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.
The medicine cat and leader of DayClan where in a taxi. The door had been open when it was idling by camp and spewing fumes into the fresh gas-leak free summer air and they’d just hopped in, and now they were being driven to KFC. “You know the only place I’m more attracted to you than in camp?” Rosy asked, smiling at Peachstar with casual friendliness. “In the back of a taxi, apparently.” He laughed. “Can you believe it?”
Peachstar was, as usual, feeling pretty out of it. One might assume he was on some pretty hardcore catmint-adjacent substance if not for the fact that none of this was a gas leak-induced hallucination at all and they were actually going to KFC irl, and it wasn't even weird or nonsensical or rule-breaking or anything. "I get carsickness," he told Rosy, "so if I tell you I'm think I'm going to throw up, it's not because of you. Unless you do something that makes me--ohh, your crush on me. Ohh, how it reminds me of Thane. No, I really feel sick now." But now was no time to throw up, because the golden arches were coming up on their left! And a few blocks down was the KFC! "Rosyclementine, do you know if they're still doing the Hot 'N Spicy deal? It's the only thing that numbs my pain."
“If it makes you feel any better,” Rosy told him happily, his voice chipper, “you can totally call me Thane. I don’t mind. Didn’t he have one eye or something? I can totally gouge my eye out too to add to the effect!” Then he laughed. “Or maybe I’m just getting confused. It’s hard to keep track of who has all their limbs and eyes in this place.” Absently, he patted Peachstar’s back and hummed, looking out the window as his leader grew sicker and sicker. “Hmmm, Hot ‘N Spicy? You’re the only hot and spicy I see.”
Suddenly the car lurched to the stop. “ALRIGHT, EVERYBODY OUT,” the taxi driver roared, whipping around in his seat. “THAT GOES FOR YOU TWO SICKOS TOO. SICK FREAKS. POSING AS CATS. GET OUT.” He threw them out of the car.
“But we didn’t pay!” Rosy cried back at him, but the car was already speeding away, leaving them stranded.
"That's such a..." Peachstar closed his eyes. "....FANTASTIC IDEA." How had the thought never occured to him to simply pretend someone else was Thane? This was amazing! This would solve all his emotional problems instantaneously! Boy, if he had any clue who'd come up with the idea, he'd have to give them a medal or something. But he had no idea who it was, because the only other cat he could see in near proximity was Thane sitting next to him. He tuned back into what was happening in reality as him and Thane were thrown out of the taxi.
Peachstar hissed and rubbed his feline head with a feline paw. "What a headcase," he muttered, watching as the taxi zoomed off at a hundred mile an hour with a cartoonish squeal. "Thane, I don't feel like walking all the way to KFC. Can you give me a piggyback ride there?" Pretty please?" He gave Thane big uwu eyes.
‘Wow!’ Rosy exclaimed internally. ‘This was a great idea!’ Peachstar was totally different now — he seemed years younger, no longer a world-weary leader but a cutesy widdle bwat. But in real life, he put on a gruff voice and a glare, because even though he wasn’t even born yet when Thane was still around, somehow he sensed on the waves of the universe what Peachstar’s mate had been like. He made a mental note to roll around in an alley at some point and darken his pelt, maybe draw on some bengal rosettes.
“Sure, hop on,” Rosy replied, sounding like he smoked 16 packs a day from how he was lowering his voice and making it all gravelly. You know Marge Simpson’s sisters, that’s what he sounded like. He lumbered into KFC.
"Ooh," said Peachstar, "this place looks just the same as ever!" There were several leaks in the ceiling that were being collected into steel drums labelled CORROSIVE -- DO NOT TOUCH, and flies buzzed around a decomposing corpse in the corner. The cashier stared at them with hollow eyes, unblinking. "Thane, can you order for me? I'm too scared~ I'm too scared to order for myself at KFC because I'm baby~ I'm too scared to tell them if they get my order wrong~ Thane you're so big and strong you do it for me pretty please~ I want a regular Wicked Lunch with Fanta~"
‘Wow, this place sucks!’ thought Rosy with a smile, looking around as he carried PEACHSTAR in. ‘Rotting body and everything! What a dump!’ “Sure thing, baby,” he answered in his Thane voice, swaggering up to the counter. “You just take a seat.” The second he got to the counter, he leaped up and grabbed the shirt of the teenage freak in his claws, hauling him forward and ready to pummel him. “Listen up, pimply,” he growled. “My cute blond-redhead boyfriend who is NOT,” he tore him closer, “greying wants a REGULAR WICKED LUNCH with an ORANGE FANTA.” He shook him, getting into his role. “Make it quick, UGLY.”
He turned and stomped away, not noticing as the cashier’s head fell from his body and thumped across the floor. Lights flickered.
