A/N: This is a segment of a roleplaying thread at Fort Ruddler's RPG boards. This one is a huge IC mission roleplayed out by many different players. I haven't edited anything (spelling, grammar, tense, post order, etc) yet, and I might not get around to it for a while simply because this is such a long thread. I hoe you can still follow it.
The only character I wrote the part of was Riala, although NPCs such as Loam and the hedgehog tribe and the leveret were written mostly by me, occasionally by other people. Many of the other roleplayers simply stopped roleplaying, and so towards the end the only people still roleplaying were myself, Mackbry, and Moonrose.
Wayside Patrol – Arrival at Loam's Tribe
The leaves of both trees shuffled
together as one of the branches began to bow down. Cinder's footing was
beginning to give way before he leapt forward. He easily landed in the next
tree and continued his quick pace across the treetops.
Cinder had gotten
a ways ahead of the rest of the patrol, but nothing was going to stop him after
he freed himself from the confining ground. It had been a while since his last
run through the forest, and he was enjoying every second.
He saw a clearing
up ahead, and came to a halt in a tree along its edge.
A vast golden
plain stretched before him to the north. A short ways off the northeast a line
of hills sat before the great northern mountain range. The hills cast their
long shadows over the mountain range, as the last few crimson rays of sunlight
skimmed over their tops.
In the distance,
Cinder saw two small hedgehogs running for the base of a hill. When they got
there, they were shooed in a small door by a lager hedgehog waving a large
ladle, no doubt the mother of the dibbuns.
The murmurs of
conversations mixed with the crunching of leaves and sticks, announced the
arrival of the rest of the patrol. Cinder made his way out of the tree and
bumped into his partners, Mack and Rook, who were towards the front of the pack.
He quickly apologized before announcing to everyone about his sighting.
"S'cuse me
Mack! I spotted Loam's tribe living at the base of one of the hills off to the
northeast. Shouldn't take us long to get there."
*Deathjaw's ears perked up at this. To
him, their short trek had seemed like miles long, and all the while time ticked
slowly as he worried about the well-being of his nephew. Almost there,
buck-o, he told himself. An' Bludfur'll be safe. He will. Wiping all
other thoughts from his mind, the ash-coloured creature pushed his way to the
front of the traveling group, like a moving wall, knocking everyone and
everything out of the way in his mad accent.*
"Well, what
'er we waitin' fer? Le's go!" the monsterous canid bellowed as he broke
into a sprint.
*He's safe,
he'll be okay, he'll be there... the voices echoed their eternal phrase in
his rampant mind. Already the beast was way out in front of the group, but all
other thoughts were drowned out by the incessent whispers that made his head
throb. The humongous canine moved at an alarming speed, loping along the soft
grounds. This was his terrain, and he was going to use it. He picked up speed,
his sinewy muscles contracting with each pull and rippling under his matted
hide. He wanted to be the first there, he wanted the hedgepigs to see the
enraged terror that was he, those demonic spikedogs that took his Bloodfur
away.*
*She had been watching him ever since
they started their hike. The albino was keenly aware that the arrogent hedgehog
dibbun stayed close to her side, mumbling incoherant things, but she paid him
no heed. Just as long as he stayed away from that... 'yote'. She stayed a few
yards behind him, watching him as he strode off, his head and shoulders
towering over the other beasts. She caught the faint scent of his pipe as the
wind carried the smoke deeper into the group. Loam seemed to smell it too.*
"Geff, geff,
icky!" The hedgehog coughed, wiping his nose with a filthy paw.
*Moonrose sighed
and turned her attention back to the front, which had come to a halt to hear
Cinder's report. They were close. Without warning, the monster among them gave
a howl and set off across the grasses, his strong legs pulling him easily to
the village. Fear rose in her throat and came out as a strangled yell. What was
the canid thinking? That he would seek out his nephew and rampage the village
despite being terribly out numbered? Without giving herself time to think, the
mouse set off after the coyote, pumping her small legs and urging herself to go
faster. Deathjaw had gotten a large headstart, and his long legs were pulling
him ever farther away. She had no idea what she would do is she didn't catch up
with him, but worse, was that she had no idea what she would do if she did.*
"Ah, very good Cinder lad." Mack
said with an appreciative nod towards the squirrel, still continuing at an
agile pace. But as Cinder's news reached the ears of the somewhat crazed yote,
an icy hand gripped Mack as the enraged beast set off on his own.
"Will that
blasted beast never learn? They'll be like as not t'shoot him on first sight!
