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.
Both tormentor and protector he was given a purpose at the young age under the rule of a delusional queen. Tasked with protecting his sickly brother and serving the cat that had a heavy hand in raising him with his whole life. He developed a fanatical devotion to her, and tolerated no one elses direction or attention. He resented the attention his brother got from her and was often manipulated into letting that resentment fester and dig itself deeper within him simply for the she-cats amusement. From the beginning of his story Manicmadness was in a sense doomed to be the twisted amalgamation of what others machinations made him. A creature of spite perched on a throne of bone. When his evil queen was overthrown he thought nothing other than following her, protecting her from their pursuers, even at the cost of his own health and sanity. Leading them on wild chases to give her time to escape and then going to the arranged meeting place bleeding and heavily injured to find no sign of her. To learn the central figure his life had revolved around since kithood, the cat he had devoted himself to, had forgotten him in mere moments and left him for dead. He spent days waiting, hoping for some sign they would show up for what was he without them? They never returned and he did the only other thing he knew how to. He raged, he mercilessly killed all those he came across and went into a downward spiral of ever growing madness. Speaking to the plants, yelling to the sky, burying himself in shallow graves with his head sticking out in hopes of dying. The anger only ever seeming to grow larger and his behavior more erratic as time lengthened. Until the moment he wandered into a road and was struck by a car, the months following passed in a blur Manicmadness's time passing in a haze due to the painkillers and upheaval of his life. By the time things seemed to snap back into focus he had been firmly within the grasping hands of twolegs for longer than he could keep track of. His recovery having been long and lulling him into laziness. Sitting on the cold concrete things seemed to fall into perfect clarity, his life so far becoming a story he could pick apart and see where he had went wrong. From that moment on he became the vicious and cruel self-confident cat he had been in his heydays. Escaping soon after and taking a few admirers with him; setting out to find out what had happened to his sickly brother Hystericpague. Manicmadness's background has shaped him into a prickly and often unpleasant cat to keep in ones company. Dour and vocal about any little thing that upsets him. Mercurial moods often making him dangerous to start conversation with and having others scurrying from his path. His grin is unnatural and his yellow eyes unsettling.
Recklessness grows worse the luckier one is, for what care does a favorite of lady luck have for consequences. What have they learned if they are always lucky enough to escape the worst. Further compounded by a devil may care attitude, a callous regard for their own health and too much glee taken in others pain. Twistedhumor is a tom who doesn't care if others are cruel to him, a skin thicker than a cows hide. He cares much more if his own words are enough to cut others, will push and push until he can see others bleed. Until he can drive them into a blind rage that has a chesire grin stretching across his own features in pleasure. A patchy furred black tom with spots of white that do eerie things for his yellow eyes he is a alien like figure. Though perhaps that was meant to be, to warn others of his twisted inner nature. If his name alone wasn't enough to serve as a warning for others to be on their guard around him. He aspires to nothing and wants everything, greedy and obsessive he is unsettling at the worst of times and different at the best of times. For those he cares for he tries his best to let go of his less flattering qualities but it is hard at times to tap down the cruelest of tendencies. But this does not mean he has no redeeming qualities. For those he loves he will do anything, will send his own soul to hell to save those he cares for. And sometimes his humor isn't all doom and bloom and is instead witty and light when the tom is feeling particularly optimistic. Perhaps this just makes him more difficult to handle as one might never know what they will get with Twistedhumor.
"Selfish— a judgment readily passed by those who have never tested their own power of sacrifice."
