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The Undecided

Started by The Skarzs, January 25, 2017, 10:24:03 PM

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The Skarzs

  Darrin woke up from his slumber to a cold morning, and he rolled over and sat up, quickly noticing that one of his group had let the fire die during the night. He tried not to get angry that they would have to have a cold breakfast that day, but it was hard to do when he just woke up.
  Standing up, the ferret went about, kicking his motley band awake.
  "Alright, you lot, get up! We didn't get as far as we could have yesterday, and since there won't be time to get a decent fire going, we're gonna start marchin' early today."
  A weasel by the name of Grimin moaned in agony as he opened his eyes. "I didn't get no sleep, mate! Give us a little more time t'rest!"
  Darrin looked hard at Grimin. "Alright, we can rest longer." He spoke up again before the group's collective sigh of gratitude had subsided. "But that just means we'll be hanging by our feet skinless when Hacklaw catches up with us! No, we aren't resting longer, we're putting as much distance between that sadist and ourselves!"
  Grimin shot a nasty look at his leader. "Well if you had just given the stuff back to 'im like I said you should, we could still be in the Southlands."
  "Sure, like Hacklaw's the type o' beast who'll just let us return stolen items." Darrin clasped his paws together and fluttered his eyelashes. "'Oh, I'm so sorry for stealing these, I didn't know how important they were to you! Here you go!' 'Thank you, Darrin, and I'm going to completely forgive you for stealing and for letting two of your creatures insult me. Here, have some wine.'" The ferret spat. "Frog feathers!"
  He turned to Marshall, the only fox in his small band. "Alright, Blue, hand out the rations so we c'n get goin'."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  "Excellent, excellent!" Abbot Gerard walked out of the kitchens, wiping steam from his spectacles and setting them back onto the bridge of his nose. He stepped out of the way as a barrel of October ale came thundering through Cavern Hole from the cellars. Food preparations were going well, considering that the Springday feast wasn't for several hours, but it was of no concern to the mouse. He didn't want a repeat of the previous spring feast, which had several setbacks with burnt dishes and broken tables, so he wanted to be extra careful that this feast would be one to remember in the abbey records.
  After all, it was a unique time there at Redwall, with the otters being away on something or another, so the abbey seemed somewhat drained of creatures. However, worry was far from Gerard's mind, as the otters tended to do that every once in a while, and they had always managed without them.
  The mouse wandered about the abbey, smiling at friends he recognized as he searched for the Abbey Warrior, Elijah, to talk to him about catching a fish from the abbey pond.
Cave of Skarzs

Cave potato.

Ashleg

Twisty groaned as he was kicked awake, rolling over to watch as, past the dead fire, Darrin was berating Grimin again.
The brown rat sat up and began buttoning his coat.
He remarked with a shudder and a yawn, "Whoever let th' fire die is a big fool. T'wasn't you, Grimin, was it?"

Groddil

#2
Elijah Firetail stood on the vast green lawn, by the north wall. He looked sombrely at a hotroot plant that was growing there, winding itself around a tombstone.
"You know how it is, Aylan. Once onebeast leaves, another comes to take their place. Good thing you liked hotroot, huh?"
He sighed.
"I know I say this every day, but since I've come here... I don't know. I kind of miss being out there. With family."
He looked over his shoulder, at a few dibbuns playing by the steps.
"I consider everybeast here family, sure, but there's always a part of me that wishes that chief had killed me. I stabbed him in the back while he killed you. Is that honourable? Of course not. Back when mother was alive, she told me to watch over my things. She said 'there is no honour among thieves.' Maybe there's just no honour at all. Hellgates, I miss her. We should have gone together, you know. Being the last one here..."
The otter wiped away a single tear.
"I think if it wasn't for this place, I would have ended it all many seasons ago. But they need me. That's why we haven't seen each other in so long. I can't just leave. Can't leave them alone."
Elijah unsheathed his sword and turned it over in his paws.
"That's why. As long as they let me have this, I'm bound to them. Bound to protect them. Maybe I didn't throw away my honour that day you died. While I carry this sword, I guess I still have it. I never broke my promise to you. I did exactly what you asked. Maybe this is just another promise."
The Abbey Warrior re-sheathed the Sword of Martin, nodded respectfully at the grave, and walked back towards the main building.

