Warrior Cat Rp Novels & Stories

A silent reminder; you can do this. Damon stepped forward. “Before we begin, I want to make something clear.” I raised an eyebrow. “What?” “I won’t go easy on you because you’re a woman.” I folded my arms. “Good.” A few warriors chuckled. Damon’s lips curved into a smirk. “You’re confident.” “No,” I replied. “I’m just tired of people assuming I’m weak.” His jaw tightened slightly. An older warrior stepped between us. “This is a friendly spar, no killing and no deliberate crippling. The first person unable to continue loses.”

Kate's P.O.V. As I pressed my hand on that warrior’s skin, darkness swallowed me whole. The cold hospital room vanished, replaced by a battlefield drenched in blood. The injured warrior staggered across the ruined courtyard, every breath sounding like broken glass scraping his lungs. His wolf growled fiercely as three rogues surrounded him, attacking at once. Despite his injuries, the warrior refused to retreat. He fought like a man protecting something far more valuable than his own life. Claws collided, and growls shook the air as he managed to throw one rogue into a wall before another ripped across his shoulder.

Kent responded. “Okay then, I guess we have a place to start,” Ryder said. "Do you remember how many fighters he has?” “Not too many,” it was now Peter speaking, “maybe about one hundred to one hundred fifty rogues and about fifty of those are actual warriors that were banished, lone wolves or left their pack voluntarily. “How good are they?” Ryker asked. Peter snorted, “they will be no match for RedFang warriors.” “That’s all I need to know,” Ryker said, clapping and rubbing his hands together. “Caleb, come with me, we have teams to put together four teams to go on and find that asshole. Sorry, Ryder.” Ryker wrinkled his nose.

“There’s a group organizing werewolves from all the packs I destroyed. Some want peace. Others want revenge. If I don’t try to reach the ones who want peace, this is going to escalate into war.” “And you think talking to us will prevent that?” The young man from earlier laughed bitterly. “We’re one small pack. What influence do we have?” “More than you think,” Ryker interjected. “The Alliance respects the Clearwater Pack. You’ve rebuilt without seeking revenge, focused on survival instead of retaliation. That carries weight with the moderate faction.” “The moderate faction,” Marta repeated. “And the other faction? The ones who want blood?” “Led primarily by Alpha James of the Red Dawn Pack,”

Which is the wrong thing to do because a sap of pain on my side, and the world tilts. I grunt as I hit the ground and kick out, satisfied with the oaff I hear. “Christ, keep your fucking head,” Ransom snarks, smashing his fist into a warrior's throat. I shift out my claws and cut at a male's Achilles tendon. With a scream, the warrior drops to the floor. Another warrior drops beside me, his empty eyes looking up at the ceiling. The remaining warrior backs up a few steps before he turns and runs. I give chase only to watch him being torn apart by a shifted wolf.

~Hunter’s Point of View~ I was enjoying my nice, quiet day off soaking in my huge tub. It had been a long week and my brothers and I rotated being on active duty and on call. I was aching for my week off. They were few and far between anymore since it seemed like everyday someone else was being a menace, being difficult. My brothers and I were Shadow Warriors, a coalition of various supernatural beings that keep the peace between each other and between our own kind. It’s a damn hard job, but someone has to do it.

' 'True… I think you’re going to be the main attraction today. It kicks off again. Daxton steps forward, strips all the way down, and walks to the arena before shifting. Liam strips by his chair and shifts too — his wolf is massive, dark brown. Daxton’s is a light grey. Both are big and strong, classic ranked warrior builds. They circle, then launch at each other at the same time.

Followed by a Gamma, whose main function is to protect her. Then follows Mathew, yeah, the name appears in her mind because he is currently holding that title (the head of the warriors) and because she is so proud of him. Next follows the warriors and then the Elders, then the Omegas and, finally, at the bottom of the ranks in the werewolf world, are the Rogues.

He landed in a heap, crumpled like a limp ragdoll from the fall. "You always underestimated me, Rory Roth," I said, standing to my feet. I took a defensive, powerful stance as my eyes never tore away from him "But now it's time for me to show you what a strong warrior I have become, your playtime is over," Rory sat up, his eyes wide and filled with panic, his plan had failed, and he realised he had been defeated. "This isn't over yet, brat," Rory said weakly, and it was then I watched him shift into his wolf.

Hearing battle cries from over near the packhouse, Mikhail decided to thank his rescuers later as he swiftly changed directions, howling his fury at the mangy rogues daring to enter their territory. The Howling Warriors were experienced fighters, and as Mikhail came upon the scene, he was pleased to find that they were dominating the fight against the rogues. But there were still more casualties that he could see, and their medical supplies were going to be sorely depleted at this rate. A growl from behind caused Mikhail to swing around in a defensive position, and in his moment of distraction, a large grey wolf had managed to sneak up on him. The rogue wore his battle scars with pride, and