For Riverstar’s Heir, do you have any idea where you want to land themeatically? Because from my reading of the possible themeatic directions, with the whole story being about this crisis of politics and succession, it feels like the character who “should” become the next leader of RiverClan narratively should be the Most ruthless/aggressive/willing to resort to dishonorable methods of dealing with rivals (reinforcing RiverClan’s entry into/building up of the early Clans’ emerging systems of battle society)
The alternative “most interesting” option I can imagine would be one that is least likely/least aggressive/some otherwise sort of underdog candidate (maybe not even technically “legal” depending on what qualifications there are for heirship?), but I’m not sure exactly what themes that would play into, other than maybe how the pursuit of power can change someone?
That said, your themeatic instincts are strong enough that I can see you having a strong idea for a “middle-of-the-pack” candidate winning out over the others just as much, so— I am genuinely curious what your thoughts are for where you Want this crisis of succession to end, narratively, even if you don’t have an exact cat picked yet.
Good ask because I'd not been clear about the theme yet, I think. What Riverstar's Heir is trying to get at, at the heart of the issue, is that this is a bloodbath caused by naiive optimism and greed.
The commandments to establish borders and prevent killing are nice, but not enough. You can't just have a society on good will, not when POWER is up for grabs in the scramble. It's about collapse, and how innocent, well-meaning people get caught up in the devastation. Not JUST the troublemakers.
Riverstar was an EXCELLENT king, beloved and wise, but if you don't prepare a proper successor, everything you worked hard to build might crumble to ruin.
Something unique is lost in this shuffle. It's no longer the River Kingdom, and the Wind Coalition also becomes WindClan at this point. For better, and for worse, they both lose a bit of what made them special. Redscar's choice at the end also solidifies the early political power of Clerics, which is eventually broken many generations later with Larkwing's Strike.
So, fragment time,
At LEAST three "heirs" end up getting killed.
So, because these ones are gonna die, I have Three Heir "Slots" that I'm committed to and just need to fill;
The Eldest, Riverstar's oldest living biological child.
The Chosen, Riverstar's adopted heir, a rather meek prince easily pressured into backing off his rightful claim. This one is likely going to be the BB! version of Mossfire.
The Firstblood, directly descended from Riverstar's FIRSTborn child. This one is likely going to be the BB! version of Jumpfoot.
I also have two tentative slots.
The Accomplished... who is a blood relative of Riverstar, but more of a "puppet" for WindCo. Someone they're intentionally propping up hoping for power.
The Diplomat, from WindClan, who is a lot like WindCo's puppet but this one is more subtle about it. Poetic. Happy to purr and remind the world of the wonderful, deep ties that had existed between King Riverstar and Thunderstar.
And, LASTLY, there's The Deputy. The most qualified choice, who served Riverstar, but was no relative.
It feels right that the Deputy is the one who is chosen in the end... hm.
Anyway
After a smaller conflict near the start of the story, either The Eldest or The Firstblood seems to be the favorite to win... but decides to wait for the morning to set out for the Moonstone and take their lives.
In this time period, without selecting a successor, this heir is assassinated.
In fact it might be VERY fun if this heir, being so much like King Riverstar himself, decided to throw a pre-emptive celebration.
Meat! Merriment! MURDER!!!
Having them go out via poison would be a fun way to send a character off.
This is going to be why the "DEPUTY BEFORE MOONHIGH" rule is established, but it's also what kicks off the bloodier parts of the plot.
Thinking about it... a cleric and/or the deputy should probably tell this heir, "Hey, buddy, you should really get going" and they're ignored.
With Eldest Heir gone, the small conflict from earlier becomes an LARGE conflict.
And, like they did back in DOTC, families start to rally together. Especially Eldest's offspring, who think they're just as entitled to the Throne as The Firstblood/Jumpfoot
King Riverstar used to encourage cats to enter the River Kingdom freely. The borders were essentially open, and everyone was allowed in, as long as they were willing to cross the river.
(maybe I'll even have him pull down the tree from Riverstar's Home intentionally, happy to accept other cats into his Kingdom. Then he defends it from Skystar, specifically, but refuses to destroy what he built.)
This had allowed River Kingdom to grow large and powerful, but it also meant everyone in River Kingdom had connections to the other Clans.
Which meant there were cats supporting OTHER bids to the Throne, like the one from WindCo and the one from ThunderClan.
Smelling a way to grab power, Duststar supports his favorite heir, and Whitestar of ThunderClan also begins to stick his nose in.
Each Heir tries to run the River Kingdom, and things start to get hostile. If there's more than just the three heirs, even more of them start to get openly attacked, chased out, killed, until there's only The Chosen and The Firstblood left.
Somewhere around here, River Kingdom is invaded. Probably by the leader of SkyClan at the time, claiming that they don't even NEED an heir to take what these cats clearly don't deserve.
