Warrior Cats Roleplay Games Novels & Stories

Me, Liam and Oliver We went to the same kinder garden, and same school and college, we have been together for a long time and our bond is not something others can break just like that. Alpha Liam and his pack are good with fighting, Alpha Oliver and his werecat pack are good with strategies. I look after the ruling and handling the council. And when we are at war both of their packs play a major role, Werecats plan the war strategy and my pack warriors and black panthers fight the war. All our three packs have a perfect harmony existing together as each other’s supporting system and backbones.

My palms landed on his smooth chest, and I dug in my nails in aggravation. He growled in his throat and flexed his chest muscles beneath my grip. “Did you like that?” I asked. Eying him warily. “Very much.” He swatted the back of one of my buttocks. “Do it again.” *** In his chamber in the tower, Warlord, The Commander of the Mage’s Guild in this wing of the castle glanced at the slave girl in his bed. Bound to one bed post but fast asleep from her exertions. Well warranted asleep.

Then he saw the rust colored fur and the gleaming teeth of the werecat. 'Impossible,' Gelok thought, his eyes widening. 'She can't be . . .' Red had flesh in her teeth, blood on her tongue and punishment on her mind. She had forgotten what it was like . . . the difference between a fight and a war. A fight is a clumsy thing, reserved for back alleys by people with lead pipes and pistols. A battle . . . that was where warriors shone. Battles were chaotic, but there was a serenity about them. Battles were where what you did mattered . . . it was where wars were won.

Cygnus and Izar brought me to the warrior arena so I could shift and let my wolf run—a thing we hadn’t done in a long while. It was a large, round space resembling a colosseum, where the Tarragon warriors usually train. Every Tri-Moon Festival, there’s always a warrior battle, and even they join in, which made me even more excited.

“You’re — you’re normal. I mean, you — you’re a local, and you’re — you’re not —” “Not what? Not a cat? Arik, my father cheated this pack, murdered Ian and Matthew’s cousin — you know, Janet’s nephew? And then tried to set them all up for a pack war with the Kimballs and get us all killed. And yes, you were in on that too, but not the way my dearly fucking departed dad was, okay? I’m human. And a warlock. At least you’re a shifter!” “Fuck you, Nate,” he said, and turned his face away.

ALARIC'S POV The battlefield had become a blur of motion and chaos. The scent of blood, sweat, and fear clung to the air, mixing with the sharp tang of adrenaline. Warriors fought in wolf form, their bodies flashing in the dim light, their howls and growls reverberating through the chaos. The air was thick with tension, the earth shaking beneath the ferocity of their battle. Alaric’s heart pounded as he moved through the battlefield, each step purposeful and calculated. His silver fur gleamed, an unspoken symbol of his power and dominance as the Eclipse Wolf. His eyes, sharp and focused, scanned the horizon, knowing the final showdown was approaching.

Julian growls. He’s the Alpha of the werecat rogues, and so the warrior before part of his Pride here in the Rogue Lands. “They are on their way back. The other wolves state that they ran into problems infiltrating the pack, or at least that’s what had been mind linked to them.” The werecat says.

He leans down to give me a kiss and then asks if he can join us. “Oh of course,” Cat says waving him down. He sits next to me with his arm over the back of my chair. “Ryn you are a warrior right?” she asks him. “Yes ma’am, I am.” he simply says. “The best warrior in the kingdom, according to my brother’s most recent update,” I say as I look at him and I see him smirk. “That doesn’t mean I’m really the best, cause your brother can still kick my ass,” he says.

“I can’t…” “We are the last line of defense Wolf Creek has, Blood Moon has our children, pregnant, young, and elderly safe. Blood Moon warriors are waiting to aid us, we are here to fight for our Alpha who has done nothing but fight and provide for us,” Kitty interrupts me, making me blush and nod my head glad that they already have a plan.

Overflowing hands, not to mention him practically tripping over his own feet. The designation Rourke and I give pets is very much based on personality rather than interest in bestiality or fuzzy type role play. Over the years our tastes have more or less melded in the same way our hell no lists synched when we started. Bestiality and pseudo bestially of pet play being among them. “Mornin’ Sarge,” unlike most, I guess Grimm is used to Rourke’s size. Smiling rather than cowering at the giant that most men piss their pants at.