R E L A T I O N S H I P S
MADRABBIT @skelly } info
IVORYZENITH @strawberrycupid } info
T H R E A D S
BI O G R A P H Y
What are wings when their feathers are plucked off by the eager wicked children of fate. They are nothing more than useless ornaments that weight down those who could once fly, reminders towards the cruelty of a world they were born into. A world where escape was never an option that they were graced with. Dreams carried on lofty wings left to be buried by the tumbling waste of broken promises and lost chances. Fields with flowers as far as the eye could see, nurtured under a bright sky of possibilities, buried under desserts of death and bone. Where homes are things built within skeletons and loyalties are won with blood. There is no softness in this place brought by broken tattered wings. No remembrance towards the days of bright open skies and soft fields of flowers. Remembering those days would only bring weakness and fragility into a place that can no longer support such failings. A place where one will gnaw off their own leg to escape any further shackles. A place inhabited by Elegant-terror. A duchess who once ruled with brilliant wings that carried wondrous dreams for an even brighter future. Now a ruler of none, barley in control of her own fate tugged as she is in separate directions. Only herself does she serve now, others left out to hang if there is no value to be found within them. For what use is it to associate with those who will only scorn her later. All former charm has been squeezed from her, leaving only a stern and severe she-cat with eyes like chips of rock for all they express. Nervous aggression seems to plague here torn between two avenues of possible action. Rippling along her pelt and leaving her in a constant state of unease, covered by the front of a voluble warrior untouchable by those who wish her harm. This inborn cruelty and mercilessness is a disease that has fully settled itself within her, having worked itself into place around her heart. Never hindered by potential ignorance towards others situations or intentions. Elegant-terror will rip apart any that approaches unless they have proven to be worth something to her in that moment. At times she grows distant, as if not all there within herself. In these times she can be fleetingly kind, gentle, and and friendly. Open to caring about others for these brief moments where she seems overtaken by some other cat the might still exist within herself. These fleeting episodes are made all the more painful when her crueler personality surfaces right after. Often bringing others to thing they hallucinated their whole peaceful interaction with her. For Elegant-terror lives up to her name, and to not find difficulty interacting with her is a strange thing indeed.
father of : mythbreaker, fabledruins, legendarydemise, lorespeaker
mate : empress
relationships :
biography
They whisper, in their fairytales, in their legends, in their tales as old as time; that there is a happy ending to be found for everyone. Find the right friends, explore the world, discover new possibilities and you shall find your happy ending. Or, in a far more simple solution, simply find the one you love and they will bring with them your happy ending. At-least that's how it always seems to go in the stories. Even cats like himself, cats whose past follows them because of their bloody steps are promised a redemption. It matters little if ones whole life has been spent dealing out death in increasingly creative ways for that is all they know how to do. It will be solved by the power of love and a pretty things smile. So when he first fell for anothers brilliant smile that seemed to light up even the darkest parts of himself he thought she was his happy ending. So besotted he was with her, the whole tale was in black and white. A queen without a kingdom and a knight willing to gift her one if only allowed to spend the rest of hist life by her side. When the time came for them to run away together, for them to finally reach the end of their story and move onto their 'happily ever after' he was completely blindsided to find her nowhere to be found. But it was a small hardship, surely she was just testing his devotion, and he would not fail her. His own personal health fell to the wayside as he searched for his happy ended, following whispers and rumors of her passing. Until he was pointed towards the wilds, where she was said to have fled from her twolegs heavily pregnant with their kits. And so, devoted to his love as he was, he followed in her path. Chasing a light that he could never quite catch, always just out of his grasp. Finally the news of new life came to him and his mates sickly decline came to him through an older she-cat who had helped his queen with the birth. Words of worry spoken to his frantic heartbeat, and words of caution of her mind thrown as his retreating steps. It was not a happy ending that he found when he finally came upon her but instead the beginning of a tragedy. For there was no life to be found within Empress, the she-cat he had abandoned his life, his health, and everything he knew for. Nor were there four kits to be found with her, though the old she-cat who had helped birth them named all four of them to him as they had been dictated by Empress. For days he lingered by her cold body, finding no warmth for his own shaking frame until he could no longer deny his need to move on once more. He buried her in the middle of the night, fighting against frozen ground and went to find their children. The continuation of their stories, no longer expected a happy ending or an ending at all. Nightmares were everlasting after all and surely his life could no longer be anything but. Coming upon the clan lands he feared for his kits lives, flinching at any news rather good or bad. For what use would he be to them in the end? But still he searched until he reached Fallclan, where they had followed home the clans deputy. He lingered there, on the border, for days until he no longer could deny his desire to see. To see the life Empress had spent her last moons nurturing. His new name, his new identity came easy to hum, for what would his life in Fallclan be other than a suspended illusion. He sold himself as a healer, using his knowledge of dangerous herbs to his advantage. As if his paws had ever nurtured any for of life, as if he was not dripping red from the crevices of his black broken soul. Nothing but a charlatan pandering an image for a small chance to inhabit a corner of his kits lives. For a chance to be involved in their growth while staying out of the way of their futures. He would never have his happy ending, but he would kill any who threatened his childrens. Would protect their innocence and futures with a greediness of a glutton. And if that meant delivering kits, healing cranky apprentices, and weathering every hardship thrown at him then he would rise to the challenge. He would fake what he didn't know and thrive in what he did know. Placid as a puddle on a still day to those around him his eyes are shrewd and his claws sharp. There is something dangerous about Suspendedillusion, found within his feverous dedication to fallclan for reasons unknown to those around him. Seen within his movements that were more comparable to a mountain lion on the prowl than his soft spoken demeanor spoke of.
