The air was still cold as the shadows of the night still hid among the rocks, slowly being uncovered by the sun. The walls of the canyon where dusty and unforgiving, and looked on with a cold heart as the otter cub was pushed up it's slopes by a foreign claw.
Vickbald the Voyager was at his old trade again, finding and forcing his way through new territory. If the area was not suitable for his country men's settlements, he would take what he could and move on. This land that lay before him however, was ideal, if only for the natives. After he had insulted a tribe and found his party in danger he grabbed his way out. The chiefs son had been driven along ahead of them for a good part of the night. The otter's name was Gosnih, though they neither cared nor needed it.
"Get up there you little three legged walrus," cursed a member of the raiding party as he kicked him up the next rock ledge.
They were all tired, far from the sea, far from help and hunted.
The war drums sounded from out side every tent of every warrior in the tribal camp, quick, fierce, and vengeful. A great column of smoke billowing from a fire in the center on the encampment alerting those all around to join the hunt, to kill the bane from the western sea.
The slain chief was resting in the first morning rays on a platform high in the trees, his spirit awaiting to be at peace. And his avenger and nephew, Eagle Tears ready to wash his land free of the dark cloud that had past through.
An aging female Groundhog pushed her way through the raiding party until she stood in the dark shadows behind Vickbald. Checking her quiver was full enough to satisfy her, the groundhog unshouldered her bow and called to the leader of the raider.
"Vick, I'm back from patrol. The tribal drums echo through the dawn. They are gearing up for war. A war which we're not prepared for. Shall I delay them?"
<|O|>
On a high ridge some distance from the tribe's camp, two coyotes peered down at the proceedings below. The male, with dusty red fur, scattered their campfire and remarked to his sister.
"Well, Raging Rapids, it looks like that tribe-"
"-Aren't going to be very still for long? Yes, brother, they certainly do not seem very happy. One would even go as far-"
"-As to say they were about to begin some campaign of bloody vengeance."
Raging Rapids nodded, her matted, blue-grey fur clinging to her skin as she waded out of a nearby creek, pulling a young alligator behind her on a short length of rope.
"This should be very interesting. Shall we-"
"-Follow them? Sounds like a good plan to me, always scraps thrown away at the campfires of lazy beasts..."
"But they don't look lazy, in fact-"
"-They look the exact opposite. No matter, I think they would benefit-"
"From our unique set of skills? Perhaps. The tribals have always been good to us, when-"
"-We actually made contact with them. Perhaps it is time?"
"Time to return the favor? Yes, Dancing Flame, I believe that that would be most wise."
"Young Milkie, wake up! Time for some action! The war drums are ringing!"
The urgent pleadings of a middle-aged chipmunk repeatedly played through their little teepee as he shook a young prairie dogmaid off her slumber, which she retaliated by stirring half awake several times. Then a hard slap aimlessly struck through his head, which sent him temporarily spinning.
"Are the spirits stir ye awake, Milk-of-Moon, maiden of the canyons?"
The young dogmaid, freshly roused from sleep, didn't look very amused. "Keep your mouth shut, Harkie. Only a maiden like me likes to be awake at the right time, with no annoying spirits to stir me."
She paused to get a quick ear on the faint sound of the war drums echoing outside. A sense of curiosity and urgency seized her into action, prompting her for some quick grooming, assisted by Harkahome. Having done preparing themselves, the prairie dog and the chipmunk left their teepee, the spirit of curiosity already possessing on them.
Eagle Tears noticed the silhouette of two lone creatures as they came over a ridge, and thought to him self, "Here they start to come, good, our numbers grow. Soon there will be enough for several parties to be sent, cover more ground that way. I will need to..."
His mind was taken off of this as he noticed another pair, from within the camp, seemingly ready to take part.
"I hope they know what they are in for."
