Disclaimer: Only the reconizeable characters belong to BJ, any unreconizeable, belong to me and Billios, please consult us before using them.
At long last, here it is! For future reference, I (Billios) am writing all Skyborne parts (or parts around Skyborne, as in the first chapter) whilst PH writes all the awesome Chillaxiness. Anyway, here ya go...
well, what if the people want to hear from me too? geez, hogging the limelight are you? anywhooze, yeah, hope you enjoy! and please give us your honest opinion on it!
--gently fixes spelling error-- opinion has one p, not two, PH dear...
A dry wind swept
over the western shore, lifting particles of sand into dancing
whirlwinds. A crab sat dozing, half in and half out of a tidepool,
and snapping lazily at a shrimp that kept tickling his claw.
Swooping overhead, a lone gull emitted a harsh cry that soon faded into the stillness of midday. Quietly, the waves broke on the tideline, hardly upsetting the sandy expanse. A ship ground into the shoreline, bringing the fuss and bustle of the crewbeasts with it: a jarring sound against the peaceful silence that had reigned a moment before.
The crab scuttled into its den and watched the ship cautiously.
With authority, the captain strode toward the stern of the ship and observed his surroundings with a practiced eye. Grinning maliciously, he noted Salamandastron in the distance and ordered his crew ashore.
Sunstripe looked out of his chamber window. An unexplainable uneasiness had come over him that day, causing his wife, Ceyla, to ask many worried questions.
There was a timid knock on the door; Sunstripe grunted noncommittally. A pretty young hare stepped in and gave a nervous curtsy.
"Lady Ceyla wants you to come to luncheon, m'lord," she said.
Sunstripe sighed and turned away from the window.
"Very well, then," he said. "Tell her I will be down shortly."
"Yes, m'lord," she said, backing out quickly and shutting the door.
Sunstripe stayed a few moments longer at the window, but still saw nothing. Changing out of yesterday's clothes –he knew Ceyla would have his head if he didn't– he started down the stairs to join his wife.
He was almost to the bottom of the staircase leading to the dining hall when a middle-aged trim looking hare fell in step with him. Sunstripe was silent, hoping to discourage conversation, but the hare didn't notice the subtle hint.
"Nice day, wot?" he said cheerfully, whistling a little.
Sunstripe said nothing.
"What's the matter sah? Cat got your tongue?" he jested.
"No, Moge," Sunstripe said evenly.
Moge became serious as he asked,
"Then what's the jolly problem? Nimblerose came to me, trembling like a leaf, begging for me to deliver Lady Ceyla's message. By the left, sah! Pardon me to blinkin' pieces for saying, but if you are frightening the confounded maidens, there must be something bally well wrong!"
Stamping his footpaw to emphasize his point, the hare misjudged the location of the next stair and stepped heavily in midair.
Sunstripe raised his eyes heavenward as Moge tumbled unceremoniously down the last few steps, landing in an undignified heap.
Sunstripe passed the hare and walked into the dining hall.
The fog was settling down as a silver wolf looked over the battlefield. Bodies were strewn over the blood stained grass in a wide valley, flowers that had just only come up were trampled down from the gruesome charge. The wolf looked over the pitiful remains of his previously large horde. As his eyes swept over the weasels, stoats, rats, and even a few foxes, he took in the deep gashes and wounds they had received in the strenuous battle that had taken place only an hour ago against a particularly numerous otter tribe. "Sweeptail, what's the report?" He asked to a slender fox.
"About half dead, three score injured, m'lord." Half, half of his mighty horde of two hundred slew by measly otters. His hatred for the creatures ran deep, and since the incident that happened when he was a pup, he despised them. And this event made him all the more enraged. He watched as members of his horde went to find the missing bodies of their mates and blood brothers. Several were even crying.
"Blackroot, me mate, wake up, tell us yer just sleeping!"
"Numbtooth, me brother, I'll slay 'em dirty riverdogs if'n it's the last thing I'll do t' 'venge yew!" The wolf rolled his eyes at the pitiful creatures who wailed over the bodies of lost ones. Not for the first time he wished that there were more wolves like himself around, most of them just stayed in their pack and didn't wish to go conquering. They were perfectly content. But then he came along. He was always a feisty pup his mother told him, beating up his littermates and causing mayhem wherever he set his paw. Nothing could keep the warrior in him down.
His father told him that he was warrior born, fighting all the time. And that when he was only a few seasons old he had his first kill, a young otter that had strayed to far from the river. He thrived on the taste of fresh meat; whenever he was stuck with something else he was unhappy. In time he grew up to be a strong wolf, easily the head of his litter. His father was very pleased with the progress of his son, and started training him to take over the pack when he passed on. But this was not what he wanted, no, he was a restless soul. Always wanting to be on the move, wanting to slay, wanting to be a warlord.
Greenfang, the alpha, saw this and tried his best to discourage his son. But all to no avail, it was in his nature, thus he let his son have his own lead way and let him do as he pleased. He tried to convince others to leave with him, but no one wanted to leave the safety of the pack. Cowards! He called them. Fools! But still no one would listen to him.
As he looked back in his memory he recalled how he had challenged many to duels, but he remembered the first the most. The fox was big, and he carried a giant battle axe, when he triumphed over him, he took the axe and used it as his own, changing his name from Oakpaw to something more suiting, Chillaxe.
Chillaxe was snapped out of his reverie by the pawsteps of one of his captains, Ragface the stoat, coming up towards him.
"What're we t' do now cap'n?" he asked carefully.
"Break camp, we're going West."
"Aye." And he went off to spread the word. Look out West, Chillaxe Otterbane is coming!
didn't you just love that? --sniff, sniff-- anyways, Billios has a good point down there--looks for point down button but finds none-- darn
We'll never know if ya like it if ya don't review!
up there bwah haha