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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"God dammi—come here, you little ass," Eshek hissed, perched incredibly precariously on an outside windowsill at the edge of Twolegplace, hindlegs bunched up beneath her, hind claws digging in to the popcorn-paint-finished bricks in a desperate effort to fight gravity, one forepaw clinging to the inside of the window and the other straining to reach in and grab her prize. Suddenly, a door on the floor below slammed, the wall shook, and Eshek lost her grip. "AAAAAAAHHHHH." She fell screaming.
present...
Carriondare dropped the gift for their first training session in front of her apprentice on the ground outside his den, awkward and embarrassed and not looking at him, all hunched shoulders and a glare that said if you tell anyone about this or bring it up to me past this moment I'll kill you in your sleep. Her pelt was scored through by rose thorns from her fall; she'd gotten up before dawn to go and get this stupid present. When she'd been announced as Doompaw's mentor at the Blossoming Ceremony, she'd been so frozen in place that Lucistic had had to shove her forward to go touch noses with her apprentice. And even as she had stumbled over to do that, she’d still been a staring, frozen mess, huge blue eyes and stiff legs and her fur prickling self-consciously under the cheers of the whole Clan. She wanted to do something nice for him and make him feel like she cared. Which she didn’t. She totally didn’t. He was just a dumb apprentice. She wasn’t at all honoured to have been chosen as a mentor and taken a chance on for god knows what reason by Glowstar, who up to that point had only seemed determine to turn up her nose and see the worst in her. She wasn’t at all relieved and happy beyond measure to have been given this opportunity to fit into the Clan. No. She hated this.
She gruffly pushed the gift towards Doompaw, head turned away from him stubbornly, looking like a hunted, shuffling teenager who would snap your head off if you mentioned the sappiness of it. Said gift was a surprisingly pretty little posey of flowers, the stems held together by a bracelet of brown wooden beads curled over itself three times; it could be worn as a necklace or a bangle or—or thrown away if he didn't want it, she didn't care. "Wanna learn how to kill a guy?" she mumbled, breath fanning over her own chest fur from where her head was bowed slightly and turned away, still not looking at her apprentice. Her methods were questionable, dishonourable, violent and sly, designed to kill and not maim, and she was sure Glowstar wouldn't approve of her corrupting the youth of DayClan with League training. But this weird little kid was under her care now, and that care meant teaching him how to protect himself so nothing could happen to him or catch him off guard when she wasn't around.
Not that she—not that she would have even noticed.
He had just finished giving himself a light groom when his so-called mentor approached him. He raised a wary eyebrow at her offering. What even was it? He eyed it skeptically, not really interested in whatever she had to offer. He looked her over, appraising her on her appearance. She didn't even look like she could kill a cat. He left the gift where she placed it, not offering it a second thought.
"Bold of you to assume I haven't already killed a cat." He smirked, rolling his eyes. For Equitypaw, he would have done anything. Set the world completely on fire if she asked it of him. He was terrified of how little time they might have together and would kill every cat in this clan if she asked. She never would, but he still would do it if it meant making her happy. Nobody knew about her condition except for him but he knew what it meant for her and for him.
An earlier conversation came to mind and he groaned internally. His father, Fadingsight, had given him a rare and stern talking to about training. Apparently in these clans you had to do as told. Apprentices must listen to their mentors and yadda yadda. All very boring. Very lackluster. Doompaw would rather go back to bed.
"I suppose I don't have much of a choice." He sighed. Word would get back to his father if he did. "Let's go and get this over with." The lean black tom got to his paws with a sigh, stretching out his muscles. At least some exercise would help him loosen up a bit.
Eshek eyed the rejected present with a look that was somewhere between wounded and stubbornly, childishly annoyed. She didn't need him to like it anyway, whatever. It was an embarrassing gesture. Bold of you to assume I haven't already killed a cat. Eshek slowly raised a brow, silent for a long moment; then she let out a disbelieving burst of laughter, like she couldn't comprehend what he'd just said, like a chipmunk had just walked up to a wolf and told her he was a big, bad, scary killer, like she wanted more than anything to make fun of his attitude but was holding herself back because of the Clan decorum she was bound to. Clearly she couldn't tell him she used to be a Proxy and a torturer and had killed cats for the simple crime of being too tantalisingly close to a cliff when she was with her friends and wanted to make them laugh. "Yeah, okay."
"Ohhhh, yeah, it's a burden, I know," she groaned in mock, cooing sympathy, slinking around behind the tom to give him a forceful shove towards the camp exit with her muzzle. She was treating him more like an older sister who wanted to be out somewhere else but who had been stuck babysitting her kid brother. "We've all been in that edgy teen phase. Becomin' a warrior, learning how to serve your Clan and put kits and elders first- no, yeah, okay, that sounds disgusting, scratch that. C'mon, move." It didn't sound disgusting - in fact, a great deal of her liked the sound of that sort of universal care and companionship and ease - but her stubborn League indoctrination denied it.
