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.
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
2,314 posts
Post by achromatic on May 30, 2022 15:00:48 GMT -5
After the little raid NightClan attempted, Bermondsey's attitude had been stifling, to say the least. They had lost a couple of their own, buried them by the ancient oak on the outskirt of their territory, and while things had resumed, back to the way it was, Bermondsey's sour attitude had not shifted back to his normal one.
If anything, it was only worse. He knew others tiptoed around, but he was frustrated, that a bunch of stupid clan cats had gotten the element of surprise and happened to even get this far. There was nothing that would stop him from getting Kier in the end; the tom's expression was glowering, it was this concentrated darkness that happened beyond the facade he constantly put on. The nemesis was plotting something, and surely, he'd get what he want eventually.
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POSTEDMay 30, 2022 17:54:15 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
Canna had not come out of the fight unharmed; of course, she didn't. She could barely make it through a normal day without pissing someone off enough that they added a new scar to her coat. As soon as she was aware of what was going on, she had jumped in with a hyena's cackle, completely oblivious to everything but the heat of the fight. She loved a good fight, and, unlike the Nemesis, she didn't seem bothered that they'd been taken off guard.
"So you lost the battle," she meowed, even though she wasn't entirely sure that was the truth - she didn't know about this fickle conflict between the League and NightClan, she'd never been one to care about silly politics and the war between the two groups seemed to have been brewing for most of the last year, a game of chicken started too long ago for her to concern herself with its true origins. "It happens, doll face. And just cuz you don't win the battle doesn't mean you can't win the war."
It took a certain amount of gall, she supposed, to strut up to an angry leader and be so cavalier, speak with such casual honesty, but what was the worst he could do, yell at her? He wouldn't be the first. "But I'm sure you know that, don't you? Of course you do."
Post by achromatic on May 30, 2022 18:39:33 GMT -5
He swore he'd never let pride get to his head, but even he was prone to the whims of the face he refused to lose. There was that desire, that need to prove that the league was more than just a group of ragtag rogues; he wanted their empire back. He wanted the clans to fear them, to be able to rule with an iron fist, and to make sure nothing ever challenged them.
Of course he knew this was not going to be without a challenge, but it was terribly embarrassing, to be caught off-guard by some bratty kids who somehow knew how to find their way along the mansion, and to have seen his son again, just briefly, in the thick of things, made his paranoia grow. He'd never believe it if anyone else said it, but was it Laertes who gave them all away? Certainly not, right? He wasn't all so sure, and while Eshek made him promise to keep the curse talk to a minimum, he couldn't help but have the inkling that the curse truly was making its rounds again.
"It's not about the battle," he gritted out, green gaze towards this newcomer who seemed too bold for his own liking, "it's the fact that we were so caught off guard, and how lazy we've been since we moved back into the forest. Some kits and apprentices got the better of us; there's something to be said about that."
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POSTEDMay 30, 2022 21:11:20 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
"Well, yeah, you've got a point there. Pretty pathetic, if we're being honest with each other," she meowed before letting out a long yawn and falling into a deep stretch. Hadn't she just been trying to comfort him? Once she made sure to stretch every muscle group, she looked back at Bermondsey. "But, hey. At least you know that half of your group was a bunch of babies and the other half hasn't trained in six moons. There's a bright side to everything, champ." She tipped her head, as if to think about what she said. "Maybe that's a little harsh. Err, well, the whole kitten thing. That's what makes it complicated." Canna shrugged, before blinking her slightly-too-wide orange eyes. "But, really. What's the old adage, turn your greatest weaknesses into your greatest strengths? With enough elbow grease, I'm sure you can turn this ship around. It's about time someone does, ya know. See, maybe it was good to get pushed around a bit; maybe it'll light a fire under some of these cats' asses to get it together."
Canna spoke like she'd been a long term member of the League, and, well, it was complicated. Technically, she hadn't. She was a new recruit, one who had landed in Primal Instinct sometime recently. However, even though she hadn't been a full-fledged member, she was the daughter of Shae. Shae, the League-member-turned-rogue-turned-Toxicity-deputy-turned-Absum-Lux-Leader-with-A-Vendetta-Against-Her-First-Home, Shae the one that, until the very last moments of her life, demanded that her resident caretaker (Canna, the lastborn, had been unwittingly given the task) keep casual tabs on the group (it was her least favorite task her deranged mother put her up to, re: not particularly interested in politics). Something about if she ever got the chance, she'd start another war with them (it would be her second or third). Of course, Shae was dead now, so it was safe to say the old loon had never gotten the chance. Her death did, though, leave Canna without purpose, which led to her joining herself. So, Canna might not know the specifics of whatever petty disagreements they had, but she knew enough, generally speaking, to know that it had been a while since Primal Instinct had been on the top of the food chain. At one time, she'd witnessed Primal Instinct nearly slaughter Shae simply because her mother had picked the wrong night to cause a scene, and now, well. What more was there she needed to know?
