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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Brat, less frequently known as Royalkit, had set up shop in the middle of the NightClan camp. Kier had lost it at his daughter at first, shouting at her in front of everyone and trying to usher her back into obscurity, but here she still was. Her stubborn flair would always outlast his patience, and eventually he'd given up, shoulder fur bristling, and stormed off to yell at someone else that he could actually force into line. Now, she smiled from behind the little boulder she'd had one of the Executioners drag into the centre of the cavern - she was an Inferior, beneath them in the hierarchy, but no one quite knew whether being Kier's daughter outweighed her low rank, so they usually complied just to be safe. She'd worked that out very quickly.
"Future, future - wanna know the future?" she crowed to every passerby, stretching out her paw across the boulder to show off her little shards of stone painted crudely with ominous pictures. A velvet cloth brought to her by another frightened, uncertain lackey was laid out across the boulder. "Your future, not just the general future - who'd wanna know that? I got fortunes, I got omens, I got curses, I got death dates, all for the very low price of your soul!" As she cried out the final word, she swept onto her back, draping herself across the boulder and scattering all her wares. "FUTURES! If ya pay me, I can 'ford to eat tonight! I'm just a poor, hungry street urchin."
"You're royalty," someone snapped.
"A poor, hungry street urchin," she repeated melodramatically, back of her paw to her forehead, like she hadn't heard.
Future, future - wanna know the future? Oleanderkit — old enough to drop her old title by now, though the formalities hadn’t been made — immediately pushed through the crowd, her white pelt glowing, radiant, and slightly messy from the violent shoving. She stared at the scrap on the boulder, could see the same features in her as she glimpsed in Kier (still ugly), but her eyes were too shiny to display any real disgust. She tittered for a moment, tail flicking in excitement.
”I want to know my future! Tell me, tell me, tell me!” She all but demanded. “But not the death date. I don’t want to know that. Oh and I don’t have anything to pay you with but come onnnn,” her eyelashes batted innocently.
"Hey!" Brat exclaimed, messily rolling onto her stomach to gape at her, balancing painfully with most of her weight on her chest and the rest of her in thin air or draped across the boulder. "I thought you was gotten by that frog!" Clearly in the presence of someone with the gods on her side, she scrambled backwards and hurriedly picked up her scattered cards. "Okay, okay, okay — come under here." She suddenly picked up a dark purple cloak with little stars embroidered on it out of nowhere and threw it over the two of them, the boulder between them. Hunkered down in the hot darkness, Brat picked up the other kit's paw in her own and whispered, "okay. Open your mind, and think about your greatest wish. In the world. The thing you want the very most. Like me, right now I want some clam chowder. So I think, mmm, I want some of that. Get it?" Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared at Oleanderkit in the pitch black, right pupil dilated to match her left, breathing slightly heavy. "You smell good," she finally whispered again, still not having blinked. The colouring and size difference was like a little recreation of Kier and Snowblister's oath.
She jerked back, paw lifting defensively as if Brat carried every disease imaginable on her. Truthfully, it wasn’t off the table. She settled down, watching her arrange the cards, tilting her head closer. As they moved and settled down once more, Oleander’s paw now held between Brat’s, resisting the urge to pull away, she sat back and thought. What was her greatest wish? She could imagine a scene; the Center stage was hers, everyone was always looking at her, everyone wanted to talk to her and ask about her day and she was too kind to brush them off. But that wasn’t exactly it either. How was she supposed to know what her greatest wish was? Oleanderkit shrugged.
You smell good. She giggled, sat up straighter in pride. “Yes, I know!” She didn’t sneak lavender and rosemary and whatever sweet flowers she could find out of the medicine den for nothing, after all, and certainly one didn’t look as perfect as her without working for it. “You smell like. . .” She squinted, took a sniff of the air, “dirt and rocks. You should work on that.”
"Oh, come now," Brat replied with a frown, a phrase she'd picked up from her father. She let go of her paw and leaned back, the cloak sliding with her and exposing Oleanderkit's fluffy tail. From the outside, they were just two kits sitting in the middle of camp under a velvet blanket. "You must wish for something! Maybe you'd like smaller paws - they're very big." She reached out again and grabbed one of the older kit's, turning it over and feeling it. She frowned deeper. "Weirdly big..."
At her giggle, Brat looked up and a wide smile lit up her face. You smell like... dirt and rocks. She laughed, just happy to be talking to someone who wasn't her sisters or brother. "Yes, I live in a prison!" she replied happily.
