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.
As dawn's light broke, peaking over the mountains and shedding the territories below in it's warm, orange light, a carefree tune could be heard through the forest; the peaceful song being carried by the breeze up towards the barren treetops. Lumbering almost rhymically through the woods, a heavyset chocolate-brown tom marched on, swirving absentmindedly around any trees that stood in his path. The tom's nose was lifted in the air, tracking a peculiar scent dutifully while he hummed, and letting absolutely nothing stand in his way. Occasionally, his apricot gaze would glance around and take in the sights around him; the little patches of melting snow tucked near the protective trunks of tress, tiny shoots of green that peaked out behind dead leaves, and the little sparrows that hopped from branch to branch, carrying twigs and grasses in their tiny beaks. Spring was nearly here, that was for sure.
Finally, he stopped, standing directly in front of a line of trees where the scent he was following was at it's strongest. For a few moments, he strolled back and forth along the treeline, investigating how far the scent trail went, until he stopped again with a broad smile, satisfied. "Yesss sir-ee, that's a land-marker alright," Stumpy meowed to himself, taking a seat on the chilly ground and wrapping his short tail around his paws. "Them rouge fellas didn't steer me wrong, after all. Now all I gotta do is wait here, and sure enough someone will come by eventually. Luckily I ain't got nowhere to be." He chuckled at his own small joke, before peering out into the thick wood just ahead of him, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of movement or life.
"After all this time, I finally won't be lonely no more."
Folklore, a recent addition to fallclan, hailed from a colony of feral cats that had left their mark on him. As only one ear twitched in curiosity, the other missing due to old battles and little medical care. Sharp eyes narrowed as he headed towards the border, the scent of a foreigner easily carried by soft winds to him. "What are you doing sitting around here?" The black tom asked as soon as he pushed into view from the undergrowth. Stalking closer to the invisible boundary but not crossing it, letting Stumpy stay on his side while Folklore stayed on his.
Stumpy's face lit up with hope when he spotted the battle-scarred tom approaching, too optimistic about this new life venture to think much about the other cat's missing ear. "Hello there, stranger," he responded with a friendly, toothy grin. "Would you happen to be one of those clan-folk I've been hearing about? Ya see...I've been livin' out on my own for quite longer than is good for me, and word around these parts is that them clans provide a cozy group life without havin' to resort to petty brawlin' or suckin' up to those hairless upwalkers. So I decided to come here to join one of 'em. Any will do, I just can't stand livin' alone anymore." What he didn't say was that the rouges also mentioned that quite a few of the clans were wary of letting outsiders into their ranks, some outright violent towards them, and that his best chances of getting in were by remaining behind border lines and being as polite as possible. Hopefully, that would do the trick.
Wildhare followed the scent of a few cats, and found Folklore speaking to a cat across the border. He smelled different; definitely not from another clan. He words were spoken weirdly as well. "Well what's going on here?" he asked, a confused look on his face. He was just as interested in the tom as Folklore was.
Stumpy's ears twitched at the sound of a new voice, and he turned to greet the new tom with a pleasant smile. This was working out better than he had thought. "Greetings to ya as well, friend," he meowed, dipping his head politely. "As I was just sayin' to your compatriot 'ere, I've been out lookin' for one of them clans the rouges are always goin' on about. I've been livin' out on my lonesome for the past couple of seasons, and I'd like to change that by joinin' one of 'em." Finished with he speel, he sat up a little straighter, waiting patiently for one of the pair to give him a proper answer.
Wildhare turned his head, barely able to make out anything the loner said. "Well, I don't see why not. FallClan is always welcoming new members. We could take you to our leader, Thrushstar." he said with a smile.
Folklore was glad Wildhare had arrived as he himself was barley able to keep a neutral face. He disliked outsiders, an odd perspective for a former outsider himself to have. But he knew enough to know that there were plenty of cats that would join a clan for protection and continue to wreck havoc. The thought of another outsider coming into Fallclan and causing problems distressed him. The tom not wanting to loose the serenity he had just managed to find.
The look of pure joy on the loner's face was something to behold; the relief obvious as Stumpy let out the breath he had been holding, and dipped his head to the pair of warriors multiple times in thanks. "I thank ya so much. I promise I won't be any trouble or nothin', I'll work real hard an' everything!" The slightly chubby tom rose to his paws, standing eagerly waiting to be led further into the territory, but wasn't about to make any move until given permission to. He had gotten this far already, he can't go mess this up by being reckless. "I'm ready when ya'll are," he meowed, before his orange eyes went wide. "Oh! I reckon I hadn't introduced myself. The name's Stumpy, is'a pleasure to meet'cha."
"Don't get ahead of yourself. Thrushstar has to accept you. So save your speech for him." Folklore spoke up, jaded eyes hard jewels that carved into Stumpy. The long legged tom stood and turned, waving his tail and deciding that now that Wildhare had told the loner they would take him he had no choice but to lead the way. "Follow me then." He sighed as he set a brisk pace, not even bothering to check if the other two were following him.
"Right, right," Stumpy admitted sheepishly as he quickly followed the pair of younger toms into the forest, his ears falling back against his head apologetically. He could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest with every step he took closer to where he guessed the clan lived. What would it be like? Just how many cats lived in a clan? The numbers differed greatly depending on which cat was telling him the story; he had been told everything from small, simple tribes of a dozen or so, to vast armies of hundreds of vicious cats. But the even more important question: would he be accepted? All the various tales agreed on one thing; there was an absolute leader that ruled over each clan, and their word was law. This 'Thrushstar' Folklore mentioned seemed to be that cat.
"Um...I hope y' all don't mind me askin', but...is there anythin' that I absolutely shouldn't do, when talkin' to this leader of yours?"
Wildhare thought for a moment. "I mean, Thrushstar wouldn't expect you to respect our traditions immediately. Heck, you might not even stay. But with training and education, you learn to follow the Warrior's Code. It's a set of rules the Clan lives by." the striped warrior said.
"Just don't say anything outlandish." Folklore drawled, flicking and ear and glanced towards Wildhare. "Like if you've ever killed a cat perhaps don't mention that around him." While the loner didn't seem capable of killing a cat one could never know, and Folklore honestly just wanted to see him sputter.
Wildhare chuckled at the thought of this loner killing another cat. Perhaps in his younger days.. he thought to himself. "Yeah, you should probably not mention anything like that. Just ask questions if you have any, and of course, be respectful." he nodded.