Let's go Rook!" The hare stretched his legs as he began to lope after
Moonrose. Suddenly, however, he stopped as if thinking better of it. He flashed
around, speaking outloud as he did so. "Cinder, quick like now, race
ahead an' warn the hedgehogs. Any squirrel can beat a beast on foot, but you'll
have t'hurry if'n you plan on tellin' 'em the whole story. Tell 'em not t'kill
Deathjaw, but harm 'im if he poses a threat, jest knock him out or something.
Quick step lad, he's already got a head start!"
Not long after the words came out of his
mouth, Cinder saw Deathjaw take off towards the hills, followed soon after by
the albino mouse. Cinder stood there dumbfounded as to what to do, not fully
realized the danger they all faced. He saw Mack start to run after the pair,
but pull up soon after. Before Mack was halfway done shouting, Cinder shot off
on all fours as fast as he could, in order to catch up.
"I'm on
it!" He yelled as he flew by the hare.
[i]'What do I
say? How do I tell them...' he thought as he galloped across the open plain. It
wasn't long before the squirrel caught up to the yote. With nothing more than a
quick glance behind him, Cinder raced past him and continued on towards the
hills. 'Got'a hurry, I don't have much time.... WAIT! I bet I can throw him off
course, he doesn't know which hill they live in!'
With a short hop,
the squirrel had changed his direction, and poured on a little extra speed,
heading for a hill further south of where he saw the hedgehog family. 'Maybe
that will buy me an extra second.' He thought as he sprinted onwards.
*Moonrose panted angrily, frustrated that
she just could not catch up to the lanky yote. Just up ahead, Cinder zigzagged
back and forth, darting out of the way. Deathjaw followed immediately, changing
course and heading further south.
What is he
doing?!She asked herself as she followed, taking a shorter route to help her
catch up. With anger spurring her on, the mouse kicked up her heels, and
slowly, ever so slowly, began to gain some ground. Growling to herself, she
kept her rose-coloured eyes focused in on the ash-coloured monster just ahead,
trying to imagin herself being pulled along her gaze. Lavender skirt billowing
out behind her, the albino pressed on, pulling ever closer to the crazed canid.
Even from behind
she could tell that he was starting to burn out; his pink tongue hung out
between his yellow fangs, and his footpaws slapped the ground. It seemed,
though, that in his crazed state, he did not notice his body was failing to
catch up to the fleet squirrel. Moonrose would have grinned were she not
gasping for air herself. Gotcha now!*
The yote caught everybeast off guard by
bolting from the group, and Rook was no exception. Scarely before he could
comprehend just how grave the situation had once again become, Cinder and
Moonrose were also gone from his side, after the loping canine. Mackbry moved
to follow, but stopped and began to shout. What he said fell deaf as Rook raced
by, though otters are not built to skirt the land and Rook soon fell behind the
other two, much to his continued frustration. Vowing to lambaste the yote once
he managed to catch him, Rook curled his tail and pumped his lissom legs,
gaining a little bit of ground on the three
"Rassafrassingyote!
*pantpant* He should be locked in a cage while somebeast tosses his Bludfur in
a cold river!"
Lupin gave a small snort of annoyance as the coyote took off running, warning nobeast. The fool creature would not learn! The female otter quickened her step as Moonrose, Cinder, and Rook gave chase, but she didn't run like the others, knowing that she won't be able to catch up. If water were near, it would be a different story, but neither stream nor river was readily available. Lupin reloaded her sling with a larger stone as she sped up a bit to keep the running creatures in view. If anybeat was put in serious danger, she wanted to be ready to throw the stone as a chance at comprmising the coyote, lest any of her friends or innocent creatures be injured.
"Rook, northeast m'boyo,
northeast!" Mack shouted towards the sprinting otter. "Cinder
said northeast an' he's headed more south'en that! I'll head striaght fer the
tribe, keep goin'!"
The hare took
off in a different direction than that of his companion, his long legs flexing
with the strain of speed. After a few minutes his breath finally started to
come out in ragged, clipped intervals as age took its toll of Mack's endurance.
He slowed his pace to a fast jog and muttered to himself..
"Keep goin'
Mackbry Taffellappen, you've got t'warn them hedgehogs!" With a grunt
he pumped his legs once, shooting off towards the hill to the northeast.
