE ARE YOU!?!?!" A land of no smell, no taste, barely any visual or things to hear?
This was madness.

OOC: Nope, just the view of one in the Realm of the Dead who is not gifted and is still alive.

[Loki]

Switchblade had gone through this routine ounce and waited for the Powerfuls to follow him on in.

OOC: shrugs, its nothing special

[Guest]

Despairingcall was near his son, but he wasn't.
Where is the Heir?
This was different - to the Powerfuls, the world of those that had passed was bright and vivid, but even to them this world was somewhat blurred,
"This is the veil," he mewed aloud -the Heir would not be able to hear him.

[Meany]

The whipping wind suddenly shifted and snagged at the Heir's fur, almost dragging him in one direction. Since he was practically forced to look towards a pile of shadows. Little did he know, he was atop the Abyssclannian hill in the shadowed realm of the world, where ghosts have been said to roam.
A smaller shadow was atop the mound - but suddenly it was all up in his face.
Shadowstar.
"Take my life," he leaned up to touch noses with his eldest son, "for it is great." The Heir felt a strong, heart-stopping jolt that would have made him shriek in pain but he was frozen to the spot. Though hios father did not open his mouth, the Heir heard, Through your hardships by your kin you have been broken. Through blood you will be made. The shadowed realm faded away, the strong winds suddenly ceasing and the air becoming still, dry, and stale - Shadowstar was gone, permanently it felt, but the memories of everything he had told the Heir of the Forgotten Kingdom remained fresh.


OOC: Technically, we're in the Forgotten Kingdom now - let's just make it easy and do it here. *shifty look*

[Longstorm]

This clearing was easier to see, but it was still scentless, still tasteless, nearly without sound (the calls of the real world had faded to the soft murmurs of the dead).
There were great trees surrounding the clearing, a thousand pairs of eyes dotting the darkened masses of leaves if you could see that far up. To the Heir, however, it looked like the stars were peeking through the leaves.
From the darkness of the ground, a small black tom emerged. He wore a collar the color of foxgloves and it was studded with many large, jagged teeth imbedded in the entirety of it. On his paws (one of which was stark white), attached to them were even more dog's teeth - but these were larger and they looked more ferocious than what would come from an average sized dog-jaw.
"Heir," he whispered and the cats in the trees sighed, all shifting slightly, creating the illusion of the wind blowing through the trees.
The hard part was over, was the thought in everyone's mind, even if they weren't sure where the though originated from.
Scourge circled his kin, tail twitching.
"As King you shall live above all before you - you shall roam the earth empowered by nine lives - as your forever-King I choose where your lives shall come from." The world stood still, all holding their breath. He went face-to-face with the heir and hissed, "From any who break the laws of Abyssclan will your new lives come - by blood you were broken," he stepped back and looked as grave and cunning as ever, amazing in his splendor. "And by the traitor's blood will you be made."
"By their blood will you be made," every cat present snarled joyously, the guttural words echoing where no echo was possible.
Scourge moved suddenly and it was silent. "Bring forth the prisoner."

A harsh-looking she-cat and a small, gray tom suddenly appeared, a small white she-cat between them. As one they shoved her to the center of the clearing, the wounds that killed her in life becoming fresh as she drew nearer to the King.
"Tawnyclan," the hateful growls of The Above followed the spat words of Scourge, "When you knowingly broke our law, your spirit became forfeit. Your spirit became ours." He turned back to the Heir and gestured for him to step forward.

[Runfast]

The Heir looked at the bleak world, glad to be gone from the terrible place he'd just been. His face seemed frozen in a daze even if his thoughts were all alight with mistrust and a newfound hatred for the kin before him -but he recognized the she-cat.
He and Cunningheart (so far away!) had killed her seasons and seasons back... The Heir stepped forward to put his nose to hers - but it didn't feel like he was the one doing it. He may as well had been an observer.

Soulvoider was an observer. He stood in the shadows aside his fellow Powerfuls and the Ember. The tom found his gaze drawn towards the darkened borders of the Forgotten Kingdom where sparks of gold shone through the darkness. Is Shadowstar there? Searingeyes had told them (with a childish glee) that Shadowstar was with neither Those Above nor Those Below.
Maybe Shadowstar is just what the Fields need to protect them from the other Realms.

[Longstorm]

It was the same as before - the Heir couldn't move, shocking pain, want to scream, want to die - but this was worse somehow.
Maybe it was just him - it probably was - but maybe because this life was not given freely that it took longer to receive.
Scourge's expression did not change, but when the life was finished and the she-cat taken away, Scourge spoke. "In most cases, any cats you have killed would be your lives. But I will... make an exception." The cats in the trees gasped softly, some gently purring as they shifted in place.
"When the moon is at its next third, return to me. Every life you have taken (that fit my terms) will become yours."
Scourge then turned away, once looking almost ruefully over his shoulder. This Realm faded from the Heir's sight and he woke, two lives to his name.

[Loki]

Switchblade watched, quite curious to what was happening in front of him.
Though he still felt a tedious tugging of dis-belonging and stayed near his father
for close comfort. If something were to happen, he was sure that here he'd be safe.

[Guest]

Despairingcall laughed softly in surprise. "Well - in all my years." He shook his head. "This has never happened before - the Heir cannot have a name until he has all of his lives..." The father looked at his son. "But while the Heir knows this, do you think he'll wait, Switchblade? You know this cat better - think he'll listen to him?"
Despairingcall wasn't worrying about Scourge hearing him - the Realm had already begun to fade away, The Powerfuls carrying Switchblade's spirit back with them as they woke (getting into this Realm was one thing, getting out was another).

[Loki]

Switchblade smiled weakly, "He's a clever tom, He'll know that listening to experience and the very sapling of our success would be a better decision, though I think either way he'll prove a good leader. If only our comrades could open their eyes to this..."
He thought about it for a moment. Yeah I'm sure he'd be a fine leader.
He then mewed quietly, "How should we handle the coming fire?"

[Runfast]

Soulvoider, still close to the group, swiveled his ears towards Switchblade. He didn't turn, but he did mew, "Whatever our new King decrees, we will follow."
The view turned to black and The Circle awoke.

OOC: We just gotta wait for the kits, Terra, Corrupt, and Loveless to reach the camp so one of the kits (or whatever you want, Loki) to protect the sleeping Heir while he becomes King, and that kit will become Protector. (IKR)

[Loki]

OOC: I'm so excited! I'm thinking Bark?

[Longstorm]

OOC: Sounds good!

IC: Searingeyes was the last to go out, taking a long, last look at the back of Scourge, thinking of the things he had heard and dreamed. The brown tom sighed, closed his eyes, and woke.

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