Arwen-Galadriel- Heya, yeah, I've met BJ. Um, he's my height and I'm about
5' 4'' so if that's tall to you then yes! Don't worry about not reviewing,
I just love that you're reading! (Oh and it did make sense).
Acoustical Ferret- Ack, I don't really want to go back and do all that work... ~is lazy~ But, I'll think on the tarot cards... But I think you might actually like this chapter! There's a- oh can't say, you must read on!
Songbreeze Swifteye- Okay, well you asked questions that –technically- I shouldn't answer because you're supposed to read the story... but... nah, I'm going to make you read the story. ~witch cackle~ And I'm sorry, but Nanda is still sick, maybe I didn't make that clear enough... oops.
***
Of Rivals and Survival
By: Catty Engles
Fraught with indecision, Ira's eyes darted from Ublaz to the small mousemaid. An unnerving silence stretched and seemed to rebound upon itself in the small circular room. Twyler the otter, though groggy, had the sense to note the direction of Ira's eyes, she moved protectively in front of Nanda. The small mousemaid's hand found Twyler's rough one and she gave Nanda a reassuring squeeze, all the while steadfastly blocking Ira's view of her.
Ira's cape billowed as she stood, issuing sharp orders to Milkeye and Ublaz. "Half of them will work in my throne room, half to serve at the cook's whim, but this one," She craned her neck around Twyler who stepped to block Ira's view of Nanda, "will be taken to my own quarters."
"Understood?" Ira cast a jaundiced eye over Jixt the fox and Splitear the weasel, "You two, report."
Splitear related in a halting voice of Jyda's ship, their two attacks, the storm, and Twyler and Nanda's capture. Ira cut him off when he started babbling, looking impatient and bored. "You, take the half that will work with the cook down to the kitchens. And you, take the other half to my quarters, leave the mousemaid." Jixt and Splitear jumped to attention, cutting Twyler's rope, carefully leaving Nanda untouched.
When Nanda's line was severed from Twyler's, Jixt tugged sharply at the rope bound around the otter's neck, but she didn't budge, instead she knelt in front of Nanda. The mousemaid's face was streaked with tears of confusion.
"Be brave, Nanda. Keep yore chin up. I know-"
Ira pouted sulkily. She whined, "Why's that otter talking? Let's move!"
With sudden, unbound rage, Twyler threw herself at Ira, instead, hitting something hard in mid-air. Ublaz had intercepted Twyler who now sat panting on the stone floor, the rope still wound tight around her neck. Ira twined her claws into Ublaz's fur, relishing Twyler's fighting spirit.
Silkily she cooed to the otter, "You'd benefit from a nice stay in the dungeons. Our accommodations are picturesque." She dug her claws into Ublaz's skin. He didn't wince. "Show our guest, Ublaz?" His eyes had become stony and far off again, and he wrenched himself away from her. Ira scowled at his lack of retaliation.
Bodily, Ublaz heaved Twyler from the flagged floor. She writhed in his grasp, struggling for air. Ublaz cuffed her temple, and she went limp. Nanda stood petrified, watching the horror unfold before her. A tiny gasp escaped from her lips, followed closely by a renewal of coughing.
Ublaz untied the rope that bound Twyler and heaved her over his muscular shoulder, headed in the direction of the dungeons.
Nanda's coughing abated, replaced with wracking sobs. "Tut, tut, little mousemaid. You'll stay with me now. Nanda is it? What a pretty little name, now come with me and we'll talk all about your friends. Who's Jyda, and where do you think she is now?" Ira crooned. Nanda looked up into Ira's eyes, her own wide with fear. She sniffed in confusion, a look of horror on her face as Ira lowered herself to Nanda's level.
The fox empress patted Nanda's head and snaked her clawed paw into Nanda's tiny one. Nanda vainly tried to pull her paw away from Ira's strong grasp. Smiling benignly, Ira made to lead the small mousemaid into the circular room, "I know you're hungry. I'll give you the most lavish feast ever if you only tell me about your friends. I won't harm them. I just want to play with them." Ira's mouth widened into a toothy grin.
Nanda cowered for a moment and then opened her mouth to reply when a bout of coughing overtook her and she sank to the floor. The pain had returned as strong as ever, lancing through her punished body with each breath. Nanda's stomach heaved and yellowish bile shot from her mouth. Ira recoiled in disgust. Nanda's eyes fluttered, as the room seemed to collapse in on itself, wheeling her closer to consuming darkness. She struggled to maintain consciousness, but it was a losing battle and soon all went dark.
