Warrior Cat Clans 2 (WCC2 aka Classic) is a roleplay site inspired by the Warrior series by Erin Hunter. Whether you are a fan of the books or new to the Warrior cats world, WCC2 offers a diverse environment with over a decade’s worth of lore for you - and your characters - to explore. Join us today and become a part of our ongoing story!
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11.06.2022 The site has been transformed into an archive. Thank you for all the memories here!
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One day she was going to wake up, and the world would be green again.
She would be surrounded by the majestic vastness of the Loch, highlands rolling from east to west, far as the eye could see. Or perhaps she would feel the familiar hum of a two-leg monster under her paws again, carrying her to new horizons. But today, like yesterday, she woke to a grey. Grey world, grey sky, grey characters. And gods, was she hungry.
Yes, her stomach pleaded as she crossed past the fresh-kill pile, but no, prey was not what she craved. It was an itch, a stir-craze that’d been bothering her the last few moons. It’d come as the disappointing realization had set in: that while this city was vast, full of two-leg oddities left abandoned, most of them were crumbling in disrepair. That one two-leg nest after the endless others carried the same trinkets and baubles. That it was impossible to see it all. If this city had treasure, she was desperate to find it.
The chatter of voices faded as she crossed through the camp entrance. While she and her sister resided in the League, she had to keep looking.
As she set down an empty road, with the sky lighting morning overhead, one thing was clear.
He knew not of highlands, of sun-bleached greenery or sloping hilltops threatening to shatter through the sky.
No, in his world, the slopes wound down into forested thickets, with hidden pools full of holy water--'Our Gods' tears anoint these waters,' his father'd said--and snaring shadows, as if those same Gods were ashamed of their worshippers. He knew of darkness and of blood, of righteous sin. Even now, so far away from his homelands, there was a similar halcyon stir in his soul as what Verne felt in hers, an insatiable thirst for something he lacked here in this city.
Sure, he could curb the his urge with debauchery, sleeping his way through the city, but when he was alone at the end of the night, listlessly drifting through alleyways, he was no more satisfied than the day before. It was after another midnight rendezvous that he happened to chance upon another walking down the same road, this avenue they either hoped led to adventure or absolution, and he quickened to a lofty gait until he was loping adjacent to Verne. "Quite a long way this one goes, innit it?" Cezra remarked beside her, eyes trailing along the endless path, sprawling down toward the rising sun. "Makes you wonder if there's anything at the other end. Treasure, like a rainbow? Or trouble?" His burnished gaze flashed, jovial but just as the tangled shadows of his familiar valleys hid his sins, danger was veiled by their darkness.
You’d be hard-pressed to find a cat more genial cat than Verne; she was always milling about with cats of different stripes, taking from each a little fabric of their lives, like she was weaving a big tapestry of lived-in souls.
So, when Cezra fell in beside her, her smile was easy and delighted, as if she was rendezvousing with an old friend, though she never met this cat in her life. “No road is long with good company,“ she quipped.
Verne’s tongue was fluent, thought it did carry the slightest twang of accent. What was more obviously foreign were the lines of her features, a bit sharper than those of the locals. Was this tom another unexpected holdover of the Loch, come to accost her? Or worse, leave her cold and half-buried, decorated with the leaves of the disgorging head? Was he the mystery killer? If there was any wariness in Verne, it didn’t register on her bright face.
“I’ve got an appetite for both,” she simpered. “Treasure. Or trouble.”
Just the other night she’d gotten herself entangled in a romp involving the warden and this stranger calling herself Eshek – needless to say, it had been the type of night you hardly remembered the next day, with only a pounding headache and one or two new scars to prove it was real. Someone had once told her ‘if you run away from trouble, it always follows.’ Maybe that’s why she ran headlong into it, and welcomed this tom, even after her sister told her it was time to be wary of strangers.
“Where you headed to, friend? I’m treasure-hunting if you care to accompany me.”
"Treasure-hunting?" Eshek's voice carried down from the roof of a building she was lounging on, her forepaws dangling perilously over the edge and her dusty white fur lit by the red of the rising sun. She'd been watching Verne for a while, purring lazily as Cezra joined the she-cat far below; she wasn't going to make herself known, was more than happy to sit there in the sun and waste the day away far from DayClan. Since her run-in with Foxstar and her friend date with Lucistic, she was feeling a little more secure and a little more like herself, and that reflected in a strange... not calmness about her, because Eshek was never calm, but more like a cheerful stability, like for today, all the puzzle pieces had been pressed in correctly. She felt hopeful and optimistic, and that meant she could be quiet.
Slipping out of sight, Eshek picked her way down to the street with quick grace. Reappearing from the shadows of an alley, she padded over to Verne, walking close past her and greeting her with a simple, "hey, goddess" and a wily, intimate smile. Of all the cats who had been at the party, she was likely one of the few who remembered most of it; a lifetime of getting wasted left you with certain immunities. Her eyes wandered over to Cezra, lingering on him for a moment like she was Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada, about to say that's all, and he was Anne Hathaway. Wordlessly, brows raised ever so slightly and head inclined, every inch of her unimpressed, her gaze drifted away and she sat down beside Verne.
Verne gaped at her. It was like a sleep paralysis-demon come to life.