“These big paws could squash you!” She rolled her eyes, staring at Brat with utmost offence before directing her gaze to her paws. Maybe they were a little big. She thought again, but nothing came up, only the same image as before.
“I want everybody to like me — and realize how great I am.” She gave a hum of affirmation, tail twitching impatiently now. If she knew future telling would have taken this long she wouldn’t have bothered, especially when her company kept switching between good and bad observations. She was getting mixed signals.
Oleander’s head tilted, and her lip curled with curiosity mixed with distaste. “A prison? Yikes. I think Moonblight is in a prison — I haven’t seen him in a while.” She frowned, but it left quickly.
"They could try!" chirped Brat with cheerful insolence, suddenly hopping from side to side beneath the cloak before seeming to vanish all together and pop up again right beside Oleanderkit, back under the darkness of the cloak. "Boo! Squash me now." I want everyone to like me — and realize how great I am. Brat nodded along, letting out a low hum low in her throat as she listened, like she was really agreeing; she leaned forward and rested her elbow on the boulder, drumming her paw on her cheek in deep thought. "Mmmmm," she agreed. Then suddenly she leapt up and crowed excitedly, "that I can do!"
Shuffling quickly about to the other side of the boulder again, laid out three make-shift stone tarot cards at random, face down, and then reached forward to begin rubbing Oleanderkit's temples with both her forepaws. "Mmmmmmm," she hummed again, eyes closed, once more deep in thought. "Flip over the cards and tell me what you got." She went on massaging her temples.
The more Brat pushed her on with her incessant cheerfulness and slight challenge, Oleander considered actually attempting to squish her, or at least give her a pummeling, but she resisted. She was supposed to look pretty and polite (even though she wasn't), and cats like her didn't waste their time on fools.
That I can do! Past grievances aside, she immediately lit up, eyes widening with excitement and that flick returning to her tail. "Really? Oh, wonderful, that's wonderful!" She cheered, probably louder than she should have.
Staring down at the weird stone things, she squinted in confusion, excitement immediately draining away again. Hesitantly, like they would bite her if she moved too quickly, Oleanderkit flipped over the cards, blinking down at the messy images, "what the hell is this supposed to mean? I don't get this!" She whined, sitting back. "I just want my fortune!"
"How d'ya think ya GET IT?" Brat cried loudly, grabbing the other she-kit's face and pressing it against her own, but she wasn't frustrated - Oleanderkit was just a difficult client; she'd had many of those. If she wanted to take this show on the road, to DayClan and whatever other ones there were, at least 3, she had to have a quick head, nimble paws, and an easy temper. She'd already been chased around the camp by angry cats who'd been scammed, and she'd only made it out without a beating because she'd managed to scramble into a corner of the roof and throw pebbles at them until her dad came and yelled at everyone and cursed her existence. I'm not helping you down from there, he'd told her, neck craned to look at the corner high above, so good luck to you. She didn't mind, though; tough love! Plus she'd just eaten a bunch of bugs until she'd finally hopped down, no harm done.
She let Oleanderkit go and looked down at the stone cards. "Ohh..." she said gravely, and then she ummed and ahhed a little bit, all very concernedly. She turned them this way and that, studying them, nodding her head and leaning her cheek against her paw. "Mm... Oh, this'll be extra." She looked up at her. "Are you sure you don't have anything? You don't wanna miss out on this..."
Oleander pushed her off her face, swatting her paws away, "get off of me, weirdo!" She complained, brushing down her cheek fur until they were in the state they previously were. She hated touchy-feely cats — Leveretkit was very much the same, and he annoyed her too (or, for the most part he did, she found herself almost liking the guy sometimes. Rarely).
Her whiskers twitched in faintly concealed annoyance, "just tell me already! My stars! Wait — extra what?" Brat didn't expect Oleander to pay her, did she? Because she absolutely wouldn't. "Oh, just tell me already."
Brat didn't answer, just kept leaning against her paw and looking down at the cards. Now, slowly, she raised her other paw and made steady grabby hands with it — hand it over, it said, or no fortune. "It's a bad one," she said at last, still looking down at the cards. She lowered her paw and idly reshuffled them. "If you don't know how to deal with it... It ain't gonna be pretty."
Like it didn't bother her at all if Oleanderkit got the money or not, she sighed and went back to studying the cards. Then, as an afterthought, still not looking up, she added in an airy voice, "three pretty rocks should do it."