"Why you little upstart!" the ferret leader rounded on her, "What took you so long to tell me what I already know!? Slow them down, Ha! Why you couldn't even... ah, go ahead make e'm sorry to be on our backs." He was actually realived to have her off on another mission, though he was worried about the drums.
"Be back at noon, beyond that Inselberg, or we leave you behind."
OOC: Sorry if that sounded a little rough, just trying to stay in character ;)
Dancing flame noticed Eagle Tears glancing at them, and ducked behind a rockfall. Raging Rapids followed her brother to the hiding place.
"They see us. Shall we-"
"-Wait here? Yes. I don't know if-"
"-They trust us? True. It is best if we take a detour around the camp-"
"-and meet them enroute? Good idea."
The two coyotes stole away back over the ridge.
<|O|>
The groundhog, who was called Stalks-in-Shadow, rolled her eyes at Vickbald and spat.
"Fine, you keep running away like the ungrateful coward you are, and I'll go and deal with the natives."
The groundhog stepped backwards into the shadows, vanishing in an instant.
Milk-of-Moon's footpaws dashed through the clearing and into the platform where the otter chief Eagle Tears stood, with Harkahome following on her wake. Upon glancing the dashing otter, she couldn't help but smile as she bowed low at his footpaws.
"Any sign of my parents? Have they ret--"
Harkahome clapped his paw to her mouth. "They've never come back for good, so I'm the one who is raising you."
"Silence, old mouse!" the prairie dogmaid snapped, then turned to the otter. "By the way, any sign of duty laid upon the maiden's paws sent by the moon?"
Mostsqueh stayed low in the shadows cast by the camp's tepees. His good eye spotted out the creatures who were already on the hunt. Before continuing his truck on the ridge, the disfigured Jack Rabbit jumped to the ground and began feeling the rough and loamy make up of the land. A smile crossed over his scarred face. Just as quickly as he had gotten down, he rose, putting his fox-head hood on in the process. The ground felt good, rich, and full. Just what he needed. Mostsqueh hurried down to where the head otter was, hoping to get a word in of high findings. With great joy, he brandished his double headed tomahawk and continued his run.
When he arrived to Eagle Tears, his undid his hood and stood close behind as the chief addressed the two. But before stepping in his shadow, Mostsqueh quickly clenched his open paw open and close many times, displaying the message that he needed his attention. With that, he stood back, tightening his already firm grip on his weapon.
The constant pounding of the drums had started a fire in Namas' chest, the vibrations coursing through the ground and air. He crouched on the ground in front of his mother, his quiver full, and knife hanging in its sheath from his neck. The female ocelot held a jar of red and blue dye which she dabbed her paws into carefully. Namas preferred the yellow color, but his light fur negated the look leaving him only with the options of green, blue, and red. Green looked awful on an ocelot so the only option was red and blue.
Quivering with impatience Namas clenched and unclenched his bow silently urging her to hurry, but she was persistent. Dabbing at his muzzle, she drew circles around his eyes and traced blue down the back of his neck and forehead. Red stripes down his cheeks finished the look.
"Stay safe," She whispered pressing a paw on his chest leaving a red imprint. "Return alive, but do your tribe proud." She purred. The dye would dry quickly making it almost impossible to remove until the fur shed. Namas flashed his teeth touching the red paw print that rested over his heart.
"I will, I shall honor the name of my father and the spirits. And, bring you back a gift ma." She tried to embraced him but Namas pulled away not wanting any of his friends to see. Giving a yell and a encouraging smile Namas ducked out of the teepee and sprinted off towards Eagle Tears holding his unstrung bow over his head. Chanting and stamping his footpaws in time with the other warriors. Namas was on his first war trail, and hew as determined to make it great.
"Why yes," answered the otter warrior to the two indians before him, "It would help greatly if you were to gather together the traveling packs, though make them light. I trust this will be a fast paced expedition." He hoped that they wouldn't be quite the greenhorns of the hunt as they at first seemed, but willingness and enthusