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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Quiet, thin and sickly, this cat was brought in to springclan by nothing short of a miracle. His thin figure is draped in a white coat splotched with grey, light here, dark there. Isolated from the other cats due to being so sickly he has yet to bond with those around him, prefering the peace and quiet of the medicine or elders den. Growing up was almost harder than just surviving past kittenhood, as fitting in and trying to learn to fight and hunt were near impossible. His large eyes tell a story that you may never hear him speak aloud, but catch him in a good mood and you may entice it out of him.
The youngest in a scraggly group of kits found in uncharted territory outside of springclan by a caring queen, its astounding how this tom managed to get to his size. Large and muscular, his tabby splotched pelt is stretched tight over his frame. Every movement he makes is filled with power, and he shows that he knows it in his light green eyes. Not unaware of his size, but not aggressive about it, he uses it to defend his clan, being an avid fighter, he made it through his apprenticeship with little issue. He bears a scar on his shoulder from a fall he took while hunting, a tree branch slicing it open, but it doesnt inhibit him any, and since hes gotten better while after prey.
Post by ComplacentDevil on Nov 12, 2018 18:20:38 GMT -5
SUMMERCLAN
Wraith
Clan: Summerclan Rank: Warrior Gender: Tom Age: 24 Moons Sexuality: - Mate/Crush: - Alignment: Neutral Parents: None Siblings: None Kits: Father to Juniperwaters' Kits
Bio
A prior loner, this tom is barely seen in the camp, always ghosting around the territory lines. His black coat blends him into the shadows of the territory but normally his clanmates can pick him out by the appearance of his gleaming yellow eyes and the shimmer of the scars across his nose. His steps are silent, making him a well to do hunter, however he is lazy, preferring to sun himself and wander, be it by his feet or his mind. He is uninterested in clan happenings and enjoys the silence but is not unwelcoming to some company if the time and place is right, and has many a story to tell if he can be held in conversation for long.
Borne to a mother and father who didnt even know eachother, but happened to be in the right place at the right time for this to happen. Galaxytear grew up gentle, soft. But with a mean streak like no other. She follows her siblings happenings, Angelpassion, Desertlegs, Ghostchasm, not out of actual interest, but rather just to keep tabs on what they're doing. She finds it strange that even though he family doesn't make attempts to tie themselves to eachother that they all happen to be in the same places at the same time. Its bizarre to her, but she'd never be the first to bother them about it. She wears a pretty silver coat, with deep silver linings throughout that seem to reflect themselves in her deep green eyes. In those eyes are where pools of her upbringing are, her soft interior that only a few may get to see.
A lover at heart, this tom is the odd one out of his siblings. Without knowing much of his mother aside from that soon after birth she had became terribly ill and died, he clings to the life he had with his siblings, Blackbriar, Ashfire, and Emberbrand before that time. While they all seemed to grow cynical and judgmental or even righteous, he stayed down to earth, akin to his name. He is the smallest of his siblings, and was thin and gangly as an apprentice. Eventually he shaped up to where he stands as a warrior now, lean and muscular, but taller than your normal cat. Growing up in Summerclan was easy for him, being borne close to the end of leaf-bare. By the time he became an apprentice the plants had begun to sprout and his plain, brown tabby coat aided him in hiding and catching prey. Although he is a lover, peaceful at heart, he does hide a trickster side behind his emerald green eyes.
Tiny, teeny teeny tiny, is how this cat started out. Even his parents were in disbelief that out of all five kits that they had had, this was their boy. Being the visual outcast of his siblings didnt help him at all while growing up either. Having grown up around four sisters, all bigger than him, Patchlight, Speckledfrog, Spottedjay, Dapplecrown, he had a skewed idea of what the world was like. He didnt grow up to be the big and burly, fight ready warrior that you would normally see. He did grow up to be big, more tall than anything else, with gangly legs that only accentuated the off-ness of his being. But he instead took after memorizing the layout of the territory, making him an expert at knowing exactly who was where, what prey came through at certain spots, or even times of day. He could run laps around his clan mates, his sisters included. With bright blue eyes, although he took a serious mindset as a kit, he hides humour there, always able to find something good from the bad. His pelt is a mottled mix, akin to his siblings, of black and white, a call back to how he has changed from how he was growing up to after he found his place among his clan mates. It wasnt until being an apprentice that he could even consider his birthclan his home, after all.
