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.
"Mama?" Called a tiny voice, shaken with fear. A small, pale ginger she-kit trampled through the undergrowth of the forest, blue eyes wide with shock. The brown tabby that she called her mother was just here a second ago - and now, she was gone. She had previously told the kit to hide in the bushes and close her eyes, for she had a surprise, and the eager young thing complied. So now, here she was, still in the bush, with her eyes now wide open. She had been sitting there for a few minutes now, and she got an eerie feeling that something wasn't right.
A light rain had began to fall, and as the kit stepped out from the bush, water began to darken and grime her once beautiful pelt. She lifted her head to scent where her mother had gone, but all she could smell was the rain. Tiny paws led her from in front of the bush to the trail that her and her mother had previously taken, and as she walked farther, the harder the rain fell. Soon, she was trudging through the mud, trying her best not to get stuck.
She continued on like this for an hour, maybe two – she had lost track of time. Her mother was nowhere to be found, and as she peeked through the undergrowth of the forest at the old fox den her and her mother had taken refuge in during the last storm, she caught sight of a brown tabby she-cat inspecting the den dutifully as a larger, ginger tabby tom sat to the side, gazing around the area.
Holding her breath, the kit turned and bolted off in an unknown direction, for everything in her heart, head and gut told her to just run. Run as far and as fast as her legs could carry her, and never return to where she came from.
Medusalith woke with a start. She had been having this re-occurring dream for quite some time now, and it haunted her thoughts during the day while she was awake. With a sigh, she removed herself from her nest and walked out of the kadets' den, looking out towards the clearing of camp as she realized nobody else was awake. The moon was still high above in the sky, and crickets around the camp were chirping their happy little songs. It must be the middle of the night, She thought, and she moved out towards the clearing and towards the entrance of camp, where she pushed through and began towards the waterfall.
In a way, he had made it an oath when he was sworn in as Tsar, those moons ago.
Those times had now passed, however, and he was left with the pieces: attempting to keep a clan together while it faced nothing but a wall of bloodied spikes, being controlled by none other than the current tsar: Loki E’clair.
If he had known she would be the harbinger of death, he would have reevaluated his decision to step down. He would have told her to wait; to learn and grow and make mistakes. To realize that because she was born to power didn’t mean she deserved it. Tasman would be ashamed of him for thinking such things... but she was long gone now, and while it still ached, he had a responsibility to care for those he’d once taken under his wing.
Medusalith was a curious creature that, while aware of her having been brought into the fold at a young age, he hadn’t had the time to become acquainted with. Which was part of why he was here now, padding towards her with green eyes narrowed but warm. She was a dependent; as such, she was his ward, whether she knew it or not.
“Medusa,” he purred in greeting, dipping his head. “Do you care to offer an old man some company? We have yet to speak, and I have some questions.”
Medusalith didn't know much about Loki E'Clair. She had heard of her rise to power, through the death of Tasman and the stepping down of Rune, yet she hadn't had an interaction with the Tsar. The only time she did interact with her was when Medusalith was let into BrookClan not even a moon ago, and that was that. She knew with her recently joining, there were going to be those who were skeptical of her, those who hated her, and those who wanted to get to know her. It was a mixture of things, really, a mixture that left Medusa feeling whiplashed. Medusalith had an itching feeling that Loki was skeptical of her; she prayed to the Gods that the Tsar wouldn't come to hate her, as others have upon making brash opinions about her that made not a lick of sense.
Upon hearing a male voice call out to her, Medusalith turned, coming to face with none other than Rune. Blinking once, twice, three times, she came to the realization that yes, he was talking to her, and it was rude to just gawk at him with her mouth wide open. "I, uhm, yes - hello." She finally managed to sputter out, her cheeks heating up underneath her fur. "How are you doing tonight, sir?" Medusa asked, deciding the best route to take was to be respectful. She needed to make connections within BrookClan, afterall. If she were to keep going down the same path she was currently on, it wouldn't turn out good for her. Connections is exactly what you need in BrookClan to thrive, and she was bound and determined to make 'friends'.
He chuckled at her formal tone and the way she shifted under his gaze, making a mental note to soften his approach; occasionally he received reactions like this. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her uncomfortable. Unlike other Dvoryane, he didn’t find any enjoyment in lording his power over others. “I’m doing well, thank you. So,” he tilted his head with a small smile, “what do you say? Care to join me?” He glanced toward the walking path pawsteps upon pawsteps had drove into the earth over time.
A small smile graced Medusalith's leathery lips as Rune chuckled. She knew that she was an awkward little thing, one that had yet to come to fully understand the ways of BrookClan, and how they worked as a unity. Though, with Loki being in charge, BrookClan wasn't as unionized as it used to be. Death laid in wait around every corner, stretching it's claws as it awaited it's next victim. Medusalith was lucky she wasn't chosen for the Arena, though her heart still shuddered at the thought; that could all change within a second.
"I'd love to join you," The ginger tabby she-cat purred, pale blue eyes glinting marvelously in the light of the moon. "Where shall we go?"
"I like to take things one step at a time," he hummed, beginning their journey with a step forward. They wound their way along the paths of the heart of the kingdom, slowly reaching the outer limits of the encampment where the trees became more densely populated and little tributaries snaked their way through trenches in the earth to the rivers that ran through their territory. He glanced at the she-cat. "So, tell me about yourself."
