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.
( In an effort to tie up loose ends with our previous plot, we've elected to finish up Wormwood's execution and Crowluminescence's death. In rp, Wormwood has been held captive and interrogated/tortured by the Janus for two moons, and all has returned to normal, for the most part. Crowluminescence is currently alive, and all characters on the page are in their current positions for simplicity's sake. )
The entirety of the clan had been gathered at the Ceremony Springs this day, for a very special occasion. Tense anticipation hung in the air as they sat gathered there, everyone from the Initiates and kits to the Senators waiting for the traitor to be brought before them. It had been two moons now, far too long in the opinion of some, and though time moved on, the wounds still ran deep. Thirteen dead, including a kit, an apprentice, an expectant queen, and a new mother who died of her injuries after saving her clanmate. Such deaths set the clan's hearts blazing with righteous fury for the lost, and there were many within the crowd who desired to sink their claws into the throat of Wormwood, to make him feel all the pain the deceased had suffered at his paws.
It was chilly, a frigid leaffall wind whipping around the evening plain, the sunk sinking lower in the horizon as Foxstar made her way up the rock, stopping at the peak to look down upon the cats of all colors spread below her. Gone were the usual oranges and golds that adorned her fur. Rather, every line had been carefully, skillfully painted over in bloody crimson and shadowy black, giving the cunning Priestess a far darker image in the fading light of day. Gone was the leader who lead them in prayer, who guided them under the name of the sun. Tonight, she was an executioner, set to rid the world of a soul undeserving of the life he'd been given.
He was brought out by the Soothsayers, Dragonswrath and Twilightbell. The former, his student, once upon a time, the latter, his own niece. Two cats that may have once been important to the tom, but now, what were they but his guards and captors? Wormwood was in a particularly sad state nowadays, compared to what he had been. The paint had long since faded from his fur, which was rather unkempt, his frame thin and dull, and the former Soothsayer looked like a rather sad imitation of himself.
As he was lead towards the rock, towards his own death, the voice of the High Priestess rose above the silence that had fallen over the clan, her voice deadly calm, though a raging fire lingered just beneath the even words, fury accentuating each and every word that pierced the air.
"Wormwoodlopadotemachoselachogaleokranioleipsanodrimhypotrimmatosilphioparaomelitokatakechymenokichlepikossyphophattoperisteralektryonoptekephalliokigklopeleiolagoiosiraiobaphetraganopterygon, you have forsaken your duty as SunClan's Soothsayer, and been stripped of your rank for thirteen counts of treasonous acts in the form of murdering your own clanmates. As retribution for Utopianpaw, Nightsiren, Warcraze, Lightningscorch, Fadingstep, Goldenbough, Ashenwisp, Robinkit, Shallowflight, Maplebreeze, Wolkiblizter, Fearfulwhisper, and Gracefuldance who were slain by your paw, your life is forfeit. What have you to say for yourself?"
It was a chance for him to redeem himself in some small way, to express regret for his actions, and though it wouldn't save him from his fate, perhaps the Sun God would be kind and lessen his punishment in the event of genuine remorse. More likely, however, the ivy eyed feline expected Wormwood to only further convince the clan that he was irredeemable, if he even chose to speak at all.
His captors had to support most of his weight as the traitor limped into the camp. He was slumped over toward the grown, snarls of grey fur clinging to prominent bones, his head fallen to the ground as he lacked the energy to hold it up. His gait stumbled as he suffered from the pace his guards had set, like he had transformed to a ancient, brittle tom during his torture. The pleasantly confused, regretful Soothsayer could have easily grown into a old cat like this, and it was difficult to reconcile the pitiful image with his crimes.
Thirteen victims. In truth, there had been fourteen: Wormwood himself. Had the Sun God truly chosen him for Soothsayer, or had that been a trick from the other side? The corruption had not begun to fester until he stepped into the role, but once he had it filled the vacancies with ease. The dark-edged visions of blood and chaos, the clever voice collapsing his mind, he was too easily ensnared. By the time of the first murder, he was possessed by the darkness, subject to its whim; by the second, he was already gone. The vile creature inhabiting him could never be reconciled with the peaceful creature he had once been, because that cat was suppressed long before this day.
They could see his eyes now - fever-bright and consumed by deliriousness, his pupils hate-filled slits as he stared into the falling sun behind the High Priestess, mouth twitching in a sickening grin as he saw the sun, the Sun God, dying before him. He sneered as a rasping cackle rose in his throat and cast a defiant glare over the surrounding cats. "Is that it?" he challenged, scornful. "It took thirteen deaths your precious God to see it was his own precious servant that did the deed--" he tried to laugh again, but it caught in his throat and he stopped to cough instead, spitting blood to the ground. He didn't bother to clean the flecks of crimson from his muzzle as he lifted his head to stare again. His coarse voice rose in volume, twisted in violent hatred. "Thirteen kills, but I would've taken you all. I will see all of you in your deaths!"
