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.
Now that the dust had finally settled down again, Hystericplague was glad to be back in the normal swing of things. No more questioning life and the existence of Starclan, he could just focus on his experiments once more. Usually, he dabbled in anything he could get his paws on. Healing, poisons, even something as little as something to make prey taste better or last longer. Now, he decided that he should look more into poisons, so he wouldn't be useless should he find himself in the middle of a battle again. Questions swarmed in his mind, and of course he would hunt for the answers. What would be best to lace his claws in? Should he try to incapacitate or kill? Something in him told him that Calamitystar wouldn't agree with him using actual poisons in battle, so perhaps he should try nonlethal means.
Which is what brought him out to the border of Fallclan territory. As per usual, he was alone, relying on the fact that most things would take one look at his unproportionate, hairless body and decide to leave him alone. His golden eyes skimmed the leaves, searching for anything of use.
Reaper was as unaware of clan doings as she always was. No matter where she wandered, she saw cats clamoring for power, fighting for the claim to superiority. It was all talk and no action. Sure, they fought, but winners eventually lost and losers eventually won. The world around her was a boring, predictable game. She preferred to stay out of it. She had seen country cats, city cats, beach cats, all of them thinking the world revolved around them, their family, their group. They were so pitifully naive.
She was faintly aware she had crossed into clan territory, as the scents around her spoke of one united group. It was a pain to go around borderlines, so often she just drifted through them. Occasionally she met a member of whatever group she was wandering through. If they fought, Reaper always won. She wasn't named like she was facetiously. Currently, the small, inky she-cat came to a silent stop beside a thick bush. Several paces ahead of her was a naked, funny looking tom. He was downwind, seemingly unaware of her presence. If nothing else, tonight would not be uneventful.
"Good evening," Reaper spoke, her voice held in a soft tone to avoid startling the new tom too badly. Perhaps he would fight, perhaps he would talk. Either way, her lemon-yellow eyes remained impassive, nearly bored.