One of eight. His ragtag family found after their parents were murdered on Summerclan territory. Gathered into the clan at the age of an apprentice he was quickly given a clan name, along with his siblings. He took quickly to it, loving that he was destined to be Sabrestumble. He watched over his siblings, being as large as he was, making sure that Braidwood, Nightgate, Silverblood,Moorside, Windpeak Giantsleep and Frozenheart were all going to be warriors along with him. He was a playful kit with his parents, happy and always up for a game of moss ball or play fighting, but after joining the clan he began to be serious, focusing on fighting so he would never run into the same sort of issues his parents ran into, leaving behind the next generation for them to fend for themselves. Starting large he only grew bigger, conditioning himself as the perfect guardian. Although plain, a white underside and paws the only thing breaking up his deep brown tabby coat, he makes a statement with his fur tipped ears and bright amber eyes, as well as a thick coat that doesnt seem to quite fit in with those around him. Although intimidating he does have a friendly side, but as a warrior Sabrestumble has taken to being a serious cat, unlike his naive kithood.
Whispers seem to follow this cat around like a bad smell. No one knows where he came from. Just that one day he waltzed into camp like he knew it by heart. The winds themselves must have carried him here, the secrets of winter and the white cats painted on the leaves that swirled past him as he made his way to this home. His home. A pretty pelt of rich brown, not a scratch about him makes others wonder. He must have been a kittypet at some point. However, like his father he carries a trademark, his claim to winterclan blood. White speckles have begun to climb up his paws. Like spackle they threaten to overtake his pelt. When he arrived he was well fed, muscled and defined, battle ready with no training experience, but none needed. He's since kept it up, warranting him bewildered looks from his new clan mates. Through famine or feast he stays the same. His eyes are a deep shade of green, often looking about, just surveying the daily lives of the other cats. He stays social, but far enough away from others where he can keep tabs without making too many pacts. Like his father he has a devil may care attitude, bewildered by others anger. He prefers discussions, having the same silver tongue as those before him, but is not afraid of calming a rowdy group by force. There is little fear from this tom, and he hopes to make his time peaceful.
With eyes of the palest blue, it seemed that even as a kit Sharpsleet was able to look into the souls of those around him. Being found with his siblings by the jarl, there were rumours of where they came from, and for him in particular, if he could even see where he had been brought. Grown, as a loyal member of his clan, he has trained to fight and defend his siblings, both blood and adopted. His prickly grey coat hides well defined muscles, a small patch of white present on his chest. When at gatherings he puffs himself up with pride, knowing that he was brought to Winterclan to serve a better purpose, and serve he will, fighting and frightening off invaders who threaten his home.
A wanderer. This tom took after his mother. A passerby his father fell for, he and his siblings claim to only half of their winterclan blood, he in particular shuns it though, preferring to wander the outskirts of the territories, watching the cats of other ideals, gathering knowledge and curios from far and wide. Bearing a thick dark grey coat, slicked back against his muscular body, he can be recalled by members of the groups around him. His eyes are piercing, blue as a breaking snowy sky. He laughs heartily, thinking most seriously with a touch of humour, though few get to see that side of him, as is clan mates know of his exploratory habits and his disdain for the contents of his blood.
He grieved for a world he never knew and grasped for memories like they were air. He’s the biggest kitten in the nursery and yet everyone calls him a newborn. The way people look at him, their begging eyes for him to not see through him. As if he could see through their lies like glass and he could. The way people avoid his stare, the inconsistent stories of his life with as many holes as a ragged flea bitten pelt. It’s never the lack of memories that hurt, but rather the loneliness that came with it. The way he stares at the faces of cats with a starvation, a lust to remember because there’s a spark he feels with every cat he sees. They ignite a memory that’s out of grasp and as he grows older he forgets more and more. That feeling of an existential answer behind the meaning of his life, constantly out of reach, drowning from being left in the dark. The cats around him know something about him, know he isn’t Bronzescars, know who his real mom is. He is the son of Mistyveil, the only rejected kit to ever be forsaken from her litter. Few know his real story, but those who do can’t help, but stare. He lives in a lie to save him from becoming like his sister Icecream, a sacrifice. Bronzescars is a silvery grey tom with bronze streaks crackling throughout his pelt giving him the appearance of having many scars. In leafbare these bronze markings nearly all disappear, but in the warmer moons his pelt is less heavy and long and these bronze markings can be seen. He has genetically rare turquoise blue eyes that very few cats in the clan possess.
