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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The moon was high that night, illuminating the surrounding land, but summoned sinister shadows. His patrol lone patrol had come to an end and was returning to camp. As he made his way through the forest, following a path worn into the earth from paws before him, glowing pairs of orange orbs would appear and catch his attention out of the corner of his eye, but every time he turned to look at them, they would disappear. Every few steps he would taste the air but nothing hinted at anything other than the usual night scents. His fur itched, a feeling he only got when his instincts told him he was in danger. He hurried his pace, the itching growing more intense. A series of hostile yowls suddenly rang out. But it sounded like it was just to the right of him.
Get out of there.
He jumped, frightened and his adrenaline kicked into overdrive, prompting him to start sprinting. The sound of something or some things giving chase. He ran as fast as he could but he couldn't seem to shake whatever it was off of his tail. His lungs were starting to burn; he was running out of energy. Luckily though, the familiar scent of camp was growing stronger. I'm getting closer. I just have to keep pushing through. The mouth of the camp entrance was just a few tail lengths away. It was a straight shot. Secure in the feeling that he will make it safely, he chanced a glance back at his pursuers.
Nothing was there.
A look of confusion crossed his face. What was it that chasing him. He had clearly heard something following him just a moment before, he was convinced he was being chased. His body gave him every indication that danger was imminent. Slowing his pace to a halt he turned around to peer through the darkness. No strange orbs or yowling or anything. It was quiet aside from his labored breathing. Not wanting to wait for something to show back up he went to turn around. Before he even had time to react, a large black shape jumped him.
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Viperstream woke up yelling and thrashing in his nest, his eyes wide open. He looked around bewildered before realizing that he was still in his den. That was a dream? But it felt so real. The sun hadn't quite risen yet but it was peaking just over the over horizon, casting a red glow around the den entrance. It was still early enough for him to go back under but he was too jarred to even think about it. Deciding his bet would be fresh air to clear his mind, he stood up and entered the camp clearing.
When their exulted ancestors went to form Peonymist, they spared no detail. Her face is delicate and round, with long whiskers and a soft pink nose. Her eyes are lean towards saffron with a dash of sage, and her ears are dark tufts of ebony. Her body seems to have been rolled through all of the newleaf flowers until it gathered every color in the meadow, though bold crimsons, soft creams, and deep charcoal are most dominant. Peonymist seemed to be the most perfectly crafted work of art in all creation...until her birth. It was a difficult birth, hers. Her mother labored for almost a full day to bring her and her into the world. When the time came for the gods to give up their precious possession, they grew greedy and didn't want to give her up. Through her mother's sheer will, Peonymist was born into SpringClan. In their ire, the gods punished Peonymist, determined that if they can't have her beauty all to themselves, then no one should have it. Her hind leg was permanently crippled when it lost blood flow during the birthing, and if that wasn't enough, her mother died shortly afterwards, leaving her with no one in the world but herself - not even littermates. Alone, unable to even run and play with the other kits her age, Peonymist felt ever the outsider. Her personality wasn't unlike her appearance - beautiful, but for one flaw. Rather than let others shun her, she shunned them first. Rather than let others insult her, she insulted them first. This became a vicious cycle, where the others grew to dislike the temperamental, withdrawn she-cat. And so she successfully isolated herself in a clan full of kind-hearted cats. Still, Peonymist isn't entirely without kindness. She is known to be gentle and patient with the kits, and indulgent with the story tellers when they rope her in for yet another tale of moons gone by. She really has nothing else to do, to tell the truth. Her warrior training wasn't traditional, as she can't hunt or fight like the other warriors. Her balance is too off, and her poor mentality served as the ultimate handicap. Because of this, she was granted her warrior name but expected to stay in camp and help as needed - a perpetual apprentice trapped in a warrior's body. She resents the beautiful imprisonment, loathing the smiling, laughing faces of cats as they come into camp fragrant with wildflowers and sunshine. To get through to Peonymist one has to be hardheaded -- even more so than she is. They have to be determined, and they have to truly care. Her heart is so carefully guarded that it would take a small militia to get in, but once there you'll see why the security measures are worth it.