***
Deep in the belly of the fortress atop Sampetra, dark, dank dungeons rotted with life. Fetid air hung hot and moist in each cell, overgrown with moss and smelling of putrefying feces. Twyler was thrown headfirst into a squalid pool of standing water inside her own cell.
"Enjoy your accommodations." Ublaz deadpanned, locking the door. He swiftly pivoted on his heel and the dark swallowed him.
Twyler spluttered in the putrid water, wiping slime from her face. The echoes of her movement failed to lift her spirits until a muffled voice rent the clammy air. "It's a riverwolloper, I'd bet me scut on it."
"Tweren't any otter, that'n's a weasel, and I don't want your flamin' bobtail. I like mine fine."
"Uh, excuse me." Twyler croaked.
"Is that a slur on my dignity, me gel?"
"Um, hello?" Twyler put in, a little more persistently.
"No sir, only on your hindquarters."
"HELLO?" Twyler practically yelled, and then winced as the echoes resounded up and down the corridor.
"Ahem, quite unneeded, that." A deep, male voice quipped from a cell not far away.
"Righto, the major's got a flippin' point, old-uh, gel-lad." The second, younger, and feminine of the voices called out uncertainly.
"I'm Twyler, a, uh, gel, and I'm not a weasel. I'm an otter" She called back more softly this time.
"Aha!" The deeper voice sounded from a cell a little to Twyler's left. "An otter she is, I'll keep my scut for the time being. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Major Redick and my accomplice is Brigadier Delair."
"Pleased and enchanted." Delair pronounced curtly from the cell to Twyler's right.
"Just shut-up will you?" A sinister voice called from the cell directly across from Twyler's.
Twyler's head swiveled in its direction. She shuddered unconsciously.
"Yah, go boil yore 'ead, yeh great lump o' vermin." Redick's voice shot back at the newcomer.
"I couldn't even if I wanted to, but thanks ever so for the suggestion." The voice snarled sarcastically.
"Who're you?" Twyler ventured timidly, somewhat humbled by the utter lack of hope in the voice. It was as if pure desolation were speaking to her.
"Naught but a weasel thrown in here long ago." Delair didn't bother to keep her voice down, and it held nothing resembling pity when it spat, "A traitor to his own kind."
"I'd prefer mercenary." The voice answered, "And I'm a mercenary who dearly loves his sleep, if you don't mind keeping it down. If it's not you two talking it's the babe wailing. 'Da da!' over an' over. Pathetic little thing, he is." Twyler heard the barest semblance to pity when the weasel said the last line.
"Babe?" Twyler queried.
"Aye," Redick sighed, "Our badgerlord's own son." His voice fell silent.
Delair's voice held something akin to a quaver, but she hid it well, "It was our duty to take the little tyke out for a jolly ole romp around Salama- thingy. Captured by corsairs, we were." Delair's voice lowered to a self- reproaching murmur, "Blasted idjits we were."
"Sorry, Salama-thingy?" Twyler asked.
"Salamandastron." Redick's voice answered, "Home to the great Badgerlord Brawnstripe."
Twyler stopped talking from then on. Redick and Delair didn't seem keen on continuing the conversation as she heard soft snuffles of sleep from them on both sides of her a little later on. Twyler sat in the cell alone, forgetting how much she craved the ocean, the sky, the moon, the sun...
She sighed deeply, resigning herself to her fate. It was hard. She'd never see Nanda again or be able to protect her. She'd never see Roader again. She'd never see her best friend... Jyda.
Tiny sobs escalated into muffled hiccoughs. 'I can't die like this!' Twyler wanted to scream, but she knew that the cell would swallow up her voice as if she had never yelled. She'd just as soon not go through that.
"Shh, sh, It's not that bad... after a while." A husky voice murmured from across the hall.
Twyler dried her eyes, not often was she caught crying, especially in front of vermin.
"What do you care?" She shot back at the weasel, sudden anger coursing through her veins at the race, his race, that had cause all this misery.
The silence stretched between them, "I'm sorry, I forgot. I don't care about anything." The weasel's voice was flat, completely devoid of his empathy from before. "I forgot- forgot I was a vermin." He spat the last word as if it was a vile taste in his mouth.
Twyler was startled. Thinking back, the weasel hadn't done much bad, except cross Delair and Redick, but they were already prejudiced, as Twyler was. The weasel's tone didn't seem at all like the bloodthirsty killers that frequented the seas, ransacked Riverglen, and set her and all the "helpless" females adrift in the sea. The weasel's tone sounded kind.
"Wait." Twyler croaked.
"What."
"I'm sorry." She whispered.
Pause.
"I forgive you."
Pause.
"Da da?" A tiny baby voice echoed desolately in the grimy dungeons.