*Deathjaw's sharp ears caught the Mack's shout easily, as the ears of the coyote are built to hear the smallist of noises. The elderly hare's words reached the yote's brain ever so slowly, not really sinking in until three more beasts had taken up the chase. NORTHEAST?! The creature gave a rage-filled yowl and changed directions, snarling with each labored breath. He'd deal with those meddling travelers when he was through with the hedgehog tribe. Seeing red, the canid pushed his flagging limbs onward, spurred by anger and concern for Bloodfur. Then he spotted Mackbry, jogging slowly up the hill. Easy prey... he thinks, and puts on an extra burst of speed.*
"No-!" Moonrose breathed in
frustration.
*The monster had
keener hearing than anyone had suspected. Pushing herself onward, she followed
the heavy canid, cursing her skirts for slowing her. She could feel her heart
pounding in her chest, and each breath was beginning to create a dull ache.
Angrilly she forced herself forward, pushing her leaden legs to the limit. She
spotted Mack heading out in front of the massive canine, dashing with the
god-given speed of only a hare. But the yote was gaining crazily.
It struck her
brain like chain lightning. With a roar the small mouse pressed herself
forward, straining every muscle and every last bit of strength to catch up to
the monsterous beast. She could feel her legs beginning to give, and the
muscles in her middle knotted in a large cramp. I can do this! She
scolded herself for having any doubt. She had gotten this far, haden't she? She
was close enough to reach out and touch the black-tipped tail in front of her.
With one last burst of strength, she threw herself at the canid, knocking him
off balance and bringing him to the ground.*
Riala blinks, taken off guard as
everything happens at once - the coyote charging towards the hedgehog camp...
Cinder's swift flight to warn the tribe... and then instinct kicks in and she
races with all the incredible speed of her species up a tree, tearing across
the treetops, dropping to all fours in her mad rush to catch up and overtake
the 'yote. Gold-brown eyes narrow dangerously as the flagging coyote speeds up
with Mack right in front of him...
Not going to
lose another friend...!
The thought rages
across her mind, fueling her heaving lungs and her burning muscles as she leaps
for the 'yote, roce out and swinging by its cord from her paw and aiming
towards his head, dagger in her free paw to strike if her club-like stick doesn't
do the job of halting the maddened canine.
The commotion has
not gone unnoticed by the hedgehog camp, for sound can travel where sight can't
detect. Nearby weapons are taken up immediately, wariness etched on each
quill-framed face as they wait for intruders. The scent of coyote is strong in
the camp, however, and strongest within one tent that continues to attract
cautious glances from the warrior tribebeasts.
*The canid hit the ground hard, getting
the breath knocked from his lungs in the process. He coughed out a strangled
growl of anguish as he swiped at the albino, shoving her off of him. Their
alpha soon entered the fray, and he had to roll over to avoid the weapon she
was wielding. Snapping his mighty jaws together angrily, he scuffled with the
exhausted mouse for a moment as she fought to keep him down before hastilly
picking himself up and dashing off up the hill, his breathing ragged and
laboured. He could feel his wiery muscles beginning to fail, and he angrilly
forced himself on, following the grey hare in hot pursuit. He'd get those
travelers for this! Turning his head over his shoulder for a look back, he
found that the mouse had gotten to her feet and was following him again. The
squirrel was there too, nipping at his heels. Do they never quit?! He threw himself forward, charging the hill
angrilly and quickly gaining on the older hare. Only a matter of time now. With
a crazed howl, he went down on all fours, digging in his long claws and
propelling himself forward in a most primal manner.*
"LUAAAAAAAAAAANAAAAAAAA!!"
Mack suddenly skidded to a halt as a loud
'thump!' sounded a ways down the hill behind him and a cloud of dust rose.
Deathjaw had advanced upon the jogging hare in utter silence, speeding through
the forest at a pace faster than Mack had even known possible.
The hare flashed
around and choked back a cry of surprise as his eyes landed on the beast he
feared as much as any adder. But surprise was soon replaced by horror as he saw
what had brought the yote down; his friend and comrad Moonrose. Mack shakily
lifted his spear, his air-deprived mind slowing his actions. Something seemed
to break in him and tears suddenly made his eyes sparkle, although none rolled
down his cheek. An icy paw tugged at his heart and he wave of helplessness
swept over him. Deathjaw's blood-curdling cry of anger did little to enforce
Mack's confidence.
The hare's arms
felt weak and watery as he stared in total silence as the bloodwrath-led beast
charged up the hill; how many hares had challenged a coyote who suffered from
the bloodwrath? Mack was willing to bet very few.
Suddenly a
strange, yet somehow faintly familiar voice rang through his ears, "Every
warrior fears something my son, but never do they remain still when danger is
present; it is the warrior's duty and honor." All at once energy surged
through Mack's body as he hefted his spear high above his head.
