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 decadeβs 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.
The Cursed Realm is not where you would expect to meet a child infatuated with the light and bright things of the world. At one time, it was a dark and dreary place, where the dead still roamed the earth and each sect leader knew their time was sand in an hourglass, running quickly into the empty vastness of oblivion. Each sect leader of the Nie sect understood that because of their unconventional cultivation manners, they would live short lives. Bearing heirs was one of the most important tasks to undertake as a sect leader of the Nie; it guaranteed the survival of the sect and its commanding line.
His elder brother understood the enormous responsibility and obligation that came with being sect leader. He was a brilliant commanding force: sharp, vigilant, gruff and strong when need be, yet always tender, gentle and caring towards himself.
They had been close since his birth, he imagined. Of course, he couldnβt remember that far back, but from the time of his earliest memory, they had been as thick as thieves. While his brother held no qualms about teaching him the ways of the Nie and scolding him for his perilous, mischievous adventures with his greatest childhood friend, Stygian, his brother had also understood that the stereotypical life of a Nie was not meant for such a sweet hearted, fragile one as he was.
There were times when he longed to be capable of the cultivation ways of his namesake sect. As a Nie, it was expected that he would be a role model and a great one to the disciples of the Cursed Realm. As it was, while his brother led with the strength of a thousand and brought pride to the hearts of money, the young master of Nie was a constantly bewildered thing who answered every question with βI donβt knowβ, either out of genuine confusion or to drive away curious folk, it wasnβt known.
The grey tortoiseshell tom smiled to himself, turning his head away to hide the expression, eyes dancing at the thought. No one knew what was going on in his head.
That was a good thing.
It gave him something his forefathers didnβt have: Time.