***
I decided to dabble in some "non-traditional" beliefs. Take that Acous.
Acoustical Ferret- Ack, I don't really want to go back and do all that work... ~is lazy~ But, I'll think on the tarot cards... But I think you might actually like this chapter! There's a- oh can't say, you must read on!
Songbreeze Swifteye- Okay, well you asked questions that –technically- I shouldn't answer because you're supposed to read the story... but... nah, I'm going to make you read the story. ~witch cackle~ And I'm sorry, but Nanda is still sick, maybe I didn't make that clear enough... oops.
***
Of Rivals and Survival
By: Catty Engles
Fraught with indecision, Ira's eyes darted from Ublaz to the small mousemaid. An unnerving silence stretched and seemed to rebound upon itself in the small circular room. Twyler the otter, though groggy, had the sense to note the direction of Ira's eyes, she moved protectively in front of Nanda. The small mousemaid's hand found Twyler's rough one and she gave Nanda a reassuring squeeze, all the while steadfastly blocking Ira's view of her.
Ira's cape billowed as she stood, issuing sharp orders to Milkeye and Ublaz. "Half of them will work in my throne room, half to serve at the cook's whim, but this one," She craned her neck around Twyler who stepped to block Ira's view of Nanda, "will be taken to my own quarters."
"Understood?" Ira cast a jaundiced eye over Jixt the fox and Splitear the weasel, "You two, report."
Splitear related in a halting voice of Jyda's ship, their two attacks, the storm, and Twyler and Nanda's capture. Ira cut him off when he started babbling, looking impatient and bored. "You, take the half that will work with the cook down to the kitchens. And you, take the other half to my quarters, leave the mousemaid." Jixt and Splitear jumped to attention, cutting Twyler's rope, carefully leaving Nanda untouched.
When Nanda's line was severed from Twyler's, Jixt tugged sharply at the rope bound around the otter's neck, but she didn't budge, instead she knelt in front of Nanda. The mousemaid's face was streaked with tears of confusion.
"Be brave, Nanda. Keep yore chin up. I know-"
Ira pouted sulkily. She whined, "Why's that otter talking? Let's move!"
With sudden, unbound rage, Twyler threw herself at Ira, instead, hitting something hard in mid-air. Ublaz had intercepted Twyler who now sat panting on the stone floor, the rope still wound tight around her neck. Ira twined her claws into Ublaz's fur, relishing Twyler's fighting spirit.
Silkily she cooed to the otter, "You'd benefit from a nice stay in the dungeons. Our accommodations are picturesque." She dug her claws into Ublaz's skin. He didn't wince. "Show our guest, Ublaz?" His eyes had become stony and far off again, and he wrenched himself away from her. Ira scowled at his lack of retaliation.
Bodily, Ublaz heaved Twyler from the flagged floor. She writhed in his grasp, struggling for air. Ublaz cuffed her temple, and she went limp. Nanda stood petrified, watching the horror unfold before her. A tiny gasp escaped from her lips, followed closely by a renewal of coughing.
Ublaz untied the rope that bound Twyler and heaved her over his muscular shoulder, headed in the direction of the dungeons.
Nanda's coughing abated, replaced with wracking sobs. "Tut, tut, little mousemaid. You'll stay with me now. Nanda is it? What a pretty little name, now come with me and we'll talk all about your friends. Who's Jyda, and where do you think she is now?" Ira crooned. Nanda looked up into Ira's eyes, her own wide with fear. She sniffed in confusion, a look of horror on her face as Ira lowered herself to Nanda's level.
The fox empress patted Nanda's head and snaked her clawed paw into Nanda's tiny one. Nanda vainly tried to pull her paw away from Ira's strong grasp. Smiling benignly, Ira made to lead the small mousemaid into the circular room, "I know you're hungry. I'll give you the most lavish feast ever if you only tell me about your friends. I won't harm them. I just want to play with them." Ira's mouth widened into a toothy grin.
Nanda cowered for a moment and then opened her mouth to reply when a bout of coughing overtook her and she sank to the floor. The pain had returned as strong as ever, lancing through her punished body with each breath. Nanda's stomach heaved and yellowish bile shot from her mouth. Ira recoiled in disgust. Nanda's eyes fluttered, as the room seemed to collapse in on itself, wheeling her closer to consuming darkness. She struggled to maintain consciousness, but it was a losing battle and soon all went dark.
***
Deep in the belly of the fortress atop Sampetra, dark, dank dungeons rotted with life. Fetid air hung hot and moist in each cell, overgrown with moss and smelling of putrefying feces. Twyler was thrown headfirst into a squalid pool of standing water inside her own cell.
