Frost Quickie #2

[Frost]

'Nother quickie for your pleasure...this is a post from a survivor roleplay I did several years ago called "Mossmire," and focuses on my character Karrde, just after a vicious knife-fight with a rival gang leader Shard that left him bloodied and missing an ear.

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Karrde opened his eye slowly—just as he'd learned before, out in the field. He wanted to move; his muscles burned and ached, but he wouldn't stir until he knew where he was, and how he got there. Despite the awkward angle his neck lay at, he recognized the humble surroundings of Jacquelyn's kitchen at the Crooked Corners tavern. Sickly-pale light trickled from the kitchen windows; dawn had come.

He straightened his posture and rose to his boots. His paw felt for his assorted weaponry and returned empty—typical of domestic beasts to remove sharp objects from witty creatures. Or what was it Jac had warned him about before? Something about passing out in the Corners...pocketed items were up for grabs, or some such offal. Somebeast had—albeit crudely—bandaged his head, though from the looks of one of the straggling pieces that dangled in his peripheral, Jac had cannibalized her apron to stymie his blood loss.

Karrde heard a hiss and turned towards it, wincing as he did; the missing ear sent a painful reminder across his torn scalp and through his skull. Koubek the marten nodded timidly from the corner of the kitchen, weapon drawn, and gave a general salute to the fox.

"Spat, but I thoughts you was the spirit of ol' Slagar hisself," Koubek said with a groan, sheathing his knife.

Karrde glowered at the suggestion. "Chickenhound wouldn't waste a climb from 'gates to spook a dob like you, Koubek." He waved the marten over and Koubek complied, allowing the chieftan to ease his weight onto the raccoon's shoulder.

"See'n you rise, all blooded up 'n' such," Koubek said. He shook his head as his dark thoughts continued. "Ready t'eat a warm body whole, I say."

"You say much, and yet you say nothing," Karrde said as they hobbled through the kitchen. Karrde felt a twinge of pride as they backtracked a slender bloodstain on the kitchen floor...a stain, he knew, that came from his own wounds. He kicked open the door between the tavern and the kitchen. "Perhaps you'll be considerate...and shut your chops... before I decide to take off my other ear."

"As you say, Cap!" Koubek said, nodding. He helped Karrde out onto the tavern floor and eased him into a chair before clapping his paws and whistling through two digits in his mouth. "Oy, Strayers! Father's up!"

An excited chorus of whistles, shouts and yelps mixed with the sounds of chairs falling, glasses breaking and tables pushed aside as the ragamuffin members of Karrde's street warriors gathered around the fox's chair. In all, over fifteen Strayers reported before Karrde.

"Yer look a spot'a health, Cap," Wyla the rat said.

"Better than that fat slob Shard," Karrde said. He accepted  a fresh brew from Bostitch and drank until satisfied. "Did his pawns find him?"

"Unless they're daft," Bostitch said. "We strung 'im up the flagpole in Zigu. He was still there an hour ago!"

"Good; the birds will feast for a week," Karrde said with a smirk, prompting several of the Strayers to chuckle and nod their approval. Karrde gestured to Bostitch and pushed away the beer. "I have an assignment for you...and that hare, Yancy."

"Spread out!" Bostitch called, straddling the chair opposite Karrde. The other Strayers went back to their tables or exited the tavern while Bostitch leaned closer to the fox. "What can I do?"

"You remember where Shard used to have his meetings?" Karrde grimaced at the ever-present throbbing on the left side of his head and gripped the edge of the table, burying his claws into the wood to relieve the tension. "Hmm? Rancid spot behind one of the dumps."

"I remember," Bostitch said.

"I want you to take Yancy and go down there, and make an announcement: any Shard that wants to join the Strayers gets a free pass tonight. I won't pass judgment or slip 'em the shiv when their backs are turned—"

"But—!"

"I'm talking, Bostitch." The ferret swallowed and bowed his head momentarily, allowing Karrde to continue his thoughts. "No Strayer will harm them, understand? We have bigger goals ahead. I have a vision."

Bostitch twisted his snout. "What's that?"

Karrde blinked. "A vision?"

Bostitch grinned sheepishly. "No, Cap...I understand what a vision is. Like an apostrophe—"

"Epiphany, and...somewhat."

Bostitch clapped his paws together. "What's the idea, Cap? Where're you takin' us?"

Karrde squeezed at the wood in his paw until he felt it splinter and shatter. "Mossmire under the boot of Strayers. No more gang wars. No more street fights. All 'special imports,' all bootlegged liquor, all 'rub-outs' and 'squelches,'...all of it! Completely under our control."

"We could charge what we want to, walk where we want to...Cap, we'd own the city!"

Karrde released his grip on the table and eased back into his chair. "Very good, Bostitch. Tell me what you're going to do for me?"

"Get Yancy, go down to the Shards' meetin' place," Bostitch said, counting off on his paw, "give 'em the talk and invite them in." He paused and looked up at Karrde. "What if they say no?"

Karrde leaned across the table until Bostitch flinched. "We slaughter the rest!" Karrde turned and grinned, then slapped Bostitch atop his head. "Now get going; I have some business to discuss."

[Captain Tammo]

Hey Frost, this is pretty good! How did the RP end up finishing (if you remember)?

Also, favorite quote: "Chickenhound wouldn't waste a climb from 'gates to spook a dob like you, Koubek." Just thought it was some pretty creative wording!

[Maudie]

I really like the way you've set this up! We have a non-traditional Redwall setting--a tavern--and traditional Redwall speech but with some non-traditional slang. You've really taken the world of Redwall and made it your own.