And that's when the internal conflict becomes a FULL-BLOWN WAR between four Clans.
In those days, the camp was at Sunningrocks, right in the middle of the river.
ThunderClan jumps in to help its "Ally" against SkyClan, just like historical precedent, but they have NO IDEA who they're fighting against, because the whole Kingdom is divided. It's not as simple as it was in DOTC anymore.
WindCo came to support its favorite heir, but its cats don't obey Duststar's orders when it comes down to fighting their own friends and family, meaning they're functionally fighting EVERYONE and losing a TON of cats
SkyClan is getting pummeled because EVERY group is pissed at them as well as each other, getting a painful awakening that they are NOT being run by Skystar the War God anymore and they're no longer the biggest, baddest bananas in the bunch
(shadowclan is watching all of this and eating popcorn. moisturized. in their lane. unbothered.)
The climax here, between The Chosen and The Firstblood, is a battle that matches the chapter from COTC. They launch at each other, in a battle to the death.
The first Sunningrocks Battle.
They both wear "crowns" on their head, one custom made for Mossfire's short-furred head, and traditional, braided into Jumpfoot's long, lush fur.
As they claw, bite, and tumble, they plunge into the river.
Fighting and hissing, they try to pull apart to rise up for air-- and can't.
They're STUCK
The crowns became tangled in their skirmish, and neither one can work with the other to bring them both to shore, against the current.
Both heirs, the last with a proper claim to the throne, drown together in the river.
At the end of the bloodbath, the tone is very somber. The rules were meant to prevent The First Battle from ever happening again... but The Second Battle had just taken place.
The body count wasn't AS high as the First Battle, but it was still a bloody loss. Every Clan lost warriors. Even ShadowClan, who hadn't even been IN the conflict, checked its ranks to find that powerful warriors had run off to go fight with their Kin.
Now they could be buried with them, too.
And now, there was no proper heir. If any descendants were still kicking around, they were refusing to take a throne that so many cats had died for. Jumpfoot and Mossfire never emerged from the River, their bodies, and their legendary crowns, were never found.
At first I'd been considering Redscar being swapped to become a RiverClan Cleric, but now I'm thinking it actually makes sense he's still from ShadowClan. ShadowClan was the ONLY neutral group-- it's reasonable for the clans to turn and request their partiality.
So, Redscar peruses the options, having followed the situation from afar.
His choice, in the end, was The Deputy. The most experienced advisor who knew Riverstar, and probably tried to stay at his adopted daughter's side as well. The closest thing they'd had to a leader all along.
(Thought: Maybe this character will be the POV. Make it like a bit of a fake-out title, you THINK Riverstar's heir is Mossfire. But it's actually been this one all along.)
He creates his famous false sign, and from there, the five groups discussed how they could prevent this from ever happening again.
They create the Law of the Deputy, commanding that ALL Clans have a single Deputy who will inherit the Clan after the leader passes away, ending dynasties in WindCo and River Kingdom and centralizing power in the other 3.
With the massive losses that WindCo and River Kingdom experienced, they also restructure, forced to accept a lot of help from ThunderClan and ShadowClan.
The borders began to close up, leading to the sentiment that would lead to Commandment 4, the Law of Loyalty, in just one more generation.
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"Pohatu."
The voice echoed like a knife hissing as it scratches marble. The prisoner (the only one, completely isolated from the rest of the city), huddled in a nook, shivered a little further away into the corner he'd tucked himself into and held onto himself a little tighter.
He did not respond to his own name.
Deliberate steps moved closer: clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Their rhythm was slow, cold; they accompanied a scrutinizing stare.
They stopped before the cell.
The air felt freezing.
"Pohatu."
The prisoner did not answer.
"You are not stupid. That I know."
The chilling voice was soft. It spoke lowly, taking the time to properly enunciate each and every word perfectly.
"I am certain you know what I am here for."
Once more, only silence replied.
"I would advise you do not make this harder than it already is."
He watched as the prisoner's knuckles shook while tightening around his own trembling shoulders, as though trying to hide his weakness.
"Collaborate. For your own sake."
A sob tore through the room.
Another.
Another.
Another.
"Please," the prisoner finally babbled, voice hoarse from disuse.
Broken.
It was his turn to be faced with the silent treatment. Not a word reached him as he cried inconsolably, naked face pressed against his arms, for what seemed like hours.
His brother stared on, unmoving, expressionless, until the wailing died down and the body slumped on itself from the release of pent up emotions.
"I take it you have returned to your senses."
A crooked whine.
"I do not believe I understood that."
A confused mumbling.
"Speak clearly."
"Yes!" his brother sobbed.
His orange eyes looked into blue ones pleadingly, begging for help, for forgiveness. He watched them furrow, watched clouds of condensation pour from the sides of the white mask.
"You are guilty of a terrible crime."
"Yes."
"You are aware of your misconduct."
"Yes."