The Skarzs

Quote from: Ashleg on January 25, 2017, 10:33:16 PM
Twisty groaned as he was kicked awake, rolling over to watch as, past the dead fire, Darrin was berating Grimin again.
The brown rat sat up and began buttoning his coat.
He remarked with a shudder and a yawn, "Whoever let th' fire die is a big fool. T'wasn't you, Grimin, was it?"
"Doesn't matter who it was," said Darrin. "Jus' get movin'."
  The ferret pulled a piece of a stale biscuit from his pocket and chewed on it as he watched the others all find their way onto their feet. They weren't a bad bunch, but Darrin wondered why he took on some of these creatures sometimes. Twisty had a dead paw, Marshall was flipping blue, and he counted at least three that didn't like listening to him. Overall, though, he guessed it wasn't too much trouble leading the group of twenty. . . Darrin groaned inside his head. That's right; it was seventeen now after the three were killed by Hacklaw. It was too bad, really. . . they were some of the better fighters.
  "Oi, Blue," he called to Marshall. "How's the amount of rations?"

OOC: You guys can control NPCs like Grimin and the Abbot if you want.
Cave of Skarzs

Cave potato.

Gonff the Mousethief

Marshall was alwasy a heavy sleeper. Had it not been for Grimin pouting about, the fox may have never woken. But as it was, he was forced up by his duty. Upon the first call he simply cocked an ear to his leader, but at the second request he managed to find the bag which contained the group's supply of rations. With a quick count on his blue ways, he tuned to Darrin,
"Bigger breakfast or lunch? Seems we got 'nough biscuits and berries we picked up for now, but not a whole lot of anything else for lunch. Your call mate."
I want the world of Tolkien,
The message of Lewis;
The adventure of Jacques,
And the heart of Milne.
But I want the originality of me.



Ashleg

Twisty pointed his good paw at Marshall and remarked dryly, "Damien's not yer mate, idjit, 'e's th' leader and that's it. Now gimme those vittles!"

Gonff the Mousethief

"Oh, so a simple touch o' being polite is too much for ye, is it now? Well, sorry soul ye be, 'mate'. And don't be demaning any vittles 'till Darrin tells ye."
He turned once again to his leader and repeated the question.
"Light or heavy?"
I want the world of Tolkien,
The message of Lewis;
The adventure of Jacques,
And the heart of Milne.
But I want the originality of me.



The Skarzs

  Darrin waved his paw. "Go ahead and go heavy. Lunch'll be light today."

OOC: Let's not drag this on too long.
Cave of Skarzs

Cave potato.

LT Sandpaw

#8
 "Halt, all of ye, by the bloody whiskers, someone bring me those sorry excuses for scouts!"
Pawsore and weary some three hundred vermin practically fell to their tails, pulling off packs and laying down weapons. Many of them had heavily blistered paws, and moaned their sorrows quietly to their neighbors. Hacklaw had been pushing them harder then he had ever pushed them before. In circles. All night. For miles.

The 'scouts', a pair of squinty eyed weasels were dragged into Hacklaw's presence. The two prostrated themselves, trembling before the massive stoat wisely holding their silence.

Hacklaw was dressed in his barbaric finery, furs of defeated enemies, feathers from birds, and gleaming armor covered his muscular form, weighing as much if not more then the heaviest packs carried by his underlings. In his left paw he carried a massive halberd that he leaned on like a walking stick. Hacklaw took his time, leaving the two weasels in suspense as he drank from a canteen, allowing the water to spill down his chin and neck.

"Ye see this tree me good and loyal scouts? A plain, and sturdy oak, nothing really outstanding or significant about it, but oh, what's this hm?" He ran his paw along the length of the tree's trunk, tracing a damaged part in the bark where a large blade had been sunk nearly ten inches into the wood. "Is that a mark from me halberd? Well what do ye know, that's astonishing."

The scouts squirmed in dismay, still holding their tongues as they waited for Hacklaw's wrath to descend upon them.

