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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Stormstar lay on the border beneath a pale quarter-moon that draped his pelt in long shadows from the looming trees surrounding him. His tail beat rhythmically, measuring the passage of time as the moon inched higher; if Twilightdance had received his request, she would have journeyed from NightClan tonight, and with any luck, she would be arriving soon. In the few days since he had taken control, he had gotten a strong measure of the clan, and he was in need of some assistance. Stormstar was enjoying playing games with his new subjects, and he did not wish to bury that fun beneath a large workload.
His blue ears pricked at the sound of paws approaching, and Stormstar sat upright, an eager grin already stretching over his features. "Twilightdance, you came," he greeted, skimming the darkness for a sign of her arrival.
The pale light of the moon did its service, lighting her path as she walked alone through this foreign land. While the moon’s kiss failed to differentiate her raven fur from the shadows of the trees, it did aluminate the buttercups, primroses, and oxeye daisies that passed underpaw. After several moons in her new home, she’d come to love the night, but she had a feeling the night scape of this land would envy the picture of Summerclan come the day. This place would be even more ravishing when the sun emerged.
Nerves ran through her as she made her trek. She didn’t know what to make of recent events. From what she’d heard, her blue friend had gone and gotten himself a third name. That made her nervous. She’d heard that cats… changed after they took up the leadership mantle. Would Stormstar still be the smiling, genial gentleman she’d met? Of course, she told herself, he’s not a leader in truth – it’s the lives that change a cat, and he never receiv— she cut the fretful thought from her mind. Stormstar was a leader now, and he had summoned her of all cats. It was an honor for her to abide – her nerves came from excitement more than fear.
And then she heard his voice calling her name ahead. “Stormstar!” She called back, a smile blossoming on her face. She spotted the blue tom waiting a few paces away, looking more obsidian in the darkness. After she’d glided over the cool grass to stand before him, she looked up to display a cheeky smile and meowed, “you called?”
His new name never failed to send a thrum of satisfaction through his chest. Leadership suited Stormstar; his mind felt clearer and his words more clever when there was power to his name. His grasp on the clan was tenuous, he was still an instrument of their leader and he suspected their hold on the clan would be temporary at best, but he was going to revel in every second of this mission that he could. SummerClan was ripe with amusements to hold his interest, and he could not wait to share them.
She was the first cat he had thought to call when the invasion finished. Aspenstar had assigned a few cats to work with him, Phantomfox and Pinesimmer in particular, but they weren't the kinds of cats he could trust to provide any real benefit to the clan. The loyal guard was a blunt instrument to force the clan into complacency and the medicine cat was a thorn in the leader's side she just wanted to be rid of. He needed someone more reliable, and he trusted the little queen he'd met.
"Thank you for coming such a long way on short notice. Walk with me," he invited, steering them back toward the depths of SummerClan land. "There is prey waiting for you at camp if you're hungry, and I've had a nest made up. There is little moss used for nests here, and they aren't very comfortable, but if you decide to stay longer, we can find you more comfortable bedding. How was your journey?"
He was eager to show her the land he had claimed, but if he was tired, he would keep their route to camp short.
“Really… you shouldn’t have gone through so much trouble.” Twilightdance was the picture of modesty as she blushed and casually averted her gaze to the sky, focusing on the moon as it escaped behind a cloud, momentarily darkening the forest even further. All sight was blinded in those seconds of perfect blackness, but when the heavenly body reemerged to cast its glow on the pair again, Twilightdance glanced over at her companion and was struck by how much larger he appeared. His frame had always been towering, but now he looked titanic as he strode beside her. But… perhaps that was only a trick of the light… or worse, her imagination.
“Your efforts are flattering. I’m not very tired, or hungry either. I ate well before I left; I finished a whole mouse in anticipation,” she smiled softly, referencing their first meeting. “I was just thinking to myself… this place is so much different from Nightclan. They don’t even use moss? No wonder, look at all the different flora they have. I can only imagine how it’ll look when the sun comes up.” Her gaze had been claimed by the scenery again, but now it raised back to Stormstar’s. “How have you been?” Her voice was light, but concerned pricked her heart, darkening the sweet gaiety in her golden gaze. Knowing him, it wasn’t a question of whether he was acclimating well to the job – but rather, how well his subjects were acclimating to him.
Stormstar waved his tail, dismissive; the praise inflated his ego, but this time, he did not need to hear it. These formalities were expected when he was to make such a generous offer and to ask so much of her. He had learned that much tact from his last failed leadership; with some humor, he wondered what lesson he would take from this one. Leadership by leadership, he'd be sculpted into a better dictator, and his control over his clan grew more absolute.
