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 Honeystorm on Jan 27, 2019 14:34:47 GMT -5
The young Sentinel trotted through the tunnels, rattling off senseless words into the musty air, talking to a ghost of an image of his mother, beaten and bloody, telling her about the parties and the games, how proud she'd be of Gardenia, how he'd bring her back one day. None of it made sense, as if the gray and ebony tomcat had lost his mind. Perhaps he had. He'd been up consecutively for eleven full days now, refusing to see the Guiders and get something to sleep, avoiding his duties and making off to the city to throw wild parties that more often than not got the participants killed. Cats always seemed to show up though, drawn by the scent of blood and the rush of adrenaline.
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POSTEDJan 28, 2019 22:11:08 GMT -5 TO renegade regime
"I truly do not appreciate being forced into hunting cats down," came the voice of a feline behind him. It was rather flat and lame, but that was because the large black-brown she-cat had yet to learn just how to survive as the Chaman. She didn't have the warm demeanor of a cat meant to heal an entire group. She was unsure she ever would. "I suppose, though, after all the trouble you've been to find, your intention was that you'd always evade my company. Rather rude, if you ask me." The witch's tail flicked back and forth. There was a part of her that was afraid that he would run, and frankly, she wasn't in the mood for a chase if he did. Hopefully, he'd just accept his time was up.
"Never asked you to come after me, did I?" The broken tom's voice was light and lilting, but his crazed gaze held a dangerous light, bloodshot and on the edge. This always happened when he didn't get enough sleep. As the days wore on, Noceur degraded, becoming ever more volatile and violent, sane mask slipping into deranged hysteria in his effort to stay awake. Generally, cats didn't notice or care, for Noceur knew how to keep up appearances, a party animal, but loyal nonetheless, or so it seemed. "So feel free to turn around and walk away. You're being rude by interrupting our conversation." And on the babbling went to San's gruesome visage entirely dismissive of the Chaman as he made a move to step past her and continue on his way.