Eshek slipped out of camp and trotted through the sun-drenched forest, little gnats floating in the rays of sunlight. It was clear in everything she did - the way she moved, the way she talked, the way her eyes were just a little too sharp - that she wasn't a Clan cat; now, as she slipped down the paths between trees, low to the ground and with long, quick, loping movements, she looked like a lioness. She led her apprentice to a shadowy clearing circled by thick, fallen logs, sun caught in the thick leaves and dappling the ground, and sat down, her short claws slipping in and out of their sheathes. She was sleek, but she radiated an odd sort of restless, buzzing static that told you she could kill at a second's notice. "Okay, you think you're dangerous, kitty? Attack me."
He had decided to go ahead and put on the necklace. Even if he wasn't particularly interested he didn't want to be rude. Equitypaw would have his tail if she found out he was rude to his mentor on the first day. Then again that would be cute to see. Maybe he should tell her that he was rude just to see what she'd do. He smirked to himself as he got to his paws and followed Eshek out of camp.
Doompaw eyed her movements and the way she walked. She was certainly going to be fast and he probably would lose. He was not like many of these other apprentices, however. They had traveled quite far to get here and he had to fight tooth and nail to keep everyone safe. He may not have been the best fighter, yet, but he was certainly an effective one, more or less.
He circled Eshek, searching for an opening, a weak spot, a side she favored, anything. He wasn't particularly finding one. That was okay. He just needed to expose it. He darted forward, batting his paws at her legs and darting back, watching her curiously. He wasn't stupid enough to think he could take on a full grown cat without some kind of strategy, even if she probably wasn't trying to kill him. Then again, maybe she was. Who knows.
Carriondare just watched her apprentice bat his paws at her with a genuine look of desolation. She sat down heavily, like she had to be on firm ground to make sense of the situation. "That's it?" she asked, her voice authentically crestfallen and lacking any hint of joking. It was hard to stun Eshek, but Doompaw had done it. "Well, you... At least you're quick," she added with a weak, crooked half-grin, trying to find something good about the display and encourage him. Her own mentors had been less than patient and certainly less than gentle - one wrong move when learning to blood-let a prisoner and a paw was smacking the back of her head; let herself get pinned during battle training and claws were digging in around her eyes, or lemon juice was being squeezed into them (you still want an eye? Huh? Doesn't seem like it, Eshek). Though she saw nothing wrong with that method of training, it hadn't occurred to her that she should treat Doompaw like that.
"It's okay. We'll go slow. You've got a... An underhanded air about you, y'know? You're not DayClan, are you? That'll work for you. All the other apprentices will be learnin' to play by the books, and they'll want to. You'll have an edge. There's a lot you can do with one'a those. 'S'all you need in life." Standing up, Carriondare circled around her apprentice, sharp eyes darting to and fro as she looked him over. Glowstar would recognise her League fighting techniques and wouldn't approve, but putting decency over the potential to survive was an idiotic way to live. Nothing should be out of bounds if it gave you an advantage.
"I'm taller than you," she continued as she circled back around to his front, "but I have a wound that's takin' a long time to heal on my face." There were three scratches scored diagonally from above her right eye to her opposite jaw, crossing the bridge of her nose, inflicted by a SunClan warrior. "You manage to open that, get blood in my eyes so I can't see, you've got the advantage. It isn't honourable, but it works, and it's better than being dead. Always look for a wound before you engage someone - it's a hell of a lot easier to use one that's already there than inflicting one yourself. My long legs also mean it'll take longer for me to get back up if you get me on the ground. So."
Without warning, Carriondare hurled herself at Doompaw as quick and light as a whip crack. She caught him round the neck mid-air, claws unsheathed, and dragged him with her as she hit the sandy earth and rolled. Her teeth sank into the fur round his scruff - it was a clear warning, like a ticking clock: dislodge me before I break skin.Either I bleed first, or you do. She wasn't playing by any rules; anything went.
i am leaving soon, hit me up anytime on discord <3
2,396 posts
Post by uniqcrim on Sept 19, 2021 15:01:32 GMT -5
He listened to her words with curiosity. The way she talked and moved, the scars... he had a pretty good feeling she wasn't from Dayclan like her father, like him. But it was different from where he had grown up. She clearly knew her stuff with fighting so he would heed the advice. If he was going to protect Equitypaw and stay alive through live he'd need it. Once she was gone he had no idea where he would end up.
He was caught up in his head and thoughts, his eyes only lazily regarding the older cat when she rushed him. It knocked him off his paws and he growled in frustration and irritation. He tried to twist in her grip and pain sliced through him. Heeding her advice he search for her face with his claws and his back legs clawed the air uselessly. He managed a hard and sharp blow to her ear and hoped it was enough as he rolled in an attempt to pull himself away from her.
Eshek let out a satisfied hiss when Doompaw managed to strike her ear; the blow reopened the deep v-shape that Pinesimmer had accidentally sliced through it and blood poured over her face. Realistically, she could have kept fighting through it, but she couldn’t expect her apprentice to best her his first time if she poured everything she had into it; so, she let him go and instead backed away, eyes squeezed shut, brushing her forepaw over the right side of her face with quick, frantic, strokes, over and over, to try and clear the hot blood from her eye.
“Well?” she instructed him through the haze of blood that still blinded her. “What do you do now? You’ve only got a second or two.”