She growled, slapped a paw to her face in exasperation, "fine! Three stupid rocks. I'll pay you when I get them, I don't have them now!" The bad fortune made her nervous, and the aggravation now doubled with the addition of it. If it was that bad, she would simply ask for a refund, or not pay her at all.
"What do you want with rocks anyway? What's so good about rocks?"
"Then go GET THEM!" Brat snapped back, leaning across her boulder, still under the velvet cloak, and glaring Oleanderkit down. Her temper had finally snapped; this client was the WORST she had ever had, and she had had a LOT of bad ones. "I don't work for free. Rocks are cool, and I can trade 'em, and I can make new cards with them. No rocks," she began to sweep her cards together and put them back into her little leather purse, "no fortune. No fortune, no warning. No warning," she looked up at her, "NO OLEANDERKIT."
She seemed so genuinely taken aback by Brat's violence, face falling into a wide-eyed, slightly open-mouthed, shocked look. "WHAT?" She yelled back, just to say something. Her wits returned shortly after, and Oleanderkit returned the glare.
"What if I don't want to?" She supposed she would get no fortune then, and the thought made her uneasy due to Brat's previous reaction. She sighed and turned away, prowling out into the openness of Nightclan's camp and scrounging the ground for the smallest pebble she could find before returning, dropping it in front of the boulder.
"Is that good enough?" Her words were snarky, bored almost, and she brought a paw up to her eyes, flexing the claws that were no longer as small as they once were.
Brat perked up as soon as Oleanderkit brought the rock back. Taking it from her outstretched paw with wide, happy eyes, she bit the edge of it to test its authenticity, gnawing for a few moments on the rock. Then, satisfied, she lowered her paw, smiled at Oleanderkit — and suddenly yanked the cloak down over the older she-kit's head. "PLEASURE DOING BUSINESS," she hollered with a cackling laugh, hurriedly gathering up her strewn cards and pebbles and satchel and scrambling away, leaving an Oleanderkit-shaped velvet cloak in the middle of camp.
She ran into one of the tunnels branching off the main cavern and kept running, her satchel whipping in the air behind her and various rocks scattering on the stone floor. She panted as she ran, round corner after corner, deep into the NightClan tunnels, smiling wildly. Her con had gone off without a hitch, and now she was one pebble richer - if it hadn't fallen out while she was fleeing.
Pleasantly surprised when the pebble was taken from her paw, Oleanderkit watched with a lidded, smug look at Brat examined it, chewing on it like a teething kit. Suddenly her world went dark, and she felt entirely encased, like the shadows had suddenly swallowed her. Oh. Oh-hohohoho. She just got scammed. Tearing the cloak off quick enough to see the end of Brat's tail, she struggled for a moment, tripping over the fabric, before setting off after her, yelling profanities and threats.
"Get back here!" She followed her down the hall, looking wildly left and right before choosing a tunnel at random, slowing her pace into a tired trot. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Her voice echoed, "you've got a fortune to tell me and I'm not leaving until I get it."
As soon as she realised she was being chased, Brat's face lit up and she began to laugh wildly, tearing through the tunnels. The only thing better than a con was a con that turned into a tavern brawl. Suddenly, she snapped to the side, breaking her own forward momentum, and ducked into a cleft in the stone wall, panting quietly and deeply with a big, silent grin on her face as she squeezed and backed her way further into the stone, looking for Oleanderkit with her mismatched pupils. Her fur prickled; she'd never been so purely adrenalised.
And then, as she continued to back blindly into the tunnel that ran parallel with the one she'd just left, she bumped into something warm and fluffy.
Oleander didn't notice Brat until it was too late, the lump in front of her making her trip, falling forwards and over it, legs flailing. She kicked herself up, screamed, and then cut herself off, finally catching a glimpse of what she tripped over. A long laugh escaped her lips.
"Well, well, well! What do we have here!" She leaned down to the kit's height. "The stuff. Hand it over. Or I'm afraid you aren't going to like happens next."
Brat leaned back against the stone floor, away from Oleanderkit, a big, nervous, appeasing grin on her face like she was trying to calm down a circus lion in a cage when her chair had been swept aside. "A tea party?" she asked, head pressed back against the floor and chin tucked into her throat, as far away from Oleanderkit as she could get. Her forepaws drummed against each other hopefully, the smile still on her face.
"ARE YOU STUPID?" She yelled, taking a menacing step closer. A few pebbles fell from the ceiling. "I want my fortune! Give me my fortune! I got your stupid pebble and now I want my fortune!" Oleander stomped, turning in very angry, frantic circles. There was a whine to her voice. "You aren't acting fair."
