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!
News & Updates
11.06.2022 The site has been transformed into an archive. Thank you for all the memories here!
Here on Classic we understand that sometimes life can get difficult and we struggle. We may need to receive advice, vent, know that we are not alone in our difficult times, or even just have someone listen to what's going on in our lives. In light of these times, we have created the support threads below that are open to all of our members at any time.
achromatic if i haven't posted the plot thread this comes after to give it context by the time you read this, slap me repeatedly
After the exquisite, outraged carnage of the Clan meeting, Kier had told Moonblight to come to his new den — his wonderful new den; it would have been fun to take over Aspenstar’s, to lie on old scraps of her fur and wring her scent out of it, but it was just unfitting to have such a small throne — and now he was keeping him waiting. Really, he had nothing else he had to do; he was just lingering outside camp, counting the minutes and imagining Moonblight squirming below, marinating in discomfort and impatience and, if he might be so lucky, maybe even a little fear. It made him quiver and grin.
Finally, he sucked in a steadying breath and, feeling like he was going on a first date, descended the tunnel down to the camp. It was just becoming dusk, the air heavy and gloomy and damp with far-off thunder, but down here, it was as cold and stifled as always. He was growing to love it. He found Moonblight waiting, his thick fur littered with fresh scars, and brushed past him from behind, giving him a narrow-eyed little grin as he circled around to settle down on a natural stone throne in front of him, his forepaws crossed casually. “Sorry I’m late, Moonblight,” he greeted him around the grin, making no effort to disguise the tight, giddy triumph in his voice. “Leader things, you know. I expect you’re thankful you’ll never have to pick up that mantle — it’s such a burden.” The word became a purr as he rolled onto his side, stretching his paws out till they quivered and all the while maintaining eye contact with that same, lazily contented grin. Everything had gone perfectly to plan. Moonblight had been separated from Sagebristle and the Loyal Guards who didn't bow manhandled into confinement; kits would be indoctrinated by Snowblister's preaching to be obedient to him, away from the poison of their mothers; plans had been set in motion; and NightClan was terrified. And terror, if revolt was crushed out of them, had only one other avenue: submission.
Now, Moonblight was here. And if he wanted to retain his Loyal Guard title, he was going to have to bow his head and bend his knee. More than that: he was going to have to grovel for forgiveness, just because he wanted to see him beg. And if he didn't, if he wouldn't — well, there were terrible things he could do to the cats he loved. He'd bound Moonblight, constrained him with the threat of violence against the Clan who took him in; his behaviour would reflect on all of them. He half hoped he was willing to be broken, at least on the surface, so easily — but where would the fun in that be? He wanted to see the anger. The dawning realisation there was no way out no matter how hard he wracked his clever little brain, no matter how hard he fought — the knowledge that he was trapped. Moonblight was clever. But so was he. And spite was one hell of a motivator to get every damn detail right, to spend nights pouring over plans until they were flawless to the minutest determinant. Everything Moonblight could think of, he had already blockaded. Kier watched him expectantly, his grin settling into a warm, welcoming smile from where his cheek rested against the stone.
Post by achromatic on Jan 27, 2022 19:26:21 GMT -5
Moonblight, in any other situation, would've nursed his wounds the moment he stepped out of the limelight like a beaten dog, but he was nothing if not his mother's son. He knew nothing of her, but there was a quiet defiance about him that laid in wait. The wounds weren't deep at all, cuts and bruises he had gone in expecting. There was a reason he had been made a loyal guard and it wasn't for lack of skill or a surplus of flattery.
The tom never wore his heart on his sleeve, and gods, he had made enough mistakes in the last moon to haunt him for a lifetime. Perhaps he was naive, to think that Aspenstar would still return, that he still held her favour despite the madness that took root in her eyes like a cordyceps to an insect. It was the moment when he looked into Sagebristle's eyes, those haunted eyes when they had last seen each other, that he realized he had let his guard down too much.
In his flight of fancy, in those dreams where only the two of them were together, he had forgotten about the real world that he lived in. Again, the dark forest that took root in his mind was growing, like a plague within his mind, the pond in which his reflection stared at him had red eyes like rage with madness rooted deep in its shimmering pools, only to flash golden once more in the realization that he wasn't all himself anymore.
"You wouldn't know a real leader if they hit you in the face, but I'm sure you recognize their paws, considering how often you lick them," he spoke with a half-lidded look, fear devoid from his gaze. He'd rather die than sit quietly and do what Kier wanted. If the tom wanted to break him, he'd have to break every bone in his body first.
Kier let out an involuntary bark of laughter. "You'd do well to start licking," he shot back, his voice still a bubble of laughter. "Right now, you and your mate are both on treacherously thin ice." Pushing himself back up, he hopped down from his throne and padded forward to sit down in front of Moonblight. It was becoming addictive to him, being able to get so close to him and knowing he couldn't lash out at him like he had once before, knowing that he had to sit there and clench his muscles and let the conqueror get close, knowing that if he did raise a paw, he would lose the paw. He was a chained hound.
