| abstract | - A giant silver moon watched over the hills of grasslands bellow, it's cold light touched the land and illuminating the grass below silver. The moon's giant halo promised ice and snow in the days to come and drowned out the nearby stars from the night sky, pushing them to the farthest reaches of the land to sit just above the horizon. The clouds billowing at the other side of the lands coming into the moors, above the river that sliced through the grassy backside of the earth, declared that the moon spoke the truth. Next to this river by the pebbles that outlined it's shore and the reeds that stood alongside it. A makeshift nest had been created with brambles, and a gorse bush. Cats surrounded the nest nearby some dozed in the shrubbery beside the gorse bush. Others stood watch like meerkats ensuring their home would be protected. One dark grey tom with folded ears, covered in scars and muzzle scratched, his fur turned light in the moon's eye sat beside the entrance to the makeshift nest scanning his surroundings. His breath billowed before him in great white clouds showing the iciness of this almost completely cloudless night. Hushed mews echoed from the entrance to the gorse bush and slowly faded out into the open, other cats were inside this gorse bush confronting something, a sense of disaster seemed to linger on each of their unknown syllable and those on guard had looks of exhaustion and fright as their eyes shifted from spot to spot. Two large cats skirted the edge of the riverbed along side the reeds heading towards the fearful encampment of cats. One of the toms was larger than the other, his silver fur like the moon parted in some places to reveal large deep wounds, in other area's dark stripes of his pelt flowed down his side like streams past down his belly halfway down his muscular legs. His head was round and smooth with a large mane surrounding his neck, his ears stood on ends with small tufts on the ends and his large fluffy tail swept across the grass knocking the glittering dew from its ends. The other cat beside him was a slightly smaller tom, still large. Fluffer than a rabbits tail like his companion, muscular like him as well and paws larger than the pebbles they stood on, like boulders attached to long strong limbs. Though his pelt was red-tabby-and-white and shone like the sun in the moonlight and sunlight, and just as scared as the other toms. As he walked alongside his companion, only reaching up to the silver toms shoulder. They looked like the cats of the olden times and moved like them to, the ancient Lions, Tigers, Leopards, Jaguars all came through their movement and their looks. Climbing a small ledge up towards the gorse bush surrounded by the brambles and the shrubberies next to it. The grey tom at the entrance sat up as straight as he could and held his brown gaze to the silver toms powerful silver eyes, that seemed to shine like lights. The golden tom stood next to his companion and scanned the area watching the guarding cats and the huddled cats underneath the clear night trying to keep warm and get rest. "My lords," the grey tom greeted as they approached him. His size compared to them was imminently shown as they stood before him dwarfing him. "Fosh, my friend, fosh," rumbled the great silver tom in a deep mountainous voice and with strange and ultrafamiliar words. "You do not need to address us as your lords, any longer." "Forgive me, but I prefer to address you as you are," replied the tom dipping his head. "Your father is inside, he is waiting for you. The silver tom dipped his large head in a gesture of thanks to the guard and ducked low down into the entrance made for the rest of the cats of the camp and pushed through into the bush, his pelt rustling the bush and getting caught in the brambles as he went through. The red-tabby gazed at the grey tom for a moment and dipped his head in a gesture of thanks as well and headed into the small entrance along with his companion. Inside and underneath the gorse bush, cats sat in groups around the center trunk of the bush. Light flickered through the gaps between the leaves onto the dry grass below. As soon as the two large cats made their way into the bush, all mews where silenced and all eyes drawn to them, like a hundred different coloured fireflies. When the two large cats moved forward the others bowed their heads and moved away from them silently in respect and did not look up until they had reached the middle of the nest. The two toms sat before a large brown elder tom, his pelt seemed to move in the light of the moon and shadows of the leaves. He was a large cat like the silver and red-tabby toms but he had grown small, thin, matted, and ill. His flank raised shakily as he wheezed to breath, scars almost covered his entire body revealing that he had suffered through many battles throughout his lifetime. A small black and white she-cat much, much smaller than the three toms before the brown elders head and gently licked him to rouse him from sleep. His yellow eyes flung open and he raised his head and front paws shakily up from the moss nest that he laid on and turned to face the two toms who were waiting for him. "My sons!" he gasped, his voice vacant almost without sound "you are here at