Peonymist enjoyed waking up before the sun. The quiet hour before the dawn broke over the horizon was one of her most cherished times of the day, free of teasing or hidden comments about her hind leg. The air was always so incredibly still, as if the whole world was holding its breath, just waiting to see what artistry the sun would paint the sky with that morning. This morning in particular found Peonymist laying just outside the warrior's den on the soft moss of the camp floor, paws crossed and head laid upon them as she watched a silent vigil over the death of the night and the birth of a new day.
Her thoughts wandered during this time, flitting from anything so trivial as what she would eat for breakfast to as serious as if she was really going to forgive Jackalfang for what he'd done. Sometimes she didn't have any thoughts at all, closer to sleep than wakefulness, and it was at this time her clanmate woke with a violent shout, raising the fur along her spine and drawing her claws from their sheaths before she even knew what she was doing. Bursting into the warrior's den in a rushed hobble, she frantically glanced around, her gaze landing on Viperstream. "What happened?" she asked, trying to find the danger she was entirely unprepared to fight.
The tom blinked his eyes a few times at the she-cat before answering her. "I-it's nothing. It was only...a dream," he responded as he looked down. No, it was more like a nightmare than anything. Dreams are supposed to be happy and that...that was far from it. But why now? He looked back up at her. "Thank you for your concern, Peonymist. I didn't mean to bother you like that. It was really nothing," he said apologetically. But one thing thing did bother him though - what did these images mean? Was it foreshadowing something more sinister to come or was it just merely negative thoughts manifesting themselves in his dream state. "Oh, Peonymist, do you think Fawnheart will be up at this hour?"
Harewhisker woke up irritated. A voice had yanked her from her pleasant, deep sleep. She slid one eye open to see the cause of her inconvenience and took in the sight of Peonymist and Viperstream. The she-cat was surprised that no others had been awoken by the noise. "You know," she grumbled, voice heavy with sleep, "this clan is in so much trouble if our warriors don't wake up when they hear shouting like that."
Harewhisker's voice startled the tom and he almost jumped out of his fur. He was still being affected by the nightmare. Turning his gaze toward her, he relaxed a bit seeing who it was. He had completely forgot he wasn't in there alone. "My apologies, Harewhisker. Go back to sleep." He then returned his attention to Peonymist and stood up to leave the den. "I suppose I should head out then," he said as he started off toward the entrance.
'Cause you're a villainous thing / And we can't have you living a lie
635 posts
Post by eventide on Jun 11, 2020 16:32:28 GMT -5
Before Peonymist could reply, Harewhisker spoke up. The she-cat stayed quiet as they spoke, knowing most of the clan didn't want her as part of their conversations anyway. Now that she knew there wasn't a bloodthirsty murderer in the warrior's den, her fur laid flat and her claws retracted, but something about Viperstream's expression troubled her. When he got up to leave, she did so as well, hobbling out of the den after him. "She should be awake," she finally answered, motioning to Fawnheart's den. "But sometimes herbs aren't what's needed. You wanna talk about what just happened?"
Peonymist was cold to her clanmates. This was known. So her reaction to Viperstream's nightmare was out of character and would likely have confused any of her clanmates had they been awake to see it. Still, there was genuine compassion in her gaze as she spoke, entreating him to open up to her.
He shook his head. "I'm not exactly sure where to start," he meowed before looking at her. "I'm not even sure if its something I know how to talk about. It was just so...random." But the more he thought about, it may be better for him to talk about it rather than internalize it and suffer. It was strange, though, that Peonymist was taking a genuine interest in his situation. He sighed and prepared to vent his experience. "Alright, here goes..." he started to stay as he sat down, "In my dream, I was out doing a lone patrol like I usually do when I want to clear my mind, but it got strange when I got the feeling I was being watched and followed but I couldn't see anything. So I sprinted back to camp where I thought it would be safe but before I could make it there, I was attacked by something. And that's why I woke up the way I did." He glanced over to with a small sheepish smile Peonymist to see how she would react to it. In hindsight, it sounded weird for a cat to dream of doing patrols by themselves. "Sorry if that sounded a bit strange."