"Why," Hacklaw asked, his voice rising in volume with every word. "Did we march all night, following our own tacks!? How ditheringly stupid do ye have to be to mistake an entire horde's path for that of a single bloody ferret and his gang! I've tracked dragonflies, across still water on a moonless night ye know, I saw immediately what was happening! Lucky I did or you might have done it again. I'd reckon ye two couldn't find yer own tails if they were chopped off and handed to ye!" The stoat halted his outburst, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Say, that's an idea. What do ye think Darktooth?" The stoat referred to his second in command, glancing lazily towards the ferret officer.


"Sometimes its not about winning, but how you lose." - John Gwynne

"Facts don't care about your feelings." -Ben Shapiro

Groddil

Darktooth scratched his ear with an arrow.
"Mmm... They's not too useful, boss. Hardly a threat to anybeast, be that us or them no good, double-timin' mercs. Can't 'ave weaklin's, can we? Gotta weed 'em out. Let th' strong survive, ey boss? I reckons we do jus' dat. An' if dey still can't find da mercs... I fink we cin 'ave some fun wiff 'em. Well, fun fer us. Not too fun fa dem..."
The ferret chuckled, prodding one of the scouts with the arrow.
"What d'ya think o' dat, fat face? Would ya like yer tails chopped off? Or yer 'eads?"

Ashleg

OOC-
Spoiler
IC-
Twisty glared at Marshall but didn't say anything, knowing better.
"We gon' go soon?" The rat asked as he shot a glance at Damien. "That Hacklaw addlebrain is probably creepin' up on us'n's right now."

Gonff the Mousethief

The blue fox nodded to his leader, then dove into the bag. He quickly pulled out the biscuits and an even amount of berries and roots for the group. Within the minute, most of it was distributed. Marshall however, sneaked himself a couple of extra berries in the process. He was pretty lanky as it was, so a little more woulnd't hurt.

Upon hearing Twisty, the fox nodded in agreement.
"Aye, does feel a bit eerie 'round these parts."
I want the world of Tolkien,
The message of Lewis;
The adventure of Jacques,
And the heart of Milne.
But I want the originality of me.



LT Sandpaw


"Our tails, don' take our 'eads great one" the two weasels moaned in unison, groveling before the stoat and ferret. Hacklaw seemed in deep consideration, ignoring the simpering that was happening at his footpaws and speaking first to his officer.

"Aye, a fair point Darktooth, a fair point indeed. I cannot have lackers or fools leading my army in circles. An example must be made, perhaps it will discourage further failure, on their part and on the part of others. Ready your sword Darktooth, and up ye come weasels." Grabbing the two culprits by their tails Hacklaw lifted them bodily, one in each paw. Such was his height that he only had to raise his arms somewhat above his head to keep the weasels entirely off the ground; their noses brushing the lush grass that grew there. Hacklaw prided himself for his immense strength, often putting on such displays of raw power to intimidate potential rivals in his horde. Stories often grew, and soon ratwifes could be whispering to vixens about how he lifted ten fat weasels with a single paw. Hacklaw didn't stop the stories, often encouraging the tales to the point of absurdity.

The two condemned creatures pleaded for their life and tail as one might expect, but Hacklaw continued to ignore them, nodding for Darktooth to proceed.


"Sometimes its not about winning, but how you lose." - John Gwynne

"Facts don't care about your feelings." -Ben Shapiro

The Skarzs

  "Yeh, as soon as we're done eatin'." Darrin looked around at Marshall's comment. "I don't know, I think it's actually pretty nice here. What's so eerie about it?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  Abbot Gerard opened the big doors of the abbey and stepped out onto the path, still looking for Elijah Firetail. He spotted the otter coming from the north side of the abbey towards the main building across the lightly frosted grass, and he waved his paw in greeting and called out to the Abbbey Warrior.
  "Good morning, Elijah!"
Cave of Skarzs

Cave potato.

Ashleg

Twisty snorted.
He was itching to go, so he butted in on their conversation again. "We're being 'unted down, Darrin, what isn't eerie? If we're not outta here soon, I'm leavin'."