sister of legendarydemise, mythbreaker, & lorespeaker
kitten of fallclan
bio
Let them come, let them try and best me for I will fall to none. I was born among giants, raised with legends, told tales of greatness from the moment I could open my eyes. There are none that could raise a challenge I would not accept. Words she tells herself in the dark when the shifting shadows cause her to pull closer towards her siblings. Words she whispers as she feels the desire to flee strike her heart and has to dig her claws into the earth to keep from bolting like a scared rabbit. Nothing scares her she'll boast with a bloated chest and highly held head. Even as her bright vivid golden eyes flash from side to side, as if searching for something that would prove her wrong. Her heritage is a mystery to her, something lost in the past. Distant wisps of memories of a brilliantly white ghost for a mother. Who spoke of death and reapers with a feverish delirium that made no sense to her young mind. She learned long ago not to go chasing ghosts, one will never like what they find. Nor was than any need to chase when they seemed to stalk her families steps. Found within her siblings eyes and slinking among them a if they belong. Their unsaid beginnings laying unspoken between them, Fabledruins finding more comfort in turning a blind eye towards their mysterious start than embracing it. More focused on trying to be bigger, bolder, and more daring than last time. Playing a fools game at pretending she is a fierce wicked creature like her fabled father rather than, well herself. A truthfully timid at heart she-cat with an earnest desire to help others. A she-cat who would prefer to listen rather than speak and sun herself rather than going dashing on to the next big adventure.
LE PETIT VOLONTAIRE | AROVET LI | FRANÇOIS-MARIE AROUET
(determined little thing)
family of one
- "Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities" -
The illegitimate son of a father that would have liked nothing more than the chance to have drowned him at birth his beginnings were anything other than graceful. His mother's mate, the father of his two older half-siblings tolerated him like one tolerated a particularly stubborn cold. With a stiff upper lip and determined patience to outlast it until it simply went away. This paired with a mother that was often absent in every sense of the word and leaving him often at the mercy of his half-siblings. He struggled those first months of his life, to small, to out-of-place, and never enough to quite make up for his alienation among them. When times grew desperate he thought of approaching his true blood father but one did not approach the devil with nothing to bargain with. So he learned and spent more time than he cared to trying to find his strengths. It came in the form of his wit, his brains, and his ability to twist words into beautiful bouquet of flowers to charm even the most stubborn conquest. When his adopted father finally sent him away it was to his blood father he went. Holding his head high and spinning pretty words and cajoling his way into the upper echelons his father surrounded himself with. He fit in no better among them that he had his mother and her new family. But he pretended better and soon was winning over a pretty she-cat that was as sweet as honey. His origins, his illegitimacy had not been forgotten though. And when the two were caught together he was chased off for forgetting his place. Cast out once more, sent to find a new place to slot himself into. His bargaining skills grew greater, along side other skills for tasks both useful and useless. Flower crowns something he could make in his sleep, perhaps holding greater skill in the craft than he did in even hunting. For a short while the tom settled to living in a two-legs back yard, fed and given shelter from the rain and not fighting hard for anything. But such a life became dull soon after and his paws were once again carrying him elsewhere. Once traveling through a city he was held prisoner by a gang for a short while before his silver tongue convinced them that there was no use to be gained from having him around and no joy to be gotten from killing someone as insignificant as him. A white and gray tom with mismatched eyes he's memorable enough that even those who have only been subjected to his presences once will more than likely remember him. Roughed up a little he left in no lesser spirits than he had arrived in. Finding joy in meeting all these cats and seeing the cultures they lived among. He is a tom that feels no deep sorrow towards many things but fights against injustice when he sees it. Rather paradoxical is his approach to the world and what he values towards what he dismisses. He goes by many names and is often known by a different one to every cat he encounters depending on how much he likes them. Most know him a Le Petit Volontaire, though some know him as Arovet Li, and only his family knows him by his given name François-Marie Arouet. A name he holds no affection for. Rude at times in the way he will readily and easily makes jokes at others expense. But intelligent and noble for the most part.