What he saw
before him was not the blood-shaking coyote, but an enemy, one who presented a
threat to more than just Mack's life. Muttering something to the extent of
"Aid me, Father." Mack charged down the hill towards the canine. His
arms and legs felt like jelly and were coated in the sweat of fear, but he
moved with the grace of a young fearless warrior.
"Swords of
justice, ARISE!" Mack hurled his spear down the hill with all the force
he could muster at Deathjaw, aimed at the yote's left shoulder as he was on all
fours; that beast had to be brought down, Mack thought, dead or alive.
*The canid skidded to an abrupt halt, staring in awe at the spear shaft that seemed to grow out of his shoulder. There was no pain in his crazed state, but fear flooded through him, causing him to tremble violently. He was going to die, to die, to die! The coyote sunk to his knees, still gaping at his bleeding wound. He was going to die and never see his Bloodfur again. He had let Dakket down, he had let Bloodfur down... What had he done? Crimson blood filled his vision, and with one last, gurgled howl, the coyote collapsed in a bloody heap, unconcious and barely breathing.*
The sounds of confrontation reached
Cinder's ears as he reached the base of the hill. He chanced a look, but found
no one following behind him. He skidded to a halt, his muscles burning with
pain and breathing heavily. 'It didn't work, I got to get to the tribe.'
Without looking
back, Cinder started off again heading straight for the hedgehog encampment.
He was just
arriving as a grumbling howl pierced the evening air. Cinder cam to another
screeching halt.
"LUAAAAAAAAAAANAAAAAAAA!!"
The entire camp,
for the slightest moment, was silent, as they stood motionless looking for the
cause of the disturbance. The sudden cry from a young dibbun, for it's mother,
broke the errie spell, and sent the young and old scurrying to their homes. The
warriors of the tribe quickly rounded up their weapons and gathered around the
campfire, all of them looking up to the male hedgehog, standing upon a large
rock, for direction. "Baggor, ged'up 'da hill and scout around for that
beast. D'a rest of ya, set up a line to....."
Cinder had ran up
to the group, trying to push his way in towards the chieftain, yelling to get
his attention. "Sir!,
Sir!" The warriors all turned to see who interrupted. Completely out of
breath, he tried to explain the situation.
"S'cuse me,
Sir! *huffs in and out* I'm Cinder Elmcreek, 'n I'm with *breaths in and out
again* a scouting party from Fort Ruddler. *gulp* *another deep breath in*
There's a crazed coyote looking for his nephew, running straight for this camp.
We need any of your strongest warriors, to help stop the yote from getting
here, but PLEASE only help capture the beast. He's only looking for his lost
nephew, we only need to stop him long en....."
"The pup!
.... He's coming here after that beast over..... "
The chatting
warriors, some of who gave nervous glances towards a tent on the other side of
the camp, interrupted Cinder. The chiefthain shouted out to quiet the group.
Cinder took note of where the glances fell before urging the warriors to
action.
"Please
hurry! I have a feeling my friends maybe in trouble."
Soon after,
Cinder and a half score of the tribes warriors, with weapons ready, were
running up the hill to aid the rest of the patrol in stopping Deathjaw.
Mack fell to his knees, his cap tumbling
from his head. His breath came in ragged gasps as he watched the yote fall to
the ground as well. By that time the two were within a short stone's throw of
each other. The hare, his limbs quivering, quickly crawled towards the massive
beast.
The tears that
had threatened to pour forth did so at that moment; despite his porfession and
need to protect others, Mack had rarely killed another beast and took no pleasure
whatsoever in doing so.
The coyote's
breathing had slowed, making obvious the fact that the beast was unconcious.
Stopping the flow of tears and wiping them away with the sleeve of his tunic,
Mack hunched over the yote. Slowly he wrapped his paws around his own spear and
with a sigh tugged it quickly free of the injured beast's shoulder. Pulling the
flagon of water from his haversack and uncorking it, Mack slowly poured the
water over the wound while watching Deathjaw closely for signs of wakefulness. After
the wound had been cleansed of all blood, the hare lightly pressed the edge of
his cloak over it; a dark stain began spreading across the blue fabric.
"Riala!
Moonrose! Rook!" Mack called out, his voice faltering as if laiden with
grief and pain.
Riala had almost caught up to the 'yote
when Mack made his move, and she had to dart aside to avoid ramming into
Deathjaw as he fell. She watches the fallen coyote with narrowed gold-brown
eyes, breathing deeply from the exertions of the chase. Insane... The
thought breezes through her mind silently, darkly, a shadow of foreboding. ...if
not truly an enemy.