After a long pause, Kier spoke again. "Moonblight, you perplex me. You're such a wondrous thing, aren't you? Completely artificial. What are you behind closed doors? Who are you?" His voice had started out solemn and honest; now it became almost dreamy, his eyes flicking between Moonlight's own as he spoke. "Violent, that's for certain. Oh, yes, you pretend to be so very many things - the dimwit, the sweet boy - but violence is at the core of it all. And still you have such qualms with me. Why? You let Aspenstar mould you into a perfect soldier. You crushed SummerClan because she asked you to, and even when you found out that she'd lied about her intentions, you didn't lift a claw to stop her. To defy her. And still you think you're something honourable, something different. But you aren't." He looked up at him earnestly, eyes wide. "You're a coward, Moonblight. You strut about like you're so very above me and my morals, and then when it's asked of you you terrorise mothers in their home. And even then, you might say 'what morals, Kier?' as if you are any different. You are a weapon that has been passed from owner to owner, and now when I stand here before you, offering you the stability that you seem to so desperately crave, you resist me. Why? Why defile the memory of the one who raised you by insulting the very cat she chose to succeed her? What makes me so terribly different to the tyrant who stood in my place last week - aside from the fact that where she failed, I succeeded?" The last question was ground out viciously, the softness of the rest of his speech suddenly grated to powder.
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
2,314 posts
Post by achromatic on Jan 29, 2022 9:40:24 GMT -5
His lips twisted into an amused smirk, something unbefitting for a captive under a dictator. "Thin ice?" he questioned, eyes flashing, "I thought I was already dead to you. I'm surprised you haven't killed me yet, which means you either have something in store for me, something you think is 'worse' so you can make me an example–" He allowed that word to linger, "–or you want something from me." The fact that Kier hadn't killed him completely perplexed him; he couldn't understand what the motive was for keeping him alive.
Moonblight's expression didn't change as Kier was psychoanalysing him. It was amusing really; Kier knew nothing about him that he didn't already want him to know. He was everything and yet nothing. He was water. He took every shape and every form. He was spontaneous, adaptable, evasive...but that water had frozen into ice.
"You think everything's about you," he spoke, tilting his head, "that all of this is because I want to spite you? Because I hate you individually more than anything else? Is that what you think?" His lips twisted into a simpering smile, as if pitying Kier for how utterly small-minded he was. "How self-obsessed," he laughed, "did mommy not give you enough attention when you were younger?"
Oh he had planned to leave. Even now, he planned to escape the moment he could get out of sight. There were places he could go. NightClan didn't have many allies but there were surely sanctuaries for whistleblowers. He just needed to get Sagebristle out first, and then he'd leave. Never to come back. NightClan didn't matter to him as much anymore. His words about Aspenstar made his lips press together.
"You know nothing about loyalty," he spoke with a sneer, "silly little league tom who found himself sucking up to Aspenstar...you stand for nothing and I doubt you ever have, so what will you die for?"
Wandering back to sit on his throne, Kier just smiled through Moonblight’s lengthy attempts at insulting him, looking like he was enjoying it. “Are you done?” he asked, and there was a purr in his voice. It always tickled him when cats tried to use facts to make him uncomfortable. He knew himself better than anyone, was utterly self-aware — yes, he was self-obsessed and thought everything was about him; yes, his mother’s absence in his upbringing had contributed greatly to how he’d turned out; yes, he had sucked up to Aspenstar for a crown; yes, he stood for nothing. What in there, precisely, was supposed to be hurtful? The way Kier looked at it, he’d done remarkably well for himself; being a grovelling sycophant had worked wonders. He continued to smile. “It really is a shame, Moonblight,” he laughed, a bubbling little sound that shook his shoulders; there was wonder in his voice. “The things you’ll have to endure, I wouldn’t wish them on anyone. If only you’d been a little more the soldier I’d thought Aspenstar had made you into… But you don’t owe her anything, I suppose. She’s gone and her greatest experiment turned out to be such a failure.”
He looked down at his paws, one cheek dimpled like he was dwelling on the sorry state of it all; then, finally, he shrugged one shoulder. “Oh, well.” As he stood and turned away, a guard grabbed Moonblight’s scruff and hauled him backwards, shoving him roughly out of Kier’s private quarters and into the main cavern, the little tyrant’s back turned to them all the while.
a month later
The Kier Moonblight next saw was not the same. He was agitated, bristling with an anger barely contained beneath his skin, his tail constantly twitching, twitching, twitching. His tact was gone; his patience was gone; his amusement was gone. As the former Guard was shoved into his den, Kier didn’t respond, just kept pacing back and forth, back and forth, his steps so quick that he whirled back on himself before he’d bridged half the width of the cave. More blood than ever was caked beneath his claws; since Eris’ miscarriage, he’d grown erratic and volatile.
