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 decadeβs 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.
[ CONTEXT: This is a 'past sequence' thread. Sakriven stumbles his way into Primal Instinct territory, raw and bleeding, with infected slice wounds on his face under the mask he refuses to remove. The trauma of just recently losing his parents and facing off against their murderers is still fresh in his mind. He needs someone to take him to the shaman. If he could also find a friend or two, that'd be amazing! ]
@samiam β tagging you so that it's in your queue
He could still hear their hollow gasps, the sound of liquid trapped in their lungs, rapidly filling, even as the light in their eyes grew brighter and their expressions took on a severe tone the like of which he'd never witnessed on them before. His mother, clutching desperately to him, far more distressed about the idea of his not taking her words seriously than her own swiftly approaching demise.
"The Brotherhood cannot pass on with us. You are the last remaining heir of the Adevar family. The survival of the creed belongs to you. Promise me, through the shadows, you will defend the Adevar name."
I promise. The black tom continued to the best of his ability forward in the lands he had never once traversed before, blearily gazing around himself, hoping for any sign of life β and that said life would either put an end to his misery or offer him aid.
"Swear that on your life you will defend the creed and further lead the legacy of our family toward ascension."
I swear. Riven collapsed, the echoes of his fallen mother's words and his own solemn vows ringing in his ears as he stared across the undergrowth until crimson swallowed his vision, blood streaming down his face into his eyes.
"Where others blindly follow the truth, remember..."
Nothing is true.
"Where others are limited by morality or law, remember..."
Everything is permitted.
"We work in the dark to serve the light."
Eyes slipping closed, he allowed the waning light from the setting sun to lull him into a light rest.
Post by strawberrycupid on Jan 16, 2021 21:33:12 GMT -5
The city was a mess. Usually was, but was especially now that twolegs had started taking it over. Rosalia-kun walked through the streets, not wearing any sort of accessory or fur paint. Just their pale white pelt like a sheet shine through and dark eyes like the sunken sockets in a skull. Their supplies were gone, and they were in a rut. Artistically, but also like emotionally. It was the first kind of emotional distress they could think they had, and it made them shutter.
Rosalia-kun would have kept walking, lost in their own daze when a thunk from a side alley caught their attention. Eyes narrowing, they approached the alley, a few rats darting past her and out into the light. It only made them more confused, but when they walked into the alley, they were shocked to find the body of a cat with a mask. Admittedly, their attention first went to the mask, paws brushing against it gently. They could do a better job. But this cat was on the verge of death. The League wouldn't care for another mouth, they knew that. Rosalia-kun though, was not one to leave someone like this. They squeezed themselves under the cat, gently carrying them on their back.
The jostling from the maneuver onto the she-catβs back was enough to bring him to semi-consciousness. The black tom blinked his eyes open to blearily look around, disoriented and confused. He glanced to the side, noticing the earth was indeed moving beneath him. Was he dead? Then he heard the grunting of struggle and his heart started to race.
βWho...β He croaked, sighing at the end. He was too tired to form coherent sentences and the blood pooling under his mask was making it hard to speak anyway.
Post by strawberrycupid on Jan 25, 2021 14:00:35 GMT -5
"Rosalia was wondering the same." Rosalia-kun spoke frankly, their voice holding strain from carrying the larger tom. They wanted to hurry up so they could put the tom down, but also didn't have the strength to go any faster. So it was a trot the pair travelled, the blood that dripped out staining their pelt. "Worry about it later. Focus on living for now." They should have been fighting to keep the masked tom conscious, but they didn't know that. So Rosalia-kun focused more on each step they took.
The tom only spent a moment focusing on the odd way in which the she-cat spoke before he winced and closed his eyes, the sensation of wetness on his face bothering him immensely but the pain far outweighing the discomfort. He was feeling light-headed, the desire to succumb to any sense of peace increasing by the minute.
Briefly he pondered if he should be fighting for his life for a very different reason than the wounds underneath the mask he half-hazardly placed. He had no idea where she was taking him, who she was, and what she planned to do with him once they got there. For all he knew, she was one of those bizarre spiritual cats he heard of in the clans that resided far, far away, who believed themselves to manipulate powers as though they were gods themselves. Would she experiment on him? Torture him? Or would she heal him enough to comfortably leave him to die without any strain of guilt, if she had any?
That was the best option, in his opinion. At least then he might be able to drag himself away and pass on in peace.
Inhaling a deep breath, feeling as though his lungs hadn't taken in any proper oxygen for some time, his form went limp, succumbing to blood loss.
It felt like only a few hours later when he awoke with a start, blinking blearily. There was still the sight of blood around the rims of his vision, as though he were looking through a screen that was absorbing the crimson liquid. At least he was able to move his head, though.
"Where am I..." He murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
Post by strawberrycupid on Jan 28, 2021 16:26:42 GMT -5
Rosalia-kun had brought him to Tempest, laying in a heap next to the entrance of the makeshift Shaman den. The original greenhouse was left in shards of glass, and the new den was barely big enough to house all three of them. But Rosalia was more glad their back was free, they kept standing up and stretching it no matter how many times Tempest told them to stop.
Their ears flicked when the stranger spoke up, and Rosalia stood to approach them. "Ah, you're conscious. Good. You're in the Shaman's den. Duh." @samiam
Riven blinked. This, it would seem, was going to be a day of firsts. After so long, this young she-cat β Rosalia, he recalled vaguely β was the first to not look at him in fear or suspicion. And she was so young! He didn't exactly have the best track record with anyone younger than himself β though, he was sure others would argue, if they still could, that he didn't have much of a talent for carrying on with... anyone.
He would've sat and pondered on his new lease on life longer if not for the splitting headache building behind his eyes.
"What's a shaman." He deadpanned in a sigh, closing his eyes, in no mood to riddle through a new world's entire collection of cultural concepts and hierarchy. He did briefly wonder, though: was this where Rosalia's strays went to be tortured? Over the pungent odor of his own dried blood in his nose, he could recognize the smell of blood elsewhere.
Post by strawberrycupid on Feb 2, 2021 23:52:34 GMT -5
Rosalia-kun's brow furrowed. "It's the healer. Gee, Rosalia does not think they bumped your head on something." The white cat's face scrunched up in thought before her attention was drawn to something behind her.
The black tom furrowed his brow in confusion at the young she-cat's bizarre language before his attention was drawn in the direction of hers. He blinked, faced with a few paths to head down. Stoic, playful, or pleading. Riven wasn't one to beg anyone for anything, including his life. The Adevar patriarch couldn't remember the last time he'd been sarcastic or teasing with anyone, let alone a stranger.
"Are you the healer this Rosalia's spoken of?" He narrowed his eyes, shifting his weight so he could sit up somewhat.