It was then that she offered him a playful wave of her tail. "I'm Canna, by the way. It truly is a pleasure to meet you, I'm like, totally a fan."
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
2,314 posts
Post by achromatic on Jun 5, 2022 18:16:29 GMT -5
She was a strange cat; he didn't know why she spoke as if she knew the place so well, especially when he knew she wasn't a familiar face around these parts. There was always a chance that she was a returner like himself. "You talk a lot for a cat who has nothing to show for," he replied, eyeing her with a frown. It wasn't a statement to be cruel or condescending; he was simply stating the facts. He knew nothing about her, nothing that would prove her cleverness, nor her strategy, nor any ability that could be beneficial to himself. He chuckled to himself. "Usually when cats give me advice, they have some sort of reference, something to show for, to prove that their advice has some sort of value."
Still, he'd entertain this conversation. "Bermondsey, but I assume you already knew that, being a total fan," he replied in his usual deadpan. There was a value in being an outsider, a cat who was looking from the outside rather than the inside at least. There were weaknesses he knew of–cats were simply less bloodthirsty, less motivated, there wasn't enough struggle to force them to push against one another, and that was what he had wanted to change–but there were certainly blindspots of his own.
"What would you say is the weakest point?" he spoke offhandedly, whether voicing his own thoughts aloud or genuinely asking Canna a question, that was unclear.
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POSTEDJun 5, 2022 22:03:42 GMT -5 TO primal instinct
"Eh, I'm pretty sure my reference wouldn't mean too much to you. You look too close to my age to remember my mother," she meowed with a passive shrug. "It's a long story, but trust me, I know more about this place than I should." It felt like a bad idea to mention the fact that she'd basically been tasked with spying on the group since the day she was old enough to travel by herself. "Suffice it to say, my mom grew up here." Her tone was slightly clipped when she referenced her mother, a slight tension registering in her body language. "What can I say, though? Vague relationship or not, I see a lot, and I like to call it like I see it."
Canna then nodded casually. "Yep, Bermondsey, you followed up good old Reggie. Between you and I, he was a little too... relaxed for my taste." She paused for a moment, offering an embarassed half-smile. "Not to talk badly about the departed," she then added with an awkward laugh. "As for the greatest weakness, well," she paused, tipping her head for a moment as if she was thinking. "I guess that depends on your style. If you're a law-and-order guy, they probably lack discipline. If you're not, well, their biggest weakness is that they've lost that fear factor they once had. There was a time that a group like NightClan wouldn't dare to attack. But, that's what happens when you've been led by cats who were either too relaxed or too involved in inter clan politics to notice that the other clans in the forest no longer trembled when they walked into a gathering."
She then shook her head. "But that's just me, and like you so nicely implied, who am I? What I'm curious, Bermondsey, is what you think it is?"
He'd probably agree with her; he had no idea who her mother was and he was in no hurry to know. All cats eventually revealed what they thought was important information he needed to know after all; if she was important to this conversation in any way, he was certain she'd make it known. Despite being alive for longer than most, he had spent years in isolation away from the clans, living off the land in solitude. Whatever she had been in a past life, whatever her family was, Bermondsey didn't know and he certainly had less reason to care, but the clipped tone as she referenced her mother made his lips twitch.
He could understand, after all, a complicated parental relationship. Couldn't they all?
They certainly did lack discipline; he had known this since he rejoined, as he watched them squabble about who was fed first back in the city. There was bureaucracy with no action, there was hunger with no will. Cats didn't fight for the right to sit at the very top; no, they had gotten complacent over the years with taking the scraps. Had he? Had he gotten complacent too, allowing himself to be tossed to the side, refering to others to take leadership?
Bermondsey didn't doubt himself often, but he wasn't arrogant enough to think he was clever or more powerful than anyone else, and yet in the battle, there were moments when it seemed like he was the only one in the midst of it all. There were cats who died with no fight in them at all, and gods, he hoped they were ashamed of themselves in hell.
"They lack drive," he spoke dully, "there's no will to live. When a famine comes, the cats fattened up for the slaughter, who've lived too easy to know struggle, only know how to despair and die. Those who are left have seen death, they have things to fight for, they struggle and claw their way out of the pit to live. There's nothing more dangerous than a cat who's hungered before, who has seen their kits hunger, for they've looked death in the eye and they no longer know fear, only survival."
He snorted. "I believe most of us haven't hungered enough to know what it means to fight for life itself."