All is fair in love and war, or to be more apt in this scenario all is fair in a lovers war. The story starts long before our main character enters the scene, the plot having been built long before his time and the storyline gifted onto his shoulders to be carried forward. It starts with a Moonclan she-cat, beautiful and stunning she takes others breaths away with her grace but is as quickly forgotten due to her bitter moods. Though not all can be forced to abandon their pursuits of her just by a horrible attitude, and soon one tom is so persistent, so stubborn that she graces him with a rare smile. But what is a story without conflict, and this one is no different. This tom was not from moonclan, being a outsider who met our she-cat on the border and showed up every day since for a chance to catch a glimpse of her. The she-cat was wicked in her sense of humor and found joy in causing this tom trouble, stringing him along just enough to keep him interested and then causing him no amount of grief. It was well known among those who knew her what she was doing in her spare time for entertainment and some of them even gained a laugh or two from hearing about her latest torment to the poor tom. But the joke was soon on her when she found herself pregnant, having been told long ago she was infertile. A fact that many said was the true reason she had wilted into something so terrible. The news brought her no relive though, and she found herself horrified to be carrying this toms kits. She started starving herself soon after, determined to loose the litter. But perhaps the gods were punishing her for her wickedness because as time went the litter lived inside her refusing to be killed. When she went into labor it was doomed event, so weak she had made herself in her quest to loose the kits. The medicine cat did all they could for her but she passed moments after her litter came to life. Named by the only one the she-cat could call a friend, a childhood love who had separated from her after learning she was infertile. It was no surprise that Foolskit was the name out protagonist was gifted with, for nothing could change the story thus far that had brought him into being. A brilliantly white tom, blinding to the eye with sharp bones and eyes as blue as the summer sky. Nothing he could do as a kit was ever enough to get him out from under the weight of his own name. Despite his sharp wit and well spoken thoughts he would always be remembered for his mothers foolish actions leading up to his birth. Somehow apart of the clan but separate at the same time he learned to keep his harsher words to himself and his shortcomings hidden. Fading into the background of the other more rambunctious kits and only coming to life again once he was made an apprentice. It was during this period Foolspaw let himself shine and made use of his brilliant mind, proving himself to hold a tacticians mind and spiders patience. Holding himself on a thin wire ready to snap at a moments notice but never to early and never without a cause worthy of loosing his so prized self-control. Earning the name Foolsgambit, earning a place among the older cats, was when he felt he had finally escaped the memory of his mother. Others now seeing him rather than her, and he plans to keep it this way. Never willing to fail for fear of becoming his mother.
Recklessness grows worse the luckier one is, for what care does a favorite of lady luck have for consequences. What have they learned if they are always lucky enough to escape the worst. Further compounded by a devil may care attitude, a callous regard for their own health and too much glee taken in others pain. Twistedhumor is a tom who doesn't care if others are cruel to him, a skin thicker than a cows hide. He cares much more if his own words are enough to cut others, will push and push until he can see others bleed. Until he can drive them into a blind rage that has a chesire grin stretching across his own features in pleasure. A patchy furred black tom with spots of white that do eerie things for his yellow eyes he is a alien like figure. Though perhaps that was meant to be, to warn others of his twisted inner nature. If his name alone wasn't enough to serve as a warning for others to be on their guard around him. He aspires to nothing and wants everything, greedy and obsessive he is unsettling at the worst of times and different at the best of times. For those he cares for he tries his best to let go of his less flattering qualities but it is hard at times to tap down the cruelest of tendencies. But this does not mean he has no redeeming qualities. For those he loves he will do anything, will send his own soul to hell to save those he cares for. And sometimes his humor isn't all doom and bloom and is instead witty and light when the tom is feeling particularly optimistic. Perhaps this just makes him more difficult to handle as one might never know what they will get with Twistedhumor.
“Even when my soul is tired, I will always find strength for my children.”
R E L A T I O N S H I P S | P L O T S
DIVORCEE PLOT } She falls in love with another apprentice. They think it is their happy ever after. But she falls pregnant the tom breaks it off.
MORNINGKIT | MIST
EVENINGKIT | STORM
TWILIGHTKIT | WOODS
MIDNIGHTKIT | ORCHID
T H R E A D S
BI O G R A P H Y
A life of adventure is not for everyone, even those who think themselves the pioneers. Some have to be burned before they realize that it's not a life suited to them. Skyflower is one of these poor souls that carries the burns of ill-fated decisions and mistakes made in youth. Unforgettable but ones that she would repeat every-time if she was given multiple chances to try again. For these mistakes brought her some of her biggest gifts in life, even if the scars still linger and hinder in other ways. Skyflower is snarky and often cutting towards stupidity having no patience for those who surround her.
