The Rise of a New Era [BLOODCLAN CEREMONIES]

[FENRIS]

Rackham

Stony golden eyes stared as the body of Jagged lay in her den. Her breathing was ragged and uneasy, a loud wheezing leaving her jaws. She was clearly on her last limbs, there was no helping her now. Rackham watched in frustration as her side rose and fell as an unsteady rate, all the time and effort he put into helping the ginger tabby was for waste it had seemed. He could tell by her glazed over expression that she had accepted her fate long ago and was just waiting to pass over, he was half-tempted to ask to help her along but knew in his mind she'd refuse. So instead he had been pushing the poppy seeds to her in hopes her death would be painless. Contrary to what most thought, Rackham did care for the she-cat and expected great things from her but she came up short. Now without a Deputy on hand there was no one going to lead the Clan, were they to disband now like the BloodClan before them? No, he wouldn't let that happen. This was his time to shine.

No one had been allowed to see Jagged since her sickness began to take a turn for the worse, so only the medic knew what was truly going on. He constantly assured them she'd be okay, that she'd live to lead once more. But ever since the Gathering he knew, knew that there was nothing left for her. He tried nonetheless, which was something he never really did, but medicine only helped so much. It seemed StarClan had other plans for her, or maybe the Dark Forest was requesting her instead. He knew no one in the Clan besides himself believed in StarClan which made him assume that they suffered eternal damnation in the Dark Forest instead, but what did he know? StarClan did have contact with him but no one seemed to want to give him answers about that sort of thing. The near non-existent conscience however hoped Jagged would be hunting with the great ones in the sky, rather than dealing with the hellfire that was the Dark Forest.

As the Leader's breathing began to slow, the golden tabby gently rest the end of his stash of poppy seeds into the she-cats open maw, then used his paws to massage her throat to force her to swallow. She was the worst case of the sickness he's ever seen, which was a damn shame. He felt like he needed to do something, but what? After mulling it around for a bit and realizing he didn't have much more time, he cleared his throat and checked to make sure no one was around. "Jagged. As a Medicine Cat I know it's my duty to keep cats alive." He began, feeling uneasy. "And I told you I was a Loner who was given medicinal training from an ex-Medicine Cat of another Clan when I sought acceptance here. I wasn't speaking the truth when I met you but I feel it only right to correct that now as you lie here on your deathbed.

My name was Honeyleaf, I was the ShadowClan Medicine Cat for seven moons, an Apprentice for twelve. When my mentor became sick I ended his life to gain power, and it felt great. Like I was playing God. When I was given the rank of Medicine Cat I knew I held lives in my hands and it gave my such a rush, I had come from so far to achieve this. An outcast in my Clan, far too smart for my own good. The anti-social cat who rather learn medicine than play with other kits. Now I was able to end lives as I pleased. After Leopardcloud 'unexpectedly died', I set my sights on my parents. They weren't proud of me, I wasn't their fearless and social butterfly son they always wanted. They acted like they loved me but I could feel the scorn through their smiles. So I fed them deathberries while they slept, no one knew what had happened except myself. I was now truly alone but with the world at my feet. That is, until Littlepaw came along."

Rackham watched as Jagged's expression slowly turned, a look of disgust beginning to form. He didn't much care for how she felt though, and her eyes told him to continue. "Soon a young she-cat named Littlepaw was given to me to mentor. A scared, helpless little thing, she was blind and barely able to help herself let alone others. I made her into the perfect accessory to my murders, she wasn't threatened with death but it was soon shown what I would do to her if she mentioned anything to anyone. I made her help me in killing the burdens of our Clan, she no longer tried to avoid it. I know I traumatized her but it was just too easy. Having to train her could have put me in risk of being exposed so I did what I had to. I was living a rather joyful life up until I was caught, who knew being careless once could nearly cost you your life? Someone saw what I had been doing and told Stormstar, who entered my den just as I was finishing off another cat. Littlepaw was proven innocent, I on the other hand was exiled and chased out of the Clan like a rat.

I escaped death and lived my days as a Rogue, offering help to sick Loners only to kill them off soon after. I met up with a Rogue though, his name was Hornigold. For one reason or another I didn't kill him and we became almost friends. He'd give me food and keep me safe in return for my medical help. We talked a lot, he kept calling me Rackham though even after I corrected him several times. There are days when I think about Hornigold and start to feel a bit of remorse for leaving when I knew he was sick. I was only gone a few days, returning to the Moonstone for guidance, but I guess I underestimated his strength. I cried for the first time when I saw his lifeless body. The first person I cared for. I gave him a burial and knew in my heart where I had to go after that. Soon enough I found a small Clan, slowly growing and with a bad reputation. BloodClan. I joined this Clan but I didn't stop the murders. I killed our Clanmates Jagged. I ended their lives because I saw them as burdens to the Clan. And I still feel that way, why change when there is nothing wrong with my methods? And now with you gone I'll be able to continue and not fear being caught. You've given me a great power Jagged, and I thank you for that. With all said and done, I did enjoy your Leadership. But this is goodbye." And with his last words, the golden cat pressed his paws onto her throat, no longer caring if she died peacefully. She would feel no pain anyways, with how drugged she was. She didn't struggle, she barely moved. It was as if she either accepted it or no longer cared. Once her last breath left her lips, Rackham padded out of her den and made his way outside.

Once outside, Rackham made his way to the Bone Pile and leapt up to the top. He then seated himself and made himself comfortable before clearing this throat and giving out a loud yowl. "Cats of BloodClan, I call you to gather around the Bone Pile for a Clan meeting." His honey gaze scanned the camp as various cats made their way to the center and sit down in front of him, many looking rather confused or unsure of the coming events. Once everyone was there and quiet, the tabby nodded and mentally prepped himself for what he was to say. "There is no simple way to put it. After battling with a worsening sickness for moons, our Leader Jagged had passed on. May StarClan invite her in and she hunt with our ancestors, finally at peace and feeling no pain. Since she didn't leave a Deputy to take over for her in the event she'd lose her life, I only find it fit to take the position myself. I shall be the Tyrant of this Clan, having full control over the Leader spot and keeping my Medical position as well. There is no room for debate for Jagged bestowed this gift upon me on her dying breath." There was a mix of happy and angry cries, the snarls being heard more. This didn't faze Rackham, he knew he'd get backlash. "And for my first duty as Tyrant, I am obligated to give one of our Apprentices their Warrior name." Disgust filled the tabby's eyes as they moved towards Stormpaw. He didn't deserve this honour at all.

"Stormpaw, would you kindly make your way to the front?"

[Petrichor]

All things considered, Stormpaw was different than he was when he had first joined the Clan. He was once a fluffy young cat with a mind beyond what his eyes revealed, and though he pretended to be cynical, he loved his brother and joked around when no cat watched him. As Stormpaw grew older and his fur grew sleeker, Stonepaw began to falter. A ThunderClan patrol had injured him, and most thought that the shocks had passed onto the mind, but Stormpaw now knew better. His brother had been murdered. After his brother had died, he had met the ShadowClan medicine cat apprentice, Littlepaw. She had reminded him of himself earlier, and he found himself happy to be in her company; the only true companion he would ever care for. Stormpaw and Littlepaw met again and again, growing closer as they aged and Littlepaw became Littlecloud. Eventually Stormpaw learned a dark secret that was now his destiny to unravel -- Rackham. The medicine cat of BloodClan was a murderer, a manipulator, and a monster. Stormpaw could not forgive that. And at the same time, he had promised Littlecloud that he would stay out of danger. Ever since his brother's death, Stormpaw had began to spend less time in camp and more time out in the territory, still attending patrols here and there and bringing food back to BloodClan along with the regular warriors, but he almost never stayed the night, and when he did, he never slept. Stormpaw grew to be 13 moons old, but his eyes revealed experience a different warrior would tremble in their pelt at. The apprentice had dealt with Rackham over the course of his apprenticeship, dancing outside the medicine den and his own demise time and time again, and watching as Jagged began to fail in health. He knew in the back of his mind what would happen to BloodClan, but he had hoped. And today his hopes were shot down. The black cat had been in camp when Rackham began his speech, and his pelt only felt colder as he continued. Jagged had died without a deputy, and Rackham was taking over. Stormpaw would be surprised if he wasn't executed. He didn't join in the yowls or the snarls as Rackham continued; the small, sleek-furred black cat simply watched in silence, his face still as stone. As Rackham's eyes began to move towards Stormpaw, the apprentice idly noticed the lime-green leaves of some herb or another lingering on the cats' claws. I hate that color, he thought to himself before facing the new Tyrant. How honest of Rackham; he was no leader, and he knew it. Tyrant was a perfect term for him. Stormpaw felt the eyes of BloodClan on him as he slowly stood up and stepped forward, his mind and heart filled with malice for the golden tabby, but his eyes and posture revealing absolutely nothing. He had honed his skills well. Some cats watched him with envy, not knowing what foul deeds Rackham had committed, and those that had their suspicions watched him with trepidation and sympathy. Stormpaw did not lose the irony that Rackham's first duty was to deal with the one cat who irritated him. The black cat sat down again in front of the Bone Pile, his tail crossing neatly in front of himself. The scent of blood made its way to his nose, and he knew for certain that Jagged had been murdered, just like all the rest. Just like so many cats would be as long as he lived. Stormpaw couldn't live with that, he realized. He could no longer live in a BloodClan where Rackham held the iron paw of death over every cat who opposed him. Stormpaw would continue returning to BloodClan now and then, yes, and he would bring food, and he might even patrol. But he would never set foot inside camp again. The old office building where he had first met Littlecloud -- that would be the perfect spot. He would live there. And soon the day would come where he outlived Rackham and his murderous tendencies, and Stormpaw would return, a weight lifted off of his shoulders. But until then, Stormpaw couldn't risk disappointing Littlecloud or leaving his Clan in the paws of that monster. Not two seconds had passed since Stormpaw had sat down, and he had already planned out what he was going to do. The black cat looked Rackham dead in the eyes and waited for whatever the cat would do. Stormpaw was ready. The young, fluffy, idealistic apprentice who had joined BloodClan under the threat of death no longer existed. In his place was a sleek-furred cat with a cunning mind and the will to murder to ensure his survival. Moons ago, Stormpaw would have gagged at the thought of killing a cat. Now he relished the thought of it. Stormpaw was dead. The new cat would be born in the name granted by his worst enemy. "Yes, sir," the black apprentice said, his voice echoing in the silence. The words were simple enough, but they danced around two different things he didn't dare touch. Stormpaw would never call Rackham Tyrant or Leader or Deputy or anything else other than his name, and he wouldn't be executed for a lack of respect, either. Every sentence now, it seemed, had meaning behind it. Which is why his voice, so carefully modded by the twolegs, would be silent. The sleek-furred cat closed his mouth as his sentence ended, aware that it was the last words he would speak for a long time. The last part of him that desired freedom over all else was screaming, but none of it escaped. Stormpaw was dead. He had never existed. This new cat would make sure, however, that his death had not been in vain if he had to tear the proof in the form of Rackham's heart from his chest. His new life began today.