"You are aware that I cannot call you brother."
A pained wince: "Yes."
Another long moment of quiet passed.
The prisoner had shifted his gaze onto the floor.
The Toa watched him, fists clenched as tight as he could.
"Are you sure your forgiveness is deserved?"
The body shook from another hysterical sob, as though it had just been struck by a lash: he inhaled sharply a few times, but could not bring himself to speak.
"Answer me."
There was another attempt. Again, nothing came of it.
"Pohatu."
"Please..."
He stared.
He stared at the pitiful thing so powerless and miserable, completely alone, curled on itself on the floor as it shuddered.
"Please..."
He stared at the pitiful thing speaking in a voice that crumbled upon itself like gravel rolling uselessly down the side of a mountain.
"Please, I... Please..."
For a long stretch of time, nothing happened.
Then the door to the cell unlocked.
Pohatu dared to look up: Kopaka stood over him, unflinching, unreadable, hands balled up in fists hard enough to crush boulders between his fingers, looking down with his glimmering blue eyes as the air around him crackled with frost.
He could have so easily torn him apart right now.
Only the two of them, here, in the dark, far away from any other form of life who could have heard any commotion or cared enough to investigate.
Nobody would have even known. Not until it was too late.
Kopaka kneeled before the former Toa and pulled him into a tight embrace, one hand cradling his nape while the other pressed hard on his back to squeeze him closer to himself.
He allowed himself a sigh in relief only when he felt the other's arms wrap around him, his face against the crook of his neck.
Pohatu held him by the waist tight.
"I missed you," he sobbed.
I missed you too, Kopaka could not say despite how desperately he needed to.
He tightened his grip.
Then the pain came.
Blinding and sudden, cruel, immense, so profoundly unexpected that all he could do was choke on his own breath.
His torso fell backwards, bending much farther that it should have. His heartlight pulsed erratically as he heaved, adrenaline rushing through him and locking his every muscle in place. His legs were slumped, completely unresponsive like the rest of his lower body; all that was keeping his entire form from crashing on the pavement like a broken doll were the kind, solid, dependable arms of his brother.
A hand wriggled in the now empty space where it had shattered his spine in a morbidly playful way.
He was laid down gently, all things considered.
His eyes only stared at his butcher wide and thoughtless like those of a helpless Rahi before a much faster predator.
Pohatu smiled down at him sweetly, exactly like he always did.
"I missed your soft spot for me."
He tore his hand out of his brother's spine with a ghastly crackle, not even flinching, to wrap it around his throat. He yanked: Kopaka coughed out an anguished wheeze as a chunk of his neck was thrown out, clattering a few bio across the floor.
Pohatu pressed his thumb between the Toa of Ice's face and his mask, applying just about the slightest leverage possible to part the two. It seemed to take ages, for the 'pop' of a dislodged Kanohi to echo through the silence of Kopaka's frantic breathing; but even with all that time for a counterattack at his disposal, he did not manage to raise even a single finger against the other. He only stared, fearful, shocked, in denial.
His brother laughed in the same way he always laughed - a gentle, booming sound, friendly and pleasant, that warmed one's heart.
"You couldn't hurt me if you wanted to with all your being," he mocked him, making the sneering words seem like yet another lighthearted joke as he twirled the Akaku between his fingers: "And isn't that why Tahu and Photok are dead?"
He looked onto the other's face. He'd seen it so few times - after being overwhelmed by the Piraka on Voya Nui, for example.
He remembered it had been awfully surreal, to see it; almost frightening, but familiar somehow.
It stirred nothing in him now.
How lovely.
Pohatu leaned closer to it, until he could feel the shaky breaths from Kopaka's mouth curl around him. They were barely fresh.
"A shame, eh?"
Blue eyes stared at him, horrified.
What a beautiful thing to see.
"That you couldn't save me after all."
He laughed his usual jovial laugh again as he stood up, joints cracking a bit while he stretched. The Akaku clicked onto him in a perfect fit.
How nice of him: pure unwarranted trust, forgiveness, an open door, a hug, and now even a fairly useful Kanohi to replace the one he'd been stripped of lest he use its powers to break himself out of containment. Truly, he was almost starting to feel spoiled.
Kopaka squirmed between his feet. Was he trying to get away?
He couldn't help but giggle.
"There's your only flaws: you're too smart for a leech to bite you."
Pohatu gifted him the sweetest of his smiles.
"And you love your siblings too much."
The air shattered beneath his foot with a sickening crunch.
Pohatu didn't even spare a glance at his brother as he walked away from his corpse, face crushed to bits making an absolute mess on the cold unfeeling pavement, body twitching before the rigor mortis settled in fully; the Toa of Shadow hummed a mindless, cruel song, something right out of a Makuta's repertoire, as he he made his way into the halls of Metru Nui's colosseum in search of whoever else in this enormous playground would have the honorable misfortune to be his second victim of the day.
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