The twin sister to Nebulacloud. These two are identical twins. They are practically attached at the hip and almost are never seen without each other. She likes to finish the sentences her sister starts. She is more interested in physical experimenting. Wondering how plants and how the body works and reacts to things that happen to it. She often corners apprentices or younger warriors and forces them into her and her sister's experiments. Novastreak's experiments are more harmful that Nebulacloud's but won't cause death most of the time. But can lead to a sick clanmate or a slightly injured clanmate. She like her sister sneaks into the medicine cat den often to steal herbs for her experiments ultimately wasting them for her own passion.
f - nursery aid Sister to Rhymingsilence. A grey tabby with specks of orange and heterochromic blue and golden-green eyes. One may think that the -blink part of her name is due to her intoxicating gaze, and maybe at first it was. But it soon began to take on a different meaning. No one would call her quiet, for her cheerful chatter can often be heard throughout the clan, but for some odd reason, her pawsteps are nearly completely silent. She, herself, doesn't seem to realize this fact, and it's hard to notice when she bounds and jumps everywhere, but it's in the subtle ways that she approaches someone. You blink, and suddenly there she is. She is very mother-like in personality, always making sure her friends have eaten before she does. Although she tries to always put others first, there are times where she is quite selfish, and she often brags about herself, though she doesn't mean for it to come off as such. Sometimes, her love can be quite suffocating to others as well.
Her first friend was a shadow that seemed to walk besides her when she first stumbled away from her mothers corpse, it seemed to linger over her as she scavenged for food and ate from rotting corpses long since abandoned by larger predators. She found solace in it's heavy weight as her own dwindles and spoke to it as she once chattered to her mother. She considered it a friend up until the moment she realized it was nothing but a shade created by her own grief. How distraught she was! How humiliated! And she had no-one to blame but her own weak self. There was no one walking besides her, she was alone and so pathetic in even this that she made up someone to keep her company. The shadow was gone within the moment she screamed her rage into the wilds and sobbed her grief to the earth. Her steps were surer then, carried more purpose, her eating habits dwindled further in her distrust for herself. She twisted herself further and further into her own head until the outside world seemed to cease to exist. She wandering into Fallclan territory a terrible scrap of a thing, not fit for a meal. And she hid from the patrol she heard approaching her, terrified of being forced to exist once again. But there was little to do to hide the stench of her and she was taken in by Fallclan. They thought they were gifting her a great service and instead she felt only torment. She curled up in the darkest part of the medicine cat den she could find. She spoke little and rejected food for as long as she could. What was she to do, she wanted to scream. She didn't want to be anyones pity project, she didn't want their kindness, and she wanted nothing more than to go back to living in her head. There was a kit that one day ended up in the nursery alongside, and they spoke at length about their brother, about Fallclan, about how excited they were to be an apprentice. She had no voice to tell them to shut up and so she listened. And something in her opened a crack, just enough that she left her dark spot and started listening to others. To the medicine cat that spoke of a future, and she ignored the shadows of the den that loomed behind her no longer comforting and instead stepped forward. She recovered slowly, setbacks inevitable and never regained what one might call a healthy appetite. But she eats now and no longer hides in the shadows away from the world that she is convinced will never be kind to her. She drifts alongside the other Fallclan cats, like a forgotten memory, small and stunted but with a tortured beauty to her. Alluring in her quiet grace and eerie blue eyes. Quiet and serene some might call her, others might see past that and realize she seems to simply be a little out of place. Like a puzzle piece that almost is a perfect fit but is just slightly off. Skeletonwaltz closes her shutters when others show her any kindness and flinches at others trying to connect to her. Convinced she doesn't deserve this second chance at life, even after so long of living it. Remembering her first friend who was never truly there to begin with she struggles with trust and acceptance. A skeleton waltzing to the song of her dead heart.