Swift by foot and tongue, Reedtwist found his way into moonclan not unlike others before him. He doesn't speak of his past much, not entirely sure of it all himself, but happily began his future in the light of the moon. If one were to see him in the light of day he appears to have a chocolate shine about him, but in the darkness he is invisible, his wispy green eyes and small white toe tips being the only things shimmering in the night. Invisible as well, or at least to most, the tom does have a slight limp in his back leg, not inhibiting his abilities, but causing his gait to be slightly off center. Because of this he rarely goes out among others when the moon is fully swollen, hiding away to muse about future plans in his nest, or gathering to share tongues with clanmates while his lame leg is tucked under him. As a talker he is reserved, but does enjoy the company of others. He prefers to make a few close friends and many acquaintances, but not too many where his secrets are no longer able to be called secrets. For those special few though, he is comfortable to share his story with.
Drive personified, Stag--- was constantly pushed by his father to be the best warrior he possibly could. One of the three remaining kits borne from Stormwind and Quietstep. He takes after his father quite a bit. As a kit he would often challenge his brother Barkkit to sparring matches, and antagonize his sister Snowkit, especially after his mother and father got into a spat where Stormwind removed himself from Quietstep and Snowflower. He too removed himself from his mother and sister upon becoming an apprentice, preferring to go out with Stormwind and continue to train. He grew lean, but muscular, his claws sharp and his steps heavy and proud. His pelt, a light grey, hides little for the imagination, clinging tightly to his sleek body, and increasingly covered with scars through matches between he, his father and his brother. As well as anyone else who would participate, willing or non. With eyes to match, he doesn’t necessarily have a mean streak in them, but definitely shows his intents in their dark grey depths. One day he hopes to follow in his father’s pawsteps as a lunar guard, and throughout his life as a young warrior he has never shown interest in ever settling down. However this doesn’t mean his mind couldn’t be changed, as even as standoffish as he is, he doesn’t despise company.
Coming out of a pair of roguish parents, its no surprise that the family that bore seasmoke was not like a normal family. Even though there were four kits, they broke into twos, seasmoke and shadekit taking one half, while specklekit and twilightsong took another. the children of Scarletshadow and Silverwing, they each received a rogue name to remember their past by, seasmokes' being Maegor. He never goes by it though, not wanting to seem as if he dislikes his home clan, but sometimes if taken off guard he'll still react to it. Instead he uses his clan name, which was given to him based on his foamy aqua eyes, and stony grey and white pelt, as if a rocky shore covered in sea foam. He and Shadekit always end up fighting, and unfortunately enough for his brother, Seasmoke is a cheater, through and through. Confident and able, he could be a strong warrior in his own right, but prefers to rely on trickery and adopts a guise of nonchalance to protect himself from emotional hurt. He is protective of his younger siblings and does his best to set up his tricks and traps so that he is always prepared to defend them if they get into trouble. Even though he argues often with Shadekit, they also understand each other and their shared sense of humor.
The median of his siblings: Aislinn, Ridge, Winter and Nia. The child of Rimanetta and Elian, a rogue. Not the largest, but not the smallest. Not the loudest and not the quietest. This cat grew up in the middle, mostly rejected by his mother and grandmother since he really never had any issues while growing up. He matured slow, taking no interest in mollies, but fast enough so that he knew not to fling himself off a cliff or climb too high off a tree. He shirked from confrontation, only battling when need be as a trainee. He became a hunter with no issue though, although motivation was lacking. However he trained in his free time in order to fight, as he grew up he realized that he needed an edge to get up in life, and that was his outlet. Not alike other cats of his clan, he bears a golden coat, light and sleek, with eyes of a deep blue and copper mix to match. He sticks out as a sore thumb, pretty and muscular, but sleek, although he detests the touch of other cats. However he may allow one to get close eventually...
Death is simple. You breathe your last breath, you close your eyes, your heart stops pumping, and you die. Life on the other hand is complex. Twists and turns are aplenty but they all lead down the road to death. With the joys of fortune and the lows of suffering, this feline is found to be the one pulling the strings. Stocky in build, this tom resembles a dark grey thunder cloud. He is loud, with a booming voice and step, carrying an expression that matches what his followers and fellow gods would construe as anger. However like an angry thunder cloud, although destruction and misfortune may occur in his presence and when he is called upon, life flourishes behind. Suffering that he causes those who are blessed by his name are to grow stronger than any other. Those who are blessed by his fellows would call this purposeful infliction of pain abuse, however there is a silver sliver of caring in his ghastly green eyes, one that only his followers may know. He believes strife with no purpose is careless and hateful, and does not wish to be this sort of deity, although the others around him may think him that way. Like life, he is more complex than most would like to admit unless they have experienced him themselves.