Scarred footsteps
make little sound on the sparse grass as Riala pads over to the canid's head,
staring down at the prone body coldly. Too dangerous to live, she
thinks, her mental voice unemotionless and ringing with absolute finality.
Mackbry's grief-choked voice breaks on her consciousness like a wave on the
rocks in the aftermath of a storm, and russet-tufted ears flick his way,
followed by her gaze, a look that holds all the emotion of the gates of Dark
Forest.
"Mackbry."
Riala's rough voice is flat and level, carrying the hardness that he may find
familiar: it is the complete emotionlessness that brings to mind the fact that
this is no merciful warrior of the normal codes of honor, but one who has lived
by the rules of ruthlessness and strength, one who has had it beaten into her
time and again that the honorable only ever find death at the blades of those
without honor... "Don't waste your efforts on him."
Her words are
accented by the rasp of steel leaving a sheath, and the dying sunlight gleams
red off of the dagger in the squirrel's paw.
The elderly hare wrapped his cloak around
Deathjaw and stood up, wiping his blood-stained paws on his tunic. Without a
word he ambled over to where his cap had dropped to the ground and reached down
to retrieve it. Mack stood up, turning the cap over in his paws as if memories
of long ago seasons were passing through his mind.
"Riala,
please..." He began, finally settling the cap atop his silver-furred
head and staring down at his own red paws. "He's young ones t'take
care of an'...he's jest crazed for fear of them bein' harmed." Mack
wiped away a few beads of sweat that had gathered under his eyes and polished
his glasses briefly. "I mean...tis the last thing this world needs by
killin' another parent of young ones. I'll..." The hare hesitated,
glancing down at the fearsome creature; at its long, dangerous teeth and sharp,
mericiless claws. This was the beast Mack would have preferred to avoid for the
rest of his life, the beast that had twice now struck an icy fear in the hare's
gut. Yet somehow, there had been something strange Mack had felt by the
coyote's words of thanks when offered water.
"I'll...I'll
watch him. Jest until he goes his own way...I'll watch him."
Riala watches Mack closely as he spoke,
something akin to sympathy flashing across her face and then disappearing as if
it had never touched her scarred features. When he finishes, she is silent for
a long moment, and then shakes her head. "He's insane, Mackbry," she
says. "Even if he's not an enemy, not vermin, he's insane - he's too
dangerous to let live. Dangerous to himself and to others... He tried to kill
you, Mack, and you're the one he seemed to trust most."
The slight
softening in the squirrel's gaze disappears, replaced by ice as she stares down
at the 'yote. "You say he'll go his own way... but you can't know that he
will. Just as likely that he'll try to kill you and those in the hedgehog
tribe. He's better off dead." She tests the keen edge of her dagger on one
calloused paw, her face expressionless. Killing is not a job she enjoys,
despite her seeming bloodthirstyness at times: it's something she feels she has
to do. In many cases, she feels it's the best solution... such as this one.
*Moonrose saw the canid fall, heard the
dull thump as he collapsed, saw the spear petrude in his shoulder, watched him
as his breathing slowed. She skidded to a halt, trying hard to get her
heartbeat under controle. She watched the beasts converse up ahead. The
monsterous creature was not dead, but what would the future bring?*
"Riala's
right, Mack..." The mouse says softly, puting a comforting paw on the
hare's back.
*She walked the
rest of the way to the coyote's side, staring at the ash-coloured beast in
distain. His breathing labored, his wound crusting with the dust, he looked as
pitiful and as helpless as a wounded lion. His eyes half closed, he was already
at the Gates of the Dark Forest. For a moment, she felt something akin to
sympathy to the magnificent beast before her. Though terrifying, his strength
and power had held her in awe. Then her eyes befell upon the long yellow fangs,
the sharp black claws, the twitching sinewy muscles, and she knew what had to
be done. She unshiethed her sword from her back, heavy in her paws, and looked
to Riala with an unreadable expression.*
*Through a shadowy haze, the monsterous canid watched the conversing travelers with glazed eyes. His shoulder shot the white fire of pain surging through his torso, but somehow his senses weren't picking it up. His keen hearing must be failing him as well, for the words of the beasts so close seemed muffled, dull. He tried moving, but his muscles only twitched in response. The coyote breathed a gusty sigh, they were discussing his fate. How stupid of him to disobey their alpha, just when they had givin him a second chance! The mouse who had hit him earlier came forth, wielding a double-bladed sword. It glinted silver and gold in the light, almost glowing. The mouse held it poised above his neck, her expression grim. This is it, he thinks. I'm sorry, Bloodfur.... The creature closes his eyes in defeat, awaiting his death.*
A long, drawn-out sigh was Mack's reply
as he stooped to pick up his cloak. For a moment he gazed at Deathjaw, then
patted the yote lightly on the shoulder before rising once more and gave a
slight, reasurring smile that just barely turned the corners of his lips.