last!" "Yes father, you called for us and we came as soon as we could," the silver tom was in anguish to seeing what his father was going through. "Good, good, we have much to discuss," the elder replied. He turned back to the black and white she-cat who sat before him and his scars began to twinkle in the moon light. They were large bigger than what any cat could make, or cat in this place. Not even the largest of the two toms could rake such disastrous scratches down the side of his own father, his claws were no match for what ever did this to the elder tom. "The WiseCat and I have been at discussion. My time draws near to an end and so does the time of our people. We have been discussing what to do about our home, and with you two," The silver-tabby-tom tensed beside his brother and dug his claws into the soft ground below his paws. His brother made no movements what-so-ever but kept his golden gaze on his fathers thin, shaking body. "We have decided that is best for all of us if you two leave our land and search for a new sanctuary. The Invaders destroyed our home, took our land, killed most of our people. And now they sit at the edge of our makeshift home, threatening us, toying with us each day until we buckle and give in," the elder ended in a fit of coughing as the silver tom eyes stretched wide open in dismay. "This will be the best for the both of you and the remainder of our people," "Leave, father how can we leave in a time like this?" argued the silver tom. "You must!" spluttered the elder. "You must save the blood of our people, of our clan!" the elder ended once more in a fit of coughing and laid down to rest his weary bones. The red-tabby stiffened beside the silver and gazed in shock at his father. The silver tom took in a shaky breath of air and began to speak once more. "Where do we go? How do we know where to find sanctuary?" "That my son...is up to you," the elder closed his eyes and said no more. The black and white she-cat brushed her tail along the elders side as she moved forward. "You must take six others with you. You can not take any more with you, they would not survive the journey to the new land," she spoke in an ancient voice, seemingly older than the weak elder, though still strong and full of her wisdom. "But what if we do not make it?" asked the silver tom. "The stars have blessed me with faith, that you will find a new home. But you cannot stay here, death will only haunt you at our very entrance. You must go and never return," "How can you say that, if we return we could bring strength from what we could find. Perhaps even defeat the Invaders!" exclaimed the tom. "Even you do not have enough of your own faith in your voice to confirm the words that you speak. You must leave never turn back, don't come for us. From this moment on, you are dead to us and we are dead to you," before the silver tom could protest any further, the WiseCat turned away from them and began to gaze back at the elder who wheezed once more his breath. She had already decided that they were no longer living, dead to her and that it was their time to leave to never return. The silver-tabby turned to his brother and saw his own disillusion reflected in his eyes. The silver tabby shook his head clear of the clouding thoughts; "Come, Sun let us leave," he turned away from his father not able to say one last goodbye before he wandered out into the land. They wandered through the crowd of cats who were gathered before their leader, their eyes haunted but they did not wish to look at their leaders sons as they went to leave. Their minds already made up that they would stay here with their dying leader and wait to be taken by the Invaders. Once outside, Sun moved away from his brothers side and headed into the shrubbery near by not wanting to talk to him or maybe already in search of the six who would accompany them to find a new haven. The silver tom also noticed that his friend who was guarding the entrance had left without speaking, possibly overhearing the conversation that took black inside the nest and had gone away. He wished to speak to his friend and hoped that he would join him, but if he had already left then perhaps his mind was made up as well. The silver tabby looked up at the full moon that hung over the lands, it showed no emotion for this dark time, just its natural silver glow that reflected in the silver cats eyes and pelt. The stars were nowhere to be seen in the sky surrounding it and the clouds of snow and ice drew ever closer. The silver tom sighed and puffed out a large white cloud of air and closed his eyes. The gods have truly forsaken us... "Tawnypelt! Tawnypelt," a black she-cat streeked across the open space of the WindClan camp, dodge between sleeping bodies of the warriors who slept underneath the watchful eyes of their ancestors in Silverpelt. She was heading towards a large bolder at one side of the open camp that was made in a dip in the moorlands where they resided. The bolder had a large crack in the middle of it just large enough for a cat to squeeze itself through. The black she-cat heaved herself through the gap at a fast pace and stood inside the large boulder. Inside there was a large opening space, sand was the ground and there was a small gap at the top of