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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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.
Rowan lounged in the small sunny he'd managed to find. He could hear the other prisoners complaining and even the gaurd telling them to hush. With an eye rool, the tom made himself more comfortable. He was use to being a prisoner, though it wasn't always in WinterClan. Weather here where it was cold or back where the cats were cold. He'd take the cold weather over the cold cats that wanted him and his brother dead. In the distance he could hear his brother talking to someone, who, he didn't know and didn't care.
"-And that is the story of how I saved my dearest brother from a gang of rabid squirrels!" Birch exclaimed cheerfully, his posture straightening with pride as he took in the other prisoner with a bright, charming smile. The story was rather extravagant and colorful with details as per the usual style of his story telling. To some, it was seen as a skill to tell such exciting stories, but to others, it could have seem like a nuisance. Regardless, Birch never turned down a moment to recount a story, even if it was exaggerated.
"So you see, it if were not for my bravery and wits, you wouldn't have the pleasure of knowing one of the smartest, and may I add, prettiest cats around, my brother Rowan!" He purred loudly, turning his head to look over at his brother, who quietly basked under the single ray of sun that managed to break through the exteriors of their prison.
"Hey! Be quiet in their, you disgusting furballs!" Came the cruel voice of the Knight of the Guards. Frostcloud was carrying in a few pieces of scrawny prey. She tossed it into the hungry prisoners. "This is all you get for the day. Enjoy...or don't. I don't even care" she responded with an eye roll.
"For once I agree with Frostcloud. And I hate that ugly she-cat's guts," Cadet Louella groaned, not looking at either of the two toms and instead twiddling her paws around a single shred of yarn. She hard worn that scarf for a reason and still hadn't forgiven the brutish WinterClan cats for leaving it in the snow to be lost forever. She very much could have used it around her neck right now. It was so, so cold here, even though it was early spring it felt like mid-winter and she marveled at the fact that any one cat would want to live up here full time much less an entire Clan, "Don't you have any better stories, you know, cats versus cats? A story of betrayal, love and murder. I'm sick of hearing about squirrels."
"Oh do tell her ones from home. She'd love those." Rowan rolled his eyes, hoping his brother picked up on the sarcasm. Selecting the smallest morsel he started to return to his place. "Or about how we ended up here. That one is at least interesting." Laying down with his back towards the group, he listened in to what story his brother would tell, and if anything would need corrected about it.
The harsh interruption of the Guard brought a pout to the large, white tom, his bright amber eyes narrowed slightly in exaggerated disappointment " I am sorry to hear that there are so many cats who lack taste in good story-telling." He huffed, his bright gaze bouncing from guard to cadet as he approached the measly pickings, grabbing what ever landed closest to him.
At Rowan's comment, Birch's bright smile returned. "Brilliant idea my dear, sweet brother!" He meowed with content, dropping his meal at his paws followed by an exaggerated throat clearing. "You want a story of betrayal? I've got the story for you!" Birch announced loudly, ignoring the Guard's prior threat as he began to spin his tale "It began on one, particularity dreary and kinda muggy night..."
"Please. You wouldn't know good story telling if you were born and raised with the elders" she mumbled, turning to relieve the guard on duty and took his place. She sat at the entrance to the prisoner's den, still able to hear what the prisoners were talking about.
Rowan finished his meal quickly and rolled over. "And what else do you have to do? Might as well listen to the stories my brother has before they put us to work again clearing snow paths in the camp and outside." The tom didn't mind hard work but it was getting a little old to be clearly snow everyday all day. It never seemed to stop snowing here.
"There's plenty of better things I can do rather than baby sit the bunch of you all day. However, I have duties to my clan and that includes making sure each of you are doing what your suppose to and keeping my guards on a smooth rotation." She responded gruffly. Why was she even explaining this to a prisoner? "Enough questions."