"SummerClan is more alive than NightClan," he agreed, tilting his head back and he inhaled the myriad scents of the land. "I'll take you through the meadow, you'll see it for yourself; everything here grows thick and sweet." In the sunlight, the flowers were a thousand different shades and colors, each with their own sickly-sweet nectar. The warm air helped the plants grow not only more diversely than their homeland, but larger, and more densely grouped. It was a busy territory, and he was not convinced yet that he enjoyed the crowded nature, but the native cats kept it tame.
"I thought with all these plants, they must have something comfortable to lay upon, but it is far from the truth. Theier nests are so stiff and prickly, I might as well have slept in a bird's nest. This way," Stormstar meowed, deftly sidestepping her question for now. The river tumbled ahead of them, but he turned away from it and led her up a short slope to reveal the wildflower meadow. Even in the darkness it was fierce and vast, stretching over the valley in a sea of dim colors, their stalks bent to the side to accomodate the flow of cats through their midst.
"All of this is mine to rule. I must be the happiest tom in any land." He glanced back at her, eager to see her awe at his splendid claim, but the action immediately filled him with regret. The look in her eyes pulled at him, and his intense blue gaze softened as he felt a creeping shame at his response. In SummerClan, he was quickly adjusting to a life of dishonesty and teasing, to playing games with the cats within and letting them guess at his every thought; Twilightdance was his friend, though, and he saw her concern for him.
"It's going as well as you can expect," he admitted with a sigh, returning his trouble gaze to the meadow. "These cats are angry and bitter, and their hearts are set on their next rebellion. I can welcome them with warmth, let them rule their own lives, pick their own patrols, but they will not see my gestures as anything but manipulation." Their bitterness was not unearned and he was generally manipulating them, that was true, but they had made it a necessity.
Twilightdance’s breath caught in her throat as the meadow unfurled before them. Even with the night muting the ornate colors into an achromatic array of greys, silvers, and blacks, it all flowed together to make the meadow look more like a great silvery pond, the surface flowing lightly in the warm breeze. Trees rose around the perimeter of the pond like eyelashes, towering black silhouettes of oaks and maples and willows, and others she couldn’t recognize in the darkness (or mayhaps she’d never seen them before). She was the type of cat to be charmed by such things – flowers, and ferns, and all miracles of nature. Not just for their practical uses, but for their aesthetic value. Such was the innocent idealism that ruled the mind of the little queen. I must be the happiest tom in any land, she heard Stormstar declare. She was liable to believe him in this moment – who wouldn’t be happy living in such splendor? But then he turned, and she turned to meet his gaze, and her mind immediately returned to the complicated circumstances that had brought them here in the first place.
Things must truly be difficult, she thought, reading the troubled expression on the lines of his face. She’d taken a silence since they’d passed the thundering river, expecting him to talk his way to the truth. And now it’d come. “They’ll learn to accept you… in time…” she meowed to his back, as he assessed his meadow. The words were meant to be assurance, but they rang hollow to her ears – she didn’t know these Summerclan cats, didn’t know what’d occurred to enflame their hearts the night their home had been claimed. Her mind feared to imagine if there’d been any bloodshed, or worse, lives lost, but she didn’t dare ask him. Not for fear of upsetting him or appearing unloyal – but for her own sake. “Whatever you need of me… I’m here to help,” she meowed after a pause, those words ringing stronger, surer in comparison, steeled by complete truth.
Stormstar was utterly confident that with enough time, he could win most of them over. He had done it once before. The Regime had not been happy with his ruling at first, but the mercenaries and scouts had settled down into complacency soon enough, and only his own Superior had dared to remain a challenger. Even then, Shule's opposition had been quiet. Those circumstances were different - Mars had handed the group off to him, he had not been a conqueror - but who could resist his charm?
He wasn't sure he had time, though. It was a limited resource these days. SummerClan would mount an insurrection. Aspenstar's tenuous grasp on her own sanity was weakening. It wasn't a question of if SummerClan fell, but which force would tear him down first. Did he have time to make alliances, to turn the clan against itself? Should he be making exit plans, or settling in to make friends?
"They'll learn, but I don't want to waste time waiting; their bitterness is so boring," he grumbled. At her offer his ears pricked, and Stormstar glanced at her gratefully.
"Actually, I would love the help. What do you think of these flowers?"
Twilightdance blinked. She wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but a fervent excitement kindled in her as she imagined what he was about to offer, the creeping giddiness only restrained by her imperial disposition. His question seemed teasing more than anything; she thought she’d made her feelings about the vegetation more than clear, but her voice still came in a beguiled gush as she meowed, “They’re lovely.”
Twilightdance couldn’t have imagined the machinations playing in his mind, the Machiavellian calculations he was engaged in. Despite herself, she was beginning to gaze through the looking glass; Summerclan looked like a fairy tale, a magical foreign land, and Stormstar was the quasi-Willie Wonka figure that was leading her through it. She kept her lips pursed, only to keep the smile from budding on her lips, and rested her tail in a trail behind her, on the edge of her proverbial seat to hear what he was going to say next.
