#lore event

With the fight over and your breath caught you can now get to assessing this little ‘situation’ and figuring out what to do next.

Obviously you need to make this mess dissapear and pretend nothing out of the ordinary went down at all.

The bodies are easy, there’s a dumpster right here and you’re pretty sure if you shove them right down the bottom nobody will ever know.

You take a moment to jam the door from the club with a nearby broken plank while you shove what remained of your assailants into the trash, piling assorted garbage over the top dropping the dumpster’s lid.

The blood would need hosing away and so you manage what you can with the faucet by the door, pulling off your shirt and rinsing it as best you could before turning your attention to yourself.

Yeah…you needed to shower to sort this mess out…

Shutting the faucet off you stand and shoot off a message to your boss.

[TXT]: Hey, I may 8e a 8it late coming 8ack from my 8r8k. Just have a quick errand to run, shouldn’t take me long.

[TXT]: Oh, and don’t go out 8ack, some asshole trashed it out there, I’ll get it cleaned up later.

And with that you punch in your home coordinates and vacate the scene.

When you arrive at your destination you make a beeline for the kitchen where you flip on a burner on your stove, holding the finger of one mechanical hand over the flame, letting the metal heat to an orange glow before pressing it to the hole in your side with a searing sizzle, sealing the wound before you repeat the process with your severed eartip.

Burner flipped back off and wounds sealed your next stop is the bathroom where you take a warm shower and give yourself a good scrub horns to toe.

You thought you were in the clear and long forgotten after all these sweeps without incident. That he’d lost interest in claiming or killing you, his little experiment gone rogue.

But as it turned out you’d thought wrong. Someone was still hunting you after all.

And now they’d found as you’d stepped out the back to toss the trash from the bar.

From behind you a voice speaks.

“Hold it right there and don’t even think about making a move. You’ve been a hard aberration to find but you should have know you couldn’t run forever.”

Well shit. This is going to be a problem. There’s no way in hell you’re going back, not alive at least.

You focus your senses, searching out anything that might give you any advantage.

Six pusher beats, all cold, all but one steady. One of them is uncertain? His pusher racing, the subtle scent of fear, the shifting of an anxious grip on a weapon. And there’s your opening.

In a split second you swing the bag of trash, catching it on the corner of the dumpster and splitting the plastic, the contents catching your would be captors off guard and giving you a half second to turn toward that wrap point you’d picked out with fangs bared in a snarl.

The man stumbles back, fumbling his weapon and then you’re on him, the blade loaded into your left arm springing free as you drive it into the man’s gut with a spray of cold violet.

You turn and charge the remaining five hunters who’ve managed to regroup and ready themselves, the Violet now a makeshift shield as they fire.

Rounds thud into the man and ping off the plating of your arms, your full focus now on survival you don’t notice the one round that finds the flesh of your side.

Closing in your throw the now violet corpse, knocking three down while the other two manage to dive aside.

You’re on then again, lunging with bared teeth that quickly find a vulnerable throat with a muffled squelch and the flooding taste of coppery nectar, the man in your jaws managing little more than a desperate gurgle.

It only takes you seconds before you’re on another of the hunters, hand closing around his neck with the crunch of splintering bone.

And then the cold sting of an electric discharge jolts you, quickly followed by another that leaves a salty tang in your mouth and you drop the limp body.

You turn with an enraged hiss, the thrill of the fight and the enticing scent of fresh blood urging you forward, a panicked look plastered across the faces of the two men as they struggle to draw their blades.

You reach one before he can, your own blade finding his throat in an arc of cerulean.

The other manages to draw and you twist aside, not quite enough as the tip of his blade takes the tip of one of your ears. His next swing you catch in your hand, grip closing around the bloodslick metal, twisting the weapon free of his grip and tossing it aside, your teeth once again find sofe flesh and you revel in the welling of blood that fills your jaws with each desperate pump of his pusher.

You feed eagerly until a weight hits your back as the remaining hunger throws himself on you, driving his blade deep and clinging on as you jerk upright with a deep growl, twisting and reaching for any handhold you can get on your remaining assailant as he brings one arm to clench around your throat in an attempt to bring you down.

You throw yourself back against the wall of the alley once and then twice, reaching again you manage to get a grip on the man’s ankle and you pull, fighting strength against strength but you have the advantage of mechanical strength and you feel his grip slip and then fail.

You slam him to the wall again then again and again finally throwing him to the ground where you rip into him.

When the rush of adrenaline and drive for survival runs dry the battle is well and truly over, all that remained five mangled bodies and you, breathless and streaked with blood.

Your work uniform is well and truly ruined, trash is strewn across the club’s alley and you’ve probably also well exceeded your allotted break time.

This…..is going to take some explaining. A LOT of explaining.