The calico had had enough run-ins with demons and devils to last a lifetime. Somewhere in the wrinkles of space and time, her name was circled on a hit list, with a bounty ballooning with each breath. It was only a matter of minutes and days before the devil showed up to collect his due. Her soul was forfeit. The irony of Eshek taking to calling her goddess was almost enough to make her laugh.
What kind of Goddess made deals with the corporeal devil? Left her home a burning calamity as she fled, draping a new coat to live a new life? Verne had been too wasted to notice the moniker at the party. She didn’t quite remember where it’d originated from – but it caused her head to ache, like she was trying to remember too much at once.
But laugh she did, her accented words coming amongst a pearly white smile. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Verne rolled with the punches, and while Eshek had a prismatic energy that made her hard to read, (and an off-putting association with Hugo Bosswhatever that was she couldn’t quite place), Verne’s intuition told her that she should like her. And Verne was all intuition; never measured, never cautious.
“We’re looking for gold and silver,” she lolled dramatically. “And pearls and sapphires and perhaps some diamonds. To lift our trodden hearts and hold tight when all the pleasures of the world have turned sour. For where there is ruin, there is hope for treasure.” She gestured at the grey waste around them with a swanky grin. “And when you hunt for treasure, you’ll find more than you bargained for. Care to join me, and take your mind off your worries for a time?” fox
Hmm? A response, poised on his tongue, was swallowed, instead an unsettling quiet befalling the tom, observing the interaction of the two she-cats. Cezra wasn't quite sure what to make of it - the strange unfamiliar familiarity they shared, like they both knew each other intimately and not at all - but he didn't ask, didn't care. His smile was lazy. Verne's laughter was somewhat infectious, and he found himself chuckling along, despite being excluded from the joke.
"Perhaps we'll found a bounty enough for three or-" he hummed along, leaning his head in closer, eying Eshek and her visible distate for him, "will it amount to a killing spree? I guess we'll see." Perhaps they'd disagree with his decree, though crazy clearly was not just his psyche. Dropping the rhyme, he swept his tail in welcoming gesture, a gracious motion beckoning - insisting - Eshek fall in with them on their journey to find treasure- or trouble.
Everything that Verne said, Eshek was just smitten. She was so adorable. Pearls? Sapphires? Diamonds? To lift our trodden hearts? Hope for treasure? Care to join me, and take your mind off your worries for a time? Oh my God, all she had ever wanted was for a girl to ask her that. She just beamed at her with the kind of crumpled, dimpled smile that you get when you're looking at something so cute you want to cry, her eyes impossibly soft. "I'd love to, goddess," she replied almost tearfully.
And then Cezra was speaking, leaning in close to her. Her smile turned to a sour sneer in a heartbeat. "Oh, look, the worm learned to talk," she drawled, looking him up and down and finding him lacking. "Stay three steps away from me and I won't skin you for my mantlepiece. Okay, sweetheart?" She caught his cheek in one of her paws, giving it a condescending little pinch and shake before letting go of him roughly and sweeping back over to Verne, the love flooding back to her face.
"So," she said loudly, like she was announcing the beginning of their journey for a cinema audience, looking out dramatically at the endless road lit red and orange by the setting sun. A convenient gust of wind threw dust and grit into her eyes and she tried to rub it away while still looking dramatic and kind of getting blown off her feet by the force of the wind; the buildings on either side had basically turned the broken road into a wind tunnel. But her short fur being ruffled looked cool. "Where to, goddess?" She managed to get the grit out of her eyes near the end of the question and looked up, laughing slightly sheepishly. Her eyes were slightly red. "Pirate ship? Abandoned shopping mall? Ooh, maybe they have an old jewellery store where they forgot to take some of the stock off the shelves or outta the back. Where do you find diamonds?" Her charm sort of petered off near the end, too thrown by the genuine question she was asking herself, her gaze drifting away from Verne as she frowned.
The air was practically teeming with electricity as her two companions locked eyes, and Verne was caught in the middle, an unsuspecting smile on her face. She had no idea what was going on between them, but it smelled like drama. And she loved drama. “This’ll be fun!” she hopped to her paws, shimmying her hindquarters to prove her excitement.
The devil spoke in rhymes, and there was a time Cezra’s rhyme would’ve turned her nerves to slime. But she’d – rather intentionally – worn her nerves to charred ends with her thrill-seeking escapades. So, if Cezra, with his lazy rhyme-speaking charm drew reminders of the devil – and if, on that fateful night, a vague aversion to toms had been fostered in her – she didn’t appear particularly disturbed as she booped his nose playfully when it hovered closer to hers.
In any event, she had her loyal acolyte Eshek to protect her now, who was something of a demon herself. At least she remembered her being rather fierce when she’d accosted Regulus.
The air smelled of adventure as it battered her calico coat. Verne had already raided all the apartments in the area. She’d been searching for abandoned heirlooms, or at the very least the gold links two-legs favored on their paws and ears. The drawers and closets had been housed with two-leg fur instead, piles and piles of it. Treasure still eluded her.
“There’s nowhere more stocked with treasure than a shopping mall!” She declared, the wind carrying her honeyed voice across the grey wastes. “That’s where we’ll go!” She rose on her hind-legs, aided by a hefty gust, and pointed the way.