He stepped forward ahead of his captors, his lips twisting into a snarl. "Maybe we'll be denmates in death, Foxstar. But you won't last the night."
though we never rped it, which we can do later, im gonna have Broken injured af cause of the knitting plot of evil stuffs)
Her heart was in pure agony. She wanted to scream, but it was caught in her throat. It was overwhelming, making her dizzy, and not just from the blood loss she had sustained in the fight with her mate. She felt like she was splitting in two, one half overwhelmed with hatred for Wormwood, the other half still desperately in love with him. Even after everything, she still couldn't help but love her mate. The dark grey she-cat could see Dragonswrath close to Wormwood, his eyes dark and expression entirely unreadable. She had to wonder if the Soothsayer Promised felt anything for his former mentor. She didn't know much about the tom except that he was forever old. Did he feel the same agony in his soul that was currently destroying her from the inside out? Brokenstride looked back at her mate, sorrow screaming in her agonized expression.
Skipstep's lip curled from where he sat beside Littlebird, the janus glaring at the former soothsayer. The one who'd taken the position after Hazelcascade had left. Skipstep had always known there was something he didn't like about Wormwood, besides him simply taking over for Hazelcascade. It angered him. He'd enjoyed what he'd gotten to do to the bastard, but even now his claws flexed in the ground with a barely restrained lust to stain the ground with Wormwood's blood.
But that was for Foxstar alone as the executioner.
While she had to keep her expression in check, Twilightbell still didn't know what to think. Wormwood was her uncle, the cat she had looked up to as a Janus and their own soothsayer promised, a position that she now held. He was the one responsible for all of the deaths? What was the point of killing their clanmates? What had he gained from it? She knew that the clan would be watching her, checking to see if she shared any traits with her murderous uncle, but in the end, the look she gave him was one of mixed hatred and contempt. He had hurt her clanmates in more ways than one and while he would die today, others would continue to suffer for a long time after, herself included as she tried to fight through her own doubts and to show them that she could be different than him.
She wanted to yell at him, to make him see that the Sun God might have been waiting to see if he would change his ways. She wanted to tell him about everything he'd given up, but she did not speak. She dared not interrupt now that things had officially begun. All she could do was listen and wait for it all to be over.
"You are unduly arrogant even on your death bed." Foxstar admonished, shaking her head ever so slightly as the tom was brought up before her. Without much effort, her paw gripped the traitor's scruff forcing him to the ground in front of her, stomach up. Faintly colored claws pricked his skin, the paralytic immediately beginning to course through Wormwood's body, forcing the tom to give up the use of his limbs. Perhaps he had ideas to take this last moment to kill her, or one of his captors, but today, no chances would be taken. This was no trial, after all. It was an execution.
He was guilty, and as such, would face the punishment laid out for him, regardless of his willingness to participate. Perhaps some would consider the use of poisons, even simple ones such as this, cowardly. But truly, Wormwood deserved it. The former Soothsayer deserved to be humiliated by not even being able to pretend he was able to fight back against the cats he'd tried so hard to kill. "You are a disgrace to your mate, to SunClan, and to the deity who believed in the good that once resided in your soul."
If there was such a time as to appreciate being blind, it was now. Nightshadeintuition and Mountainsound sat side by side, the former staring forward with sightless eyes, his expression cold and stoic, though he felt for his daughter, Twilightbell, and all she'd have to face in the coming moons, the latter cat, more than anything, looked sad and disappointed, her face angled towards the ground. Truly, Mountainsound didn't know what had happened. This wasn't the tom she knew, the kit she'd raised to care about others. What Wormwood was now, was not her son, but a monster wearing his face. Truly, her son had died long before today.
Snapdragoncynosure envied her relatives, sitting where she was beside Ebonygold. She wished to be able to take her eyes off the sight of her deranged brother, dichromatic eyes locked onto her traitorous brother. For once, the she-cat didn't look nearly so feisty. On one paw, she wanted to rescue her brother from his fate, for she knew this wasn't like him, but on the other, she knew well enough to not interfere. Thirteen cats. He'd killed thirteen cats, and would have taken Brokenstride with him if he could. Her tail curled around her brother's mate, having insisted that she sit with them. Whatever Wormwood did, Brokenstride was family, and the warrior understood that the pregnant she-cat still loved him, could see it in her agonized gaze. Her mate had failed her, but his family wouldn't.
Mythospaw, unlike Wormwood's family, wasn't sympathetic in the slightest. After all, Wormwood had killed his brother. There wasn't really much to say beyond that. He was a traitor, and he deserved all the pain and suffering he'd faced in recent moons for Utopianpaw's death.
His maw twisted in anger, but he made no move to attack as she punctured his skin. A numbing feeling swept through him, and he flexed his claws as they started to feel looser and their responses began to slow before his eyes.
Once, he would have cringed at the thought of hurting another; once, he would have cared. But his love for his family and even his mate had bled from him, and there was nothing left inside. In the absence of it all, there was only fear, and that fear ignited into hatred.
-
Thirteen.