"Riala, we
can't kill him. We're honorable beasts, whether he be or not doesn't matter.
The least we can do is take him along with us and wait for him to die, be
better then killlin' him in cold blood. If he's truely goin' t'die, then let
him, but if he's not then let him live. He's a guardian of a youn 'un,
an'-" Mack hesitated, hating to bring up a touchy subject that related
to Riala's out past. "An'..." He faltered once more before
plucking up whatever courage had not been drained from him when Deathjaw had
charged him. "An' think of the type of life Bloodfur twould live
without somebeast t'care fer him."
Mack knelt
next to Deathjaw and laid a soft paw over the yote's back. "He willna hurt
anybeast what with a wound like that. I'll take responsibilty fer him; he gets
in trouble, I'll get in trouble. I'll even split me rations with him, jest
don't kill him, please....not in cold blood leastwise."
*The mouse sighed, frustraited, lowering
her blade and sticking it point down in the soil next to the monster's head.
What Mackbry saw in this creature was beyond her. It could be a father,
brother, or a grandfather, but it didn't change the fact that this canid had
attacked them twice, held a complete disregard for Riala's wishes, and appeared
stark raving mad. She stared into the coyote's half closed amber eyes with
mistrust, debating wheather the old hare was actually seeing something good
within the monsterous creature, or if father time was turning him soft.
Still... The beast still has a young one to look after, a small part of
her mind whispered. She shook her head at that. What was she thinking? This
beast was dangerous, unstable, and it was his love of his Bloodfur that made
him that way.*
"I..."
She began, but trailed off, not knowing where to go from there.
*The albino took
a long, hard look at the yote, disregarding him for a moment. He was virtually
helpless, and she had to admitt, the loss of a dear one can make a beast crazy.
Before the mouse knew it she was reaching over and removing the monster's belt
of daggers. She unsheithed one, tossed it and caught it deftly.*
"I'll let
him live, as long as he stays away from these," Moonrose twitched the
blade ever so slightly, watching the sunlight glint off the metal before
sticking it back in the belt.
*To the coyote's complete surprise, instead of the stinging blow of the albino's blade, all he could feel was a gentle paw on his shoulder. His muscles winced slightly in responce, twitching involuntary. His eyes rolled in his head, searching the bright world, finding the same old hare who's spear was lodged in his shoulder. Somehow, the slight touch was comforting, and it lessened the maddening roar that crashed inside his head. Thank the gods, the mouse had layed down her sword. They were going to let him live? He did not want to jump to conclusions, and shut his eyes, just in case. An eyon passed between them, but his mind was totally focused on the soft paw on his back. Somebeast wanted him to live, and that took away most of his fear. He opened his eyes just a slit, only to find the mouse undoing his dagger belt. I don't blame 'er, he thinks drowsily, blinking once before letting his muscles go flacid. With one last sigh to blow away the rest of his fears, he sank into a deep and dreamless sleep, to the sound of the traveler's muffled voices.*
A heavy sigh of relief escaped Mack and a
small, brief smile fluttered across his lips. The hare sat down next to the now
sleeping Deathjaw, careful not to remove his paw from the yote's back. Comfort
was Mack's strongest trait, as many who knew might have known; he seemed to
have sympathy and the want to comfort towards anybeast.
Removing his cap,
Mack revealed the wet, sweaty hair atop his head as he ran a paw through it,
smoothing it backwards. "Riala, say
you'll let him, I'll watch, I will.. He be a livin' beast jest like any of
us."
Atune to all, though he could do little
to affect the outcome, Rook stood silent, almost pensively as Mack pleaded for
the life of a beast who had every intention of tasting the blood from each and
every one of them. His thoughts were fraught with the powerful, almost
unrestrainable urge to knock the doddering old fool away from Bloodfur's side
and slit the yote wide like a carp. How could one be so absolute in his
forgiveness? Such compassion and selflessness was far beyond the icy Rook,
which made him feel a certain sense of contempt for Mackbry in that brief span
of time. Usually given to locking away his thoughts and notions behind an
impassive, placid face, Rook could not help but utter venomously
"Hmph....I
swear that kind heart will be your end one these days, Mackbry. What good is
honor while you rot in the ground? It may save your name, but not your
life."