“Fernfur, would you be my deputy?”

Fernfur froze, jaw dropping open, and the moss ball he had gathered for the kits fell onto the ground by his paws. “...Sorry, Borageblossom, what? Did I hear you right?” His ear twitched nervously, eyes glued to the light ginger tom who had stopped him on his way. Borageblossom smiled faintly, tilting his head. 

“You don’t think you’d make a good deputy? You even have an apprentice.”

Fernfur tried to gather his words, still ruffled from the sudden question. “Wouldn’t, uh, someone with more experience be better? Like Ravenleaf or Thistlepelt?”

“It’s true that they’re older, more experienced,” Borageblossom replied, gaze distant as he almost seemed to look past Fernfur. “But you aren’t a worse choice. You are stronger, less frail... if we have two old warriors as leader and deputy again, who’s to say that it won’t end like it did...” His voice trailed off, and he coughed quietly as if clearing his throat. “Like before? With us all without leadership again? No.” He fixed Fernfur with a determined look. “No, you’re the one I want by my side as we help the Clan flourish again.”

“Borageblossom, I...” Fernfur started, but Borageblossom flicked his tail against the ground with a thump, as if saying he wasn’t done yet. 

“Besides, Ravenleaf is going to step in as our medicine cat. And Thistlepelt isn’t afraid to take a risk; an ordinarily good trait, really, but you have always been cautious. You have scouted ahead and made sure your Clanmates will be safe when heading to gatherings.” Borageblossom stepped forward, touching his nose to Fernfur’s head. Fernfur swallowed, nerves and awe and humility burning like the river in summer within his stomach. “Won’t you join me, Fernfur?”

“I will,” Fernfur whispered, closing his eyes and feeling the older warrior’s rumbling purr vibrate along his fur. “I will.”

The two stepped apart, and Fernfur looked back at the poor abandoned moss ball, falling apart at the edges. “But first...” He grinned a bit sheepishly. “Can I bring this to the kits? They’ve been bothering me about being bored.”

Borageblossom let out a quiet laugh, sparkle in his eyes that hadn’t been there in what felt like moons, and nodded. “Of course. Keep being yourself, and I’m sure you’ll be an excellent leader for FrostClan someday.”

“Well, I’ll do my best to serve by your side for as long as I can before then,” Fernfur replied, heart still hammering in his chest, and picked up the moss ball. 

He could still feel Borageblossom’s gaze on him as he turned around to head to the nursery, and his paws felt like they’d sink into the earth beneath him.

Boragestar padded into camp with a heavy heart and several more lives swirling in his mind than there had been when he had left. His remaining Clanmates were huddled in groups, pressed into each other’s sides, and some could be found still crouched where the bodies of fallen Clanmates had lay the nights before. Boragestar felt his stomach churn. So much death, and no one to blame save for the illness that no one could stop. Featherlily had fallen first; the old medicine cat hadn’t the strength to take care of the entire Clan single-pawedly while also sick, and the apprentice he had been training had already died unexpectedly due to a fox attack the previous moon. 

And here Boragestar was now, leader of a Clan thoroughly destroyed and defeated. He hadn’t ever expected to be leader—for StarClan’s sake, he hadn’t even been deputy! But if the other cats thought him worthy... 

And now he was back, empowered by StarClan but still weak from the recent events, struggling to think about how to comfort his Clan. Fernfur was doing his best at suddenly-appointed-deputy, it seemed; the tom was seemingly watching over their remaining Clanmates and seeing if anyone needed help that moment. Good; it was what Boragestar had chosen him for. His deputy’s attentiveness and caution would hopefully do some good in soothing what Boragestar knew was a sharp temper he had, and he hoped he could lean on Fernfur in the coming moons as they rebuilt.

...He really, really hoped he could. If Fernfur fell too... 

Boragestar shook his head, grimacing. No, Fernfur was much younger, stronger; he could keep hanging on, more than Boragestar knew he could. His own age might make him experienced, but Fernfur’s youth would hopefully aid him in staying by his Clanmates’ sides for moons to come. 

“And let us spin you a tale.”

[[Time for the next part of the event! It’s a simple part, all thats required is your vote! Comment your choice down in the comments, and the one with the most votes will be the chosen story! Now, each story has an important lore piece, so choose carefully.

Choice A - The Flower

Choice B - The Crown

“Let them ask away”

[[Welcome to Brian’s birthday event! However, the special man gets to be put on the back burner for his special day… or does he?

Now the real question is, who are these two? What do they want? That’s for you to find out!

Ask these mystery characters as many questions as you wish! If you ask the right question, you’ll help progress the event. Get the right chain of events, and the next level of the story will unlock! There’s no limit to questions, so go wild!