MANICMADNESS Both tormentor and protector he was given a purpose at the young age under the rule of a delusional queen. Tasked with protecting his sickly brother and serving the cat that had a heavy hand in raising him with his whole life. He developed a fanatical devotion to her, and tolerated no one elses direction or attention. He resented the attention his brother got from her and was often manipulated into letting that resentment fester and dig itself deeper within him simply for the she-cats amusement. From the beginning of his story Manicmadness was in a sense doomed to be the twisted amalgamation of what others machinations made him. A creature of spite perched on a throne of bone. When his evil queen was overthrown he thought nothing other than following her, protecting her from their pursuers, even at the cost of his own health and sanity. Leading them on wild chases to give her time to escape and then going to the arranged meeting place bleeding and heavily injured to find no sign of her. To learn the central figure his life had revolved around since kithood, the cat he had devoted himself to, had forgotten him in mere moments and left him for dead. He spent days waiting, hoping for some sign they would show up for what was he without them? They never returned and he did the only other thing he knew how to. He raged, he mercilessly killed all those he came across and went into a downward spiral of ever growing madness. Speaking to the plants, yelling to the sky, burying himself in shallow graves with his head sticking out in hopes of dying. The anger only ever seeming to grow larger and his behavior more erratic as time lengthened. Until the moment he wandered into a road and was struck by a car, the months following passed in a blur Manicmadness's time passing in a haze due to the painkillers and upheaval of his life. By the time things seemed to snap back into focus he had been firmly within the grasping hands of twolegs for longer than he could keep track of. His recovery having been long and lulling him into laziness. Sitting on the cold concrete things seemed to fall into perfect clarity, his life so far becoming a story he could pick apart and see where he had went wrong. From that moment on he became the vicious and cruel self-confident cat he had been in his heydays. Escaping soon after and taking a few admirers with him; setting out to find out what had happened to his sickly brother Hystericpague. Manicmadness's background has shaped him into a prickly and often unpleasant cat to keep in ones company. Dour and vocal about any little thing that upsets him. Mercurial moods often making him dangerous to start conversation with and having others scurrying from his path. His grin is unnatural and his yellow eyes unsettling.
SCAVENGERHUNT
SUNFLIGHT
ANTKIT
Quick-witted, the king of one-liners, there something secretive behind those dark eyes; a vast, tempting emptiness that lures cats in. They sense a story that his jokes are trying to hide, and despite his attempts to explain, no cat believes the simple truth that he’s merely funny. There is a deep irony in this, as the level of mystery to him is nonexistent. The tom rather open, secrets something he does a poor job at keeping. So while he is simpyl trying to have a good time, a fun time he is instead bombarded with thinly veiled questions trying to get to the bottom of his history. Thinking he is using humor as a shield they often ignore his jokes to instead tell him he doesn't have to be funny all the time to hide his pain. Leaving him bamboozled to how to convince them that no he is hiding nothing, he is just a comedian. Eventually he gives up on this if it seems that he will never be able to win the argument and instead, he spends all his time trying to convince other cats he’s smarter and deeper then he is. Which in the end often solves his problem, because the moment someone starts saying they're deep or smart is the moment others stop believing it.
Both tormentor and protector he was given a purpose at the young age under the rule of a delusional queen. Tasked with protecting his sickly brother and serving the cat that had a heavy hand in raising him with his whole life. He developed a fanatical devotion to her, and tolerated no one elses direction or attention. He resented the attention his brother got from her and was often manipulated into letting that resentment fester and dig itself deeper within him simply for the she-cats amusement. From the beginning of his story Manicmadness was in a sense doomed to be the twisted amalgamation of what others machinations made him. A creature of spite perched on a throne of bone. When his evil queen was overthrown he thought nothing other than following her, protecting her from their pursuers, even at the cost of his own health and sanity. Leading them on wild chases to give her time to escape and then going to the arranged meeting place bleeding and heavily injured to find no sign of her. To learn the central figure his life had revolved around since kithood, the cat he had devoted himself to, had forgotten him in mere moments and left him for dead. He spent days waiting, hoping for some sign they would show up for what was he without them? They never returned and he did the only other thing he knew how to. He raged, he mercilessly killed all those he came across and went into a downward spiral of ever growing madness. Speaking to the plants, yelling to the sky, burying himself in shallow graves with his head sticking out in hopes of dying. The anger only ever seeming to grow larger and his behavior more erratic as time lengthened. Until the moment he wandered into a road and was struck by a car, the months following passed in a blur Manicmadness's time passing in a haze due to the painkillers and upheaval of his life. By the time things seemed to snap back into focus he had been firmly within the grasping hands of twolegs for longer than he could keep track of. His recovery having been long and lulling him into laziness. Sitting on the cold concrete things seemed to fall into perfect clarity, his life so far becoming a story he could pick apart and see where he had went wrong. From that moment on he became the vicious and cruel self-confident cat he had been in his heydays. Escaping soon after and taking a few admirers with him; setting out to find out what had happened to his sickly brother Hystericpague. Manicmadness's background has shaped him into a prickly and often unpleasant cat to keep in ones company. Dour and vocal about any little thing that upsets him. Mercurial moods often making him dangerous to start conversation with and having others scurrying from his path. His grin is unnatural and his yellow eyes unsettling.