All that was heard for the next few
seconds was the peaceful chattering of birds and the gentle waving of tree
branches as silence overtook Mack. A wave of sadness swept over the elderly
hare, knowing his life had been far different from that of many warriors at
Fort Ruddler; he simply looked at life from a different view.
Slowly his paw
lifted to place his cap atop his head as he stood up. The hare leaned
thoughtfully on his spear for a few seconds before finally replying to Rook's
comments.
"Well,"
he began, his voice soft and gentle, "pr'aps you're right, Rook.
What good is it if I save my name, but not my life?" Mack stopped as he
asked this question, his face surprisingly serene and peaceful. Suddenly a
brief smile fluttered across his lips as he snorted softly. "But
pers'nly, I'd rather die knowin' I did all I could in my life t'be a good an'
honorable beast, than die knowin' that I saved m'own skin at the extent of
other's sacrifice. Tis jest m'own thinkin' though, an' that be how I intend on
livin' m'life. I wasn't born a warrior, my dad an' mum weren't warriors an'
even after they died I didn't become a warrior. Even now I ain't a warrior, I'm
a fighter; I jest fight when I need to. It adapted as I b'came a traveler, jest
t'protect m'self an' others. There should be no other reason for killin' a
beast an' this one here ain't goin' t'danger nobeast in that condition."
Riala listens to each of the arguments,
for and against the 'yote's life, and finally sheaths her dagger with a sigh.
"Mackbry..." She hesitates, eyes shadowed as she debates within on
what to say, what not to say, and finally nods. "Very well. You're right
in that this creature probably can't hurt anybeast much, not in his condition,
but we're not going to wait for the 'yote to get better. If you can forgive his
trying to kill you, then that's your choice... you can stay with him, I'm not
going to try to stop you, but I'm not going to wait up for you either. We're
already too far behind on this mission to make any more stops than
necessary."
She pauses as if
about to say something more, the words running through her head but not
reaching her lips: Sometimes I wish I could be as honorable as you... that I
could be merciful... but all my experience says mercy is death, and not just
for one's self but for others as well. Mack... but she doesn't say it,
doesn't reveal her emotions, her thoughts. They remain locked inside, as ever
they have.
*Live. The monster was going to live. The
mouse nodded to herself, leaning gently on her swordblade. She couldn't help
but give the old hare credit, he was a strange fighter, indeed. Wise and
trustworthy, yes, but strange. He fought for nobility, something lost to many
fighters as the seasons turn their hearts cold. It was a trait she respected
most about him. But what of this primitive and murderous creature? It's life
rested in their paws. They could rid the world of it's rampages right now, save
future lives, stop the tyranny before it started. Still, her trust was firmly
placed in the elderly hare, and she would continue to stand by him.*
"Nothing you
say can change my mind about this creature..." She starts, placing a paw
on Mackbry's shoulder. "He will always be a monster in my eyes. But I
swear to assist you in any way I can, you have my trust."
Dissatisfied with the response given by
his friend and prone to having his word be final, Rook spat violently upon the
ground, a few inches from the immobile Deathjaw's still form
"There are
many among us who weren't born from warrior's blood. My father was a humble
fisherbeast, like his father before him and so on. My mother wove nets of kelp,
living righteously a-and h-hon-honorably.....AND THEY BOTH DIED DIRTY DEATHS AT
THE PAWS OF CUT-THROATS LIKE THIS BLOODY YOTE! WHY DO WE ALWAYS HAVE TO PLAY BY
THE FAIR AND NOBLE RULES? It's just a p-pathetic excuse and so incredibly
weak.........*Rook paused and blinked rapidly. His voice had been rising,
building to a hateful crescendo, and the otter realized his paws were shaking
with a leashed fury that clouded his often sound judgement. He dipped his sleek
head and let the air about them expand in his chest*.....I'd best g-go
before I say something that will have me apologizing later. Excuse me, Riala...."
"Thank you, Riala." Mack
said with a curt nod and a weak smile in the squirrel's direction. Although his
heart did not rejoice, he was happy inside for he had saved a helpless
creature...for now; just how long would Deathjaw remain helpless?
