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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Post by achromatic on Jan 10, 2022 20:15:21 GMT -5
He had never forgotten.
The kits were growing up fine now. In fact, they had never been better. There was a kindness the universe had graced him, in the wrinkles of Eshek's eyes when she smiled at the kits, in the softness of wonder in Tilly's baby-blue eyes, in the smile, so rare, on Laertes' lips when he found something new, in the excitement of Nour's expression, in the matched mischief of Cordelia's...there was so much warmth in his chest, so much love for them he could barely find the space for anything else...
Yet...
There were shadows that crept up when the sun went down, shadows that still sat in his heart. There was the look that still haunted their eyes at the thought of losing the little ones, there was still the feeling of helplessness that never dwelled long enough, like gasoline moments before being set to flames, a wildfire that ravaged his heart and left nothing to chance, surrounding the town of paradise and razing it to the ground. Fear made him freeze, but fear wasn't helplessness. Helplessness made him angry. It made his blood boil, his heart beating so loudly in his ears he could scarcely hear anything else.
Before everything, he was going to have his vengeance.
Elizabeth had done most of the work really. As little as he trusted anyone, he could trust the assassin to do his dirty work, that was for certain. He would never admit it but the league felt more and more like his home, more and more for his claws to reach and take what he truly wanted.
Bermondsey was patient. Patience was a virtue. Yet, before the world could be engulfed by fire and brimstone, before he lost his chance...
He wanted what he deserved. He wanted his revenge.
The trees were the easiest place to hide, in the darkness of the night. NightClan cats could understand that well, could truly embrace the true calling of the natural state of the universe, yet he had dwelled in darkness too, practically bathed in it, and the cat he sought held a lightness in her coat so contrast to what she truly was, a devil in disguise. She rarely walked alone, yet the arrogance was noted. She thought herself above anyone else in her clan surely. That would be a mistake, if he caught her out in the wilds this way.
A rustle of leaves, mimicking the breezes that drifted through the night, was the only sign that he was still there, leaping from one tree to another, nothing but the shadow of a bird, except this bird traded his wings for claws and a thirst for revenge.
hahahahaahahhahaahah this is the answer to how aspen goes missing so pretend i actually replied to it uhhhhh when it was made which was before i stepped down oops
It had been a long time since Aspenstar had felt love in any fashion. Of course, she had Phantomfox, and he certainly loved her, but since her miscarriage, even those feelings had waned. This wasn't her mate's fault; in fact, the tom didn't even know. However, the loss of the creatures growing inside her womb had been the final frost. Now, there was nothing left of her that was even capable of love, of any emotion, really, other than disgust and a sureness of her own superiority. No one meant anything to her, not anymore. This made the feline even more dangerous. She thirsted for blood, ached for the feeling of knowing that at the end of the day, everyone fell but her. Once a killer tasted blood, and in the quantity that she had, it was only natural to want more. It was a way of life for her now, a fundamental piece of the whole that had made Aspenstar who she was today. At one point, it hadn't been. There was a day when Aspenstar was no different than any other garden variety cat. But, her life had been hard on her; every blow done to her body cementing the fate that she would one day have. Didn't the villains always have sad stories? Each of them had their own origin story, the moment that they decided to turn away from the laws of man to create their own. Her's had been a collection of moments, moments that turned a child into a machine, moments that turned a machine into a weapon of mass destruction, each ensuring that she would come one step closer to her final descent.
Of course, she didn't realize this, though. Aspenstar, having fully betrothed herself to the darkness, was completely unaware of the fact that things were changing. Perhaps she had never heard the story of Icarus, who flew so close to the sun that his wings melted and he plummeted to his death. Perhaps more likely, she thought such a story did not apply to her. After all, Icarus was mortal, weak. Deep in her delusion, Aspenstar saw herself a god. Gods did not fail.
The leader's body sifted through the forest, as nearly imperceptable as the tom. This forest was her own, and the feline seemed to glide through it. She was on her way to the border to retrieve a package. They came infrequently, always delivered under the third pine tree in the clan's territory. She made these trips alone. After Mantisopera had deserted, no cat knew that the leader was in contact with a poison dealer, and she wanted to keep it that way.
As she approached the tree, the leader sighed, glancing at the small box that Salem had clearly stolen from his two-legs. A small bow, also stolen, rested on the top. Her lips twitched slightly at the gesture, before pawing the lid off and gazing down at the two leaves. As was typical, Salem left no instructions as to how to use it. That had been part of the deal: anything she took from him, she would try a small dose on herself.
Here goes nothing, the leader thought as she moved to tear a piece of the leaf off. So engrossed in her package, she was unaware that she was no longer alone.
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
2,314 posts
Post by achromatic on Feb 12, 2022 18:19:46 GMT -5
He was the observer in the night. No, in fact, he was the night, its eyes so omnipresent, its shadowy tendrils stretching long into the night, its grasp inching towards the pale she-cat who stood in the distance. His eyes narrowed, green so sharp in the night as his pace slowed, and he was standing above like a vengeful god on judgement day.
Bermondsey didn't know what she was doing. He could see the box, a couple of leaves under her paws. He had heard, after all, that the leader was becoming more and more erratic. That the battle of SummerClan had truly changed her somehow, shifted her personality to a degree, and that whatever had transpired throughout all of this, between Eshek and her, there were still things he had yet to know.
He knew the forest was empty, and that while she had the advantage of being in familiar territory, he had the advantage of surprise. His eyes scanned the area, as if memorising the landscape, before making a move. It was reckless, of course, to attack a cat so close to the territory they dwell in, and a leader nonetheless, but rage was a motivator, and Bermondsey was the one caught up in it.
Leaping down, he aimed for her back, his eyes trained on the base of her skull where her spine connected, and with a flash of teeth and claws, he was slamming into the pale she-cat, teeth already on the scruff, ready to deliver a killing blow to Aspenstar.