the boulder which let a small amount of light into the area but not enough to illuminate it. The scent of herbs wafted around the opening, marigold, yew, mint, thyme, poppy and others scented the air in a strange mixture of colours and in the middle of the smell of plants, below the small light there was a nest and a tawny-brown she-cat sleeping in the middle of it. Her head lifted drearily and blinked her yellow eyes open and the sleep away from the corners of her eyes. She looked up at the she-cat in a confused manor. "What is it, Dustflare?" she mewed groaningly and began to stretch out her from paws. "It's Beechkit," the black queen puffed her speech, "He's coughing up blood!" In an instant Tawnypelt was up and on her paws she raced over to the back of her den and to the herbs that lines the back wall stepping on the white she-cat who was fast asleep behind her. The young-she cat awoke in a start and yowl. "Ow! Hey that hurt!" she exclaimed, "What's going on?" she asked grumpily and started to heave herself to her paws. Tawnypelt didn't reply she was too busy looking through her herbs to reply. Dustflare was the one to reply for her, "Beechkit is coughing up blood!" she cried to the young apprentice. "Oh no!" Frostpaw's voice was full of horror and she raced over to her mentor at the back of the boulder. "What do you want me to bring?" Tawnypelt turned to her apprentice eyes glazed and sorrowful. "Bring the honey," she mewed muffled by the herbs of tansy and coltsfoot and she bounded after Dustflare, squeezing through the gap and out into the camp. The apprentice sniffed through the herbs and found a small bundle of ivy leaves rapped around something tightly and tied together with vines. She picked it up gently by one of the vines and hurried after her mentor gently squeezing through the gap to make sure that it would not damage the contents of the honey inside. Tawnypelt raced towards a gorse bush on the other side of the clearing alongside Dustflare. They skidded to a slower pace and ducked beneath the bush and into the nursery inside. There in the pale moonlight coughing split the air with the wheezing breaths and cracks of the sick little kits distress. Blood before a mossy nest, stained the grass and sparkled in the light. The little black tom sat at the edge of the nest almost falling over from the fits of coughing. Tawnypelt put her herbs down away from the blood stained grass and began to gently lay the kit down on his side. She began gently needing the kits chest and side to try and ease the coughing. Tawnypelts apprentice came rustling underneath the gorse bush and into the nursery along with a large brown tom. "What's wrong with my son?" he asked panicked. Tawnypelt's apprentice rested the bundle of leaves with the honey inside next to the herbs that Tawnypelt brought with her. Beechkit's coughing started to subside finally. "The sickness has got to him," Tawnypelt mewed grimly. The brown tabby froze still and Dustflare moved over to her mate and buried her muzzle into his pelt. "Oh my son I'm going to lose him," she willowed. "Not if I can help it," Tawnypelt muttered as she continued to work on Beechkit. Another kit inside the nest popped its head out, black like Dustflare. Her eyes were round with horror as her brother still coughed and spluttered some more blood onto the ground on occasion. "Take Acornkit away, please Frostpaw," she gently mewed to Frostpaw her white apprentice. The white apprentice wandered over to the kit inside the nest and picked the kit up gently in her paws and wandered away from Beechkit and Tawnypelt. She placed her on the ground not far away and began to gently talk to her. "Everything will be okay, Acornkit," she mewed. "But Beechkit has the sickness!" she exclaimed, "Beechkit is going to die!" she cried. "No he's not. Don't believe it, he will be okay. He's a strong kit and he'll make it through." "But Birchpaw was a strong cat and it killed him," she contradicted Frostpaw. Frostpaw was stifled to reply, she could think of an answer. She just stared back to her mentor as she carried on working on Beechkit. Tawnypelt began to chew the tansy into a pulp and open the package of honey to give to him. She opened up the wrapped leaves around the honey and it began to ooze out onto the ground. She quickly removed a leaf and put the pulp of tansy on it and began to feed the honey to Beechkit. Beechkit grumbled and pulled away from Tawnpelt and the honey almost spluttering onto it as he tried to hold back a cough. "Come one little one. It's honey, it's really nice and it'll help ease the burning in your throat," she mewed. Beechkit shook his head from side to side still refusing. "You haven't eaten much since you got the sickness and this will also help get your strength back up. I promise you," Beechkit sat still, still refusing to eat the honey, his thin flanks heaved as he wheezed his breaths and jolted as he held back coughs. "Ooww...." he groaned the coughing was hurting more and more, weakening him and destroying him from the inside. "Please have the honey, Beechkit. It'll make the herbs taste better too," Tawnypelt tried to coax the little kit once more into eating the honey and he finally gave in and began lapping at the honey from the leaf that