Moonblight and Sagebristle were still kept apart — and now she’d truly begun to show her pregnancy. Their starvation continued, given the barest bones that ensured they didn’t die but not much else. Sometimes Kier came in to sit with him, a full feast at his paws, and ate what he could, even when he wasn’t hungry, as he chatted cheerfully at the starving tom — well, Moonblight, what a state we find ourselves in! Are you sure you don’t want any?; what he couldn’t eat, he tossed into the dust, so wasteful and cruel and pointedly flippant. And recently, Kier had started to exploit Moonblight’s fears about his mate’s wellbeing, murmuring quiet little threats about what might befall her kits if Moonblight didn’t take up the mantle of interrogating, torturing, executing his own Clanmates, about what fun he might have with Sagebristle if he didn’t bow his head to Kier and call him king, about what might be in Moonblight’s food if he didn’t learn to be a good, obedient soldier. He stood at his shoulder and whispered encouragement in his ear when he faltered before a pleading Clanmate, and the feeling he got low in his stomach, the drunken, dizzy pleasure, when Moonblight gave in and spattered blood on the walls was like nothing he’d ever known before.
But the fun was over. Kier was mad with grief, with rage, and Moonblight had lost his appeal.
“Time’s up, Moonblight,” he snapped, still not looking at the disgraced Guard. Finally, though, he whirled about and closed the distance between them in a rush, like the presence of him was suddenly an insult, like he’d said something to insult him. “You want to save your mate? You want to be useful? Go to the League. Hurt them. Kill Bermondsey — you know who that is? Is there anything between your stupid, ugly ears?” Giving Moonblight a brutal backhand across the temples, he whirled about, back slightly arched and fur prickling along his shoulders. “No—“ He suddenly said. “No, don’t kill Bermondsey — kill his kits.” Laertes had stumbled his way into NightClan; he was safe; he didn’t care about any of the others, about any of his protégé’s sisters; let him cry, let him mourn — he had Kier. “Kill that proxy of his. Kill someone. I want the League uprooted. I want a head on a pike — ten heads on ten pikes.” His voice rose as his hate did. “I want the whole, rotten place crushed into the dust.”
He wanted to do it himself, wanted to creep into Bermondsey’s quarters in the middle of the night and drop poison into his mouth — and maybe he still would, if Moonblight failed his mission. He hated to delegate, hated to trust something so monumental as his revenge to the stupid, untrustworthy paws of Moonblight. But right now, his focus was on his sister locked in a prison cell. Right now, his focus was on hurting her. It was all he could think of. The League’s destruction — it could happen in the background of his blind, vicious torture; maybe he would emerge one day from the prisons to news that the League had crumbled; maybe there would be a war. He didn’t care. He just wanted them ruined — for taking his kits from him, for taking his mate’s mind from him, for leaving him alone and grieving and afraid.
Post by achromatic on Feb 24, 2022 19:28:23 GMT -5
Moonblight didn't know day and night anymore, only an ache in his bones and exhaustion written in the lines on his face. He had resisted all until Sagebristle had gotten hurt, and these days, the only thing he was fixated on was how stupid it was, that they didnt' escape the first night this had happened, when Aspenstar had gone made and made Kier the deputy. He knew Sagebristle was kept things quiet, but surely now even Kier would've noticed that despite eating less, she had grown bigger, her stomach swelling with his kits.
It was his greatest fear, that he would lose all of them at once, and gods, he had been so happy once, to know of a family after all this time dreaming of one. He had been thinking about it since the battle in SummerClan, how he could've just gone. How his sister was alive, how she had been wary of him, but still offered a way home, how things had changed and still never changed. He was so much more innocent those months ago, when they had been giggling in the league's territory, unaware of how dangerous their mission had been, too distracted and starstruck by their newfound love for one another. He could almost laugh.
Moonblight's expression didn't change from the impassive boredom that now sat permanently in his gaze, giving Kier a look, as if asking whether he was done yet. Of course he remembered the name of the warden of the league. That grey cat who looked like he was about to kill the Nemesis that night, with that crazy psycho she-cat next to him, the one who had attacked Aspenstar. The reason why everything had changed. There was a bitterness in his heart, and a deep rage for the cats who had spurned this change of path for NightClan; it was such a small detail but Moonblight always had a suspicion, that whatever had happened between Aspenstar and the league, it had been something serious.
It'd be an easy mission really, to pin his sights to an enemy that was familiar, and he was eager to get out of the camp. There'd be less eyes on him there, after all. Perhaps a successful mission would at least appease Kier enough to let him speak to Sagebristle, to whisper a plan of escape before it was too late.
Without a word, he disappeared from the camp, as silently as a ghost, his amber eyes fixated on the path heading deep into the forest, towards the mountains of the league. He could remember the path into their mansion; this shouldn't be too hard, and at this point, he had little care for his own life, as long as Sagebristle and the kits survived.