Rowan just rolled his eyes at the guard. Sure she did, not like it wasn't her job to sit outside their prison or anything. He'd picked a few things about WinterClan since they'd been there, especially from Chestnutpaw. Now where was that little one at? She hadn't stopped by yet today to check on Birch and she was always here. Rowan had actually come to like the little one, she was...adorable. Like a little sister he barely remembered having. His siblings had been awful and trained to kill, not to heal and care for others. The good of the group and all that.
These cats just couldn't stay on track. The "story of betrayal" had been forgotten just as soon as it was promised. Louella sighed dramatically and crossed her front paws, glaring up at the sky, since she couldn't pick which cat in front of her ticked her off the most, "Enough of this, if you won't tell a good story then I will." She returned her pale blue eyes to the cats sitting around her and took a deep breath, "Often, in twoleplace, kittypets have their mates chosen for them. Sometimes they will live with them their whole lives and sometimes they only meet once. You see, certain twolegs pride themselves in taking two beautiful cats and making more of them, the goal of which being to make an even more beautiful cat. Those kits are treasured and often shipped across great distances, distances you can't even fathom, to continue to create more beautiful cats," She paused, puffing out her chest, "And if it wasn't obvious already, I'm one of those cats. I am what is known as an Oriental Longhair."
It was true she didn't look like the average forest cat. She was thin even when well-fed, all angles and long legs, her cinnamon tabby swirls carefully painted on like SunClan bodypaint. Her long coat was beautiful but that was its only purpose seeing as it was too thin to protect her from the cold, "Now, you are wondering how someone like me, who is supposed to be shipped around the world of the twolegs, ended up a prisoner in WinterClan of all places? That part of the story is the least interesting. Lorah, the brother of Eshek E'tani, was in a great distress at the time. He sorely missed his dear sister so he went about twolegplace and lands even further away searching for young cats who bore her likeness. He pulled me away from my mother just days after my birth and she was so used to it that she didn't even bat an eye. So, that's how I found myself a cat of the League." Louella decided to pause here. Her story was not yet done but she had covered a lot and wanted to gauge reactions. She wasn't normally the kind of cat to spew out her history like this but she was almost painfully bored and had run out of other things to talk about.
The on-slaughter of interruption lulled the charismatic tom to an amused silence as he took in the contrasting reactions of the group of cats around him. To someone who was being intentional in sharing a story, the situation would have been frustrating, but Birch was quite the opposite. His story-telling was honestly just a method to pass the time away and find some measly scrap of entertainment on the way, but seeing the various reactions from prisoners to the guard left him more entertained. His fluffy white tail lashed behind him in quiet content as he glanced over to his brother, offering him a playful wink just as one of the Cadet's took control of the situation, his attention averting back to the others and she began to spew a story of her own.
"You hear that brother?" Birch finally spoke up, his boisterous voice boomed with exaggeration as he rolled his head back to face his brother "We have to be mighty careful around those two-legs, especially you." As he spoke, he made his way to Rowan, plopping down at his side, falling to his stomach as he pressed himself lovingly into his brother's side "One look at your beautiful face and they'll snatch you up and use your beauty to create kits."
Rowan just rolled his eyes. yea liked they'd take him when they could have his charmer of a brother. The tom purred to his brother, a wicked grin finding it's way onto his face. "Really, taken at a few days old? Then how do you remember things? Surely your memory isn't that good? But really, to be taken as a kit how terrible." It was nothing like their life. Born into the life of murders and expected to keep that life from a few days old. They were sent on missions as young as 3 moons old and expected to do everything in perfection or die trying.
Birch chuckled deeply, straightening up with dramatic flair "Well I don't know if you know this, but cats with natural charm and wit tend to have photo memory!" His wide smile never once left his handsome face as he took in the other prisoners. "Heck, I even remember a time when we barley had our eyes open and you banged your head so hard against a tree trunk it nearly scared the wits out of me. It was probably that moment that messed you up in the head so much that you can remember anything." A new act of false nonchalance took over the white tom as he glanced at one of his raised paws with fake interest "It would make sense as you suddenly don't seem to clearly remember all our kit adventures...."