"Enjoy your accommodations." Ublaz deadpanned, locking the door. He swiftly pivoted on his heel and the dark swallowed him.
Twyler spluttered in the putrid water, wiping slime from her face. The echoes of her movement failed to lift her spirits until a muffled voice rent the clammy air. "It's a riverwolloper, I'd bet me scut on it."
"Tweren't any otter, that'n's a weasel, and I don't want your flamin' bobtail. I like mine fine."
"Uh, excuse me." Twyler croaked.
"Is that a slur on my dignity, me gel?"
"Um, hello?" Twyler put in, a little more persistently.
"No sir, only on your hindquarters."
"HELLO?" Twyler practically yelled, and then winced as the echoes resounded up and down the corridor.
"Ahem, quite unneeded, that." A deep, male voice quipped from a cell not far away.
"Righto, the major's got a flippin' point, old-uh, gel-lad." The second, younger, and feminine of the voices called out uncertainly.
"I'm Twyler, a, uh, gel, and I'm not a weasel. I'm an otter" She called back more softly this time.
"Aha!" The deeper voice sounded from a cell a little to Twyler's left. "An otter she is, I'll keep my scut for the time being. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Major Redick and my accomplice is Brigadier Delair."
"Pleased and enchanted." Delair pronounced curtly from the cell to Twyler's right.
"Just shut-up will you?" A sinister voice called from the cell directly across from Twyler's.
Twyler's head swiveled in its direction. She shuddered unconsciously.
"Yah, go boil yore 'ead, yeh great lump o' vermin." Redick's voice shot back at the newcomer.
"I couldn't even if I wanted to, but thanks ever so for the suggestion." The voice snarled sarcastically.
"Who're you?" Twyler ventured timidly, somewhat humbled by the utter lack of hope in the voice. It was as if pure desolation were speaking to her.
"Naught but a weasel thrown in here long ago." Delair didn't bother to keep her voice down, and it held nothing resembling pity when it spat, "A traitor to his own kind."
"I'd prefer mercenary." The voice answered, "And I'm a mercenary who dearly loves his sleep, if you don't mind keeping it down. If it's not you two talking it's the babe wailing. 'Da da!' over an' over. Pathetic little thing, he is." Twyler heard the barest semblance to pity when the weasel said the last line.
"Babe?" Twyler queried.
"Aye," Redick sighed, "Our badgerlord's own son." His voice fell silent.
Delair's voice held something akin to a quaver, but she hid it well, "It was our duty to take the little tyke out for a jolly ole romp around Salama- thingy. Captured by corsairs, we were." Delair's voice lowered to a self- reproaching murmur, "Blasted idjits we were."
"Sorry, Salama-thingy?" Twyler asked.
"Salamandastron." Redick's voice answered, "Home to the great Badgerlord Brawnstripe."
Twyler stopped talking from then on. Redick and Delair didn't seem keen on continuing the conversation as she heard soft snuffles of sleep from them on both sides of her a little later on. Twyler sat in the cell alone, forgetting how much she craved the ocean, the sky, the moon, the sun...
She sighed deeply, resigning herself to her fate. It was hard. She'd never see Nanda again or be able to protect her. She'd never see Roader again. She'd never see her best friend... Jyda.
Tiny sobs escalated into muffled hiccoughs. 'I can't die like this!' Twyler wanted to scream, but she knew that the cell would swallow up her voice as if she had never yelled. She'd just as soon not go through that.
"Shh, sh, It's not that bad... after a while." A husky voice murmured from across the hall.
Twyler dried her eyes, not often was she caught crying, especially in front of vermin.
"What do you care?" She shot back at the weasel, sudden anger coursing through her veins at the race, his race, that had cause all this misery.
The silence stretched between them, "I'm sorry, I forgot. I don't care about anything." The weasel's voice was flat, completely devoid of his empathy from before. "I forgot- forgot I was a vermin." He spat the last word as if it was a vile taste in his mouth.
Twyler was startled. Thinking back, the weasel hadn't done much bad, except cross Delair and Redick, but they were already prejudiced, as Twyler was. The weasel's tone didn't seem at all like the bloodthirsty killers that frequented the seas, ransacked Riverglen, and set her and all the "helpless" females adrift in the sea. The weasel's tone sounded kind.
"Wait." Twyler croaked.
"What."
"I'm sorry." She whispered.
Pause.
"I forgive you."
Pause.
"Da da?" A tiny baby voice echoed desolately in the grimy dungeons.
***
I decided to dabble in some "non-traditional" beliefs. Take that Acous.