His life had been spent healing cats, his mate's as well. He had been a rogue, looking after wounded paws and wounded souls; he'd been a medicine cat, guiding his leader and healing battle-torn warriors. All of that life, all of that goodness . . . how could something so corrupt come from them? Had all those lives been for nothing? Had they all been traded in for this? His golden gaze stared into that of his son, troubled. No. Perhaps this wasn't his fault, perhaps it didn't undo what they hadn't done, but he could feel the weight on his shoulders all the same. A life lost meant so much more than a life saved when it weighed on his conscience, and so many had been taken.
He couldn't justify what his son had done. He couldn't save him. But he couldn't find it in him to hate, either. All he felt was a raw, eviscerating grief.
The she-cat couldn't help but wince as Foxstar spoke about him being a disgrace to Brokenstride. It wasn't untrue, of course, but it hurt all the same. She never thought there would be a day when she would watch Wormwood be executed. She had always thought they would live long lives together, watching their young grow into strong warriors. Now, it was iffy that the kits would even survive after his attack. She had been the one to discover him as the murderer, at least the only one who lived to tell about it.
The she-cat pressed against Snapdragoncynosure, thankful for her support despite the fact that there was no longer anything tying her to the family aside from the unborn kits. Had it not been for the tail wrapped around her, the Senator's urge to run out and defend him may have taken over.
-
Dragonswrath should've felt something. He should've felt disappointment or anger or ever sorrow, but no emotion came to mind. Instead, his expression remained blank, as it had for so long. He was soothsayer now, which wasn't surprising considering how close he was to the sun god. Probably closer than anyone else in the clan, Foxstar included. He watched with quiet concentration, tilting his head ever-so-softly.
If you want to shine like the sun, first you must burn like the sun ~ SunClan High Priestess
6,904 posts
Post by racer on Nov 3, 2018 17:22:53 GMT -5
Littlebird was no stranger to violence, her entire life had been defined by it. From the moment she had been born, it seemed to stalk the path she walked. She had always tried to avoid it when possible, but had learned that violence was an unfortunate necessity of being a leader. As the murderer was thrown to the ground, she kept her eyes firmly on Foxstar. One day, it would be her duty to perform these executions, and she needed to be prepared. She allowed her tail to gently tap Skipsteps shoulder. She could feel his tension, but did not tear her gentle golden gaze from the scene unfolding before them.
At the tap on his shoulder Skipstep forced himself to relax. He shifted his gaze to Littlebird and gave her a quick lick appreciating her help in culling his rage. He was truly grateful, and he thanked the Sun God again for bringing Littlebird to SunClan, and giving him the opportunity to have her by his side. She helped heal what had been hurt when he'd lost Hazelcascade to mysterious circumstances.
Jetclaw sat on the other side of Littlebird, the she cat taking up her typical position beside her sister in law. She cast her glance around looking for Jackalmemory. Her former apprentice had hated Wormwood for what happened to her brother... now with recent events had she been right to be wary of him and hate him? Jetclaw hadn't known Wormwood well, but she felt uncertain when his madness started. OR if he'd just hid it for long enough.
Still she wondered how her former apprentice felt on the matter.
Post by Honeystorm on Nov 17, 2018 16:59:06 GMT -5
It was with cold fury, such that one might've expected frost to develop wherever her paws touched, that Foxstar's paws clawed through Wormwood's skin in ritualistic, utterly brutal strokes. Her gaze rested on his chest, and with a disturbing sort of ease, she slowly exposed the tom's heart. The Priestess had practiced on rogues since deciding on the method of the Soothsayer's death, and it showed in her precision, even as her paws became slippery crimson, and blood soaked into both the tom's fur and ran down the rock. The savage sight was hard to watch, but even so, SunClan watched, entranced by it.
He was still alive, if barely, by the time she reached his heart, lifting her paw a moment as she watched the still bleeding organ between scraps of flesh and bone that hung above it. She'd been careful not to kill him, yet at the same time, he had mere heartbeats before he bled out on his own, and as such, she wasted no time in raising her head, her voice carrying out over the clan with a newfound intensity. "For your crimes against the clan, and against the Sun, I curse you Wormwood, former Soothsayer of SunClan, in the name of our deity."
As she spoke, the massive form of the Sun God appeared beside her, his ethereal form partially see through, like a ghost, his eyes lacking the usual warmth, the expression replaced by a pure, righteous fire. His thick fur, with it's flickering flames, illuminated the area as the Sun fell below the horizon, the light dancing with just contained anger. As Foxstar continued to speak, his voice reverberated in the background, powering the words that she spoke.
"Traitor to SunClan," They said, "You have broken SunClan's code, and betrayed your own clanmates. You have squandered the blessings bestowed upon you, and now you must pay. May your soul never again feel the warmth of the Sun on your fur, and may you suffer for eternity, never able to find peace or rest in the shadows of the Dark Forest that you have chosen as your home."
When silence fell, a ghostly form rose up from the tom's body, though he still breathed, for the moment. His soul separated and disappeared in the span of seconds, leaving Wormwood's still living shell of a body behind, barely clinging on and fading fast. That, however, didn't last long, as both Priestess and deity lifted their paws, striking down and crushing the tom's heart, killing what was left of him instantly.