Tawnypelt held in her paw. His mother sighed a little in relief but still was on edge. Tawnypelt then fed the tansy and chewed the coltsfoot into a poultice after to give to him as well. Both with a dollop of honey. Beechkit's coughing barely subsided but it was enough to make the kit sleepy and get him some rest. Dustflare moved over with Acornkit by her side and nestled down in the mossy nest with both of her kits. Pressing them both close to her brown spot on her chest and grooming them until they slept. Tawnypelt and Frostpaw packed up the herbs and the brown mate of Dustflare sat silently at the entrance to the nursery watching his family through worrisome eyes. Frostpaw went through the entrance first and Tawnypelt was going to follow, but stopped just beside him and put down her herbs. "Vinetwitch, do..." she paused before she went on and turned away from the warrior, picking up her herbs and disappearing underneath the gorse and back out into the clearing leaving to the family together. He watched her leave and didn't say anything but twitching his tail. Frostpaw was waiting out in the clearing for her mentor a few paw steps further away and stared at her with sorrowed eyes and her white pelt glowing underneath the giant moon. "The moon is big tonight, isn't it?" she looked up a the moon and gazed only in worry, no awe. Tawnypelt grunted and continued to move away from the nursery and her apprentice. "What were you going to say to Vinetwitch?" Frostpaw asked. Tawnypelt looked at her apprentice for one moment and carried on into the clearing. Frostpaw didn't ask and followed her with the honey wrapped up in the leaves again and vine again. This time crossing the clearing all the cats who were sleeping in the middle were now watching Tawnypelt and Frostpaw in anxiety all their yellow, green, brown, blue eyes glowed with uncertainty, locked onto the Medicine Cat and her apprentice. Tawnypelt and Frostpaw approached the boulder at the other side of the WindClan camp and Frostpaw swerved in front of her mentor. "Tell me what you were going to say to Vinetwitch," she demanded through the vines and kept her voice low enough not be able to be heard by the other cats in the Clan. Tawnypelt let down her herbs and sighed. "I was just going to say to Vinetwitch, not to go to his mate and his kits and sleep with them tonight. I was fearful that he was going to get it," she gazed down at her paws, "But we're all going to get it, if we don't find a cure for it soon," she whispered. Frostpaw lifted her ears and her eyebrows in realization and then closed her eyes, placing the honey onto the grass. "Is that all we could have done for Beechkit?" she asked. "I'm afraid so," Tawnypelt sighed. "No, no, no! Cottonstar!" a cry pierced through the night air and echoed around the camp, jolting the dozing cats awake and causing Tawnypelt to spun around in a fright. A pinkish grey elder she-cat stood at the edge of a old badgers set where the elders made their nest and cried out once more before she began to billow. A rusty-red-tabby raced up to the elder and nuzzled her gently. "What's wrong, Cloudberry?" he asked gently. "Cottonstar is dead!" she yowled in misery. A cold strike tore through the Clan, all the cats in the clearing leaped up and started to mutter and cried their worries, others keened for their beloved leader. Tawnypelt looked up into the night sky trying to search for Silverpelt amongst the light of the moon. But the moon blinded the stars and kept the ancestors from watching over them. "Oh StarClan help us..." whispered Tawnypelt.
- Unlike the other , this being of ultimate power has no name and is unknown to most of Norrath. It has no image in which to create others, nor does it have a personality as even deities would. It is simply a driving force which causes universes to exist. Or not to exist, at its own whim. http://eqlive.station.sony.com/library/deities.jsp Source
- The most notable tool of this man's arsenal has been his seemingly endless succession of name changes. He seems to have used it and the separation of different wrestling territories to his advantage to catch promoters, fans, and other wrestlers by surprise throughout his career. However, many of the more well-traveled competitors need no list of aliases to identify. The face may or may not be recognisable over years of facial fractures and drug abuse; the man himself has been quoted as saying his nose now resembles a map of the Missouri River and he looks more like an older cousin than himself these days. The fighting style has matured with age, but the moves and personalized names will often ring a bell. The voice is usually a dead giveaway. An original name cannot seem to be found; Max Lawson is the oldest and the legal documents connected to it do not hold up to hard scrutiny. Insufficiently sourced rumors have circulated the less-reputable dirtsheets alternately that his birth records were destroyed, or that the original certificate's given name was originally blank in a last-minute cancellation of adoption.
- The Nameless, is a song from the album Vol. 3: (The Subliminal Verses), and is also a single.
- The Nameless was a evil sentient blade forged by the mad warlock Azran Bedlam. He used it to slay the Red Dragon in battle.
|