Mack, of all
beasts, feared the massive canine. What if Deathjaw was to attack? To hurt some
creature of their party? To kill them? Life wouldn't be the same, guilt would
reign supreme on the hare's conscience, he'd have to leave the fort, leave all
his fri-
Suddenly a soft
paw upon his shoulder and a quiet voice interupted his thoughts. It was a
surprising feeling. Despite all Mack did to comfort others, rarely did others
try to comfort him. It was strange, especially coming from Moonrose.
"Th...thank you,
Moonrose." The hare faltered with another weak smile. Perhaps it
wouldn't be as bad it looked, as soon as Bloodfur was found Deathjaw was very
likely to forget the travelers. "Yes, thank you." He repeated,
his voice once more steady.
Without warning
Rook's shouts of anger broke the comforting spell of silence, snapping Mack's
mind back into full power. In spite of their friendship, Mack knew little of
Rook's past and his face saddened as he listened to the outraged otter's voice
rise with every word. Rook soon finished, however, and and seemed to startle
even himself. "Rook..." Mack began, but stopped himself.
"Er...yes Riala, pr'aps y'should all continue on. I'll stay with Deathjaw
until he wakes then join you at the hedgehog's village. If they wish him not to
be in their village, I'll sleep away from it with him."
Riala flinches at Rook's outburst, his
impassioned words about the fallisty of honor hitting a little too close to her
own unspoken thoughts. She watches helplessly as the otter storms off, wishing
she could do something, but knowing no words would heal his pain - just as none
had ever balmed hers. I hate this...
Mackbry's voice
tears her from her thoughts and she nods slowly. "Very well... I hope
you're right about the 'yote, Mack." Gold-brown eyes hold a glimmer of
concern for the kindly hare, a rare softness in her rough, normally cold tone.
"For your sake and his." Then all emotion is pushed aside as so many
times before, and her scarred face returns to immobility as she starts down
towards the hedgehog tribe.
"Everything's
all right..." she tells the spiked warriors. "We've subdued the
attacker. Have you found any sign of a young canine?"
The hedgehogs
glance at each other, and then one burly cinnamon-colored female steps
forwards, an angered expression on her face at the mention of a canine.
"Aye, we did," she says curtly. "M'son disappeared a few days
ago an' we found a monstrous dog-cretter wi' my Loam's scent all o'er him. Huh,
should say we captured 'im, an' 'e's awaitin' trial back at camp, though
I don' see why we'm givin' him a chance t'defend hisself! Clearly guilty, I
say- he et my Loamyyyy!" The name ends in a wail, and the hogwife bursts
into tears.
*The cub breathed a gusty sigh, wriggling ever so slightly to itch his back on the rough ropes that binded him. His red footpaws had long since fallen asleep; he had been stuck in that tent for days. He tried to wiggle his toes, only to send small needles of pain coursing through his foot. His dark-amber eyes had scoured every inch of the surrounding burlap tent, trying to find some way to pass the time, and finding nothing to amuse himself. The young canid sighed again, trying desperately not to let his fear mount against him as the noise outside the tent flap grew. 'Stay calm, you must have a clear head in all situations,' his mother had told him. He tried his best, but he could feel his heart dropping to his stomach as one of the hedgepigs claimed him guilty, which would explain the sudden nausia. He whimpered a bit, trying not to make to much noise lest the spikedog elders come in and cuff him again. With a deep breath he closed his eyes, trying to imagine Uncle Deathjaw bursting in to save him, cutting his bindings with one quick slash of a dagger, and sweeping him out to the safty of his tribe. That thought comforted him some, at least enough to open his eyes. Scanning the surrounding area and finding it empty still, he sighed once again. He had too much time on his paws, and it would all be spent waiting.*
The sight of his mother in tears prods
the shame-faced Loam into action. He walks forward slowly, footpaws dragging in
the dirt, eyes cast downwards. "Mummy..." he says quietly, guilt
thick in his tone, "Um, Bloodyfur's m'friend. We's just playin', an' then
I left an' got losted, an'..."
The hedgewife's
eyes go wide at the sound of her son's voice, and she runs to him, patting him
all over to check for injuries, wiping off his filthy cinnamon-colored face
with the hem of her tunic and generally making a huge fuss over the little
hedgehog. The sheepish look on Loam's face quickly fades to long-suffering
irritation as a stream of words pours from his mother's snout. "Oh
m'Loamrose I thought ye be dead I couldn't find ye anywhere and that 'or'ble
dog-creature had your scent all over 'im and I thought he et ye an' don't e'er
do that t'me again I was worried 'arf t'death an' ..."
The corners of
Riala's mouth quirk up into something that might be called a smile, and she
shakes her head. A strange hedgehog... but then most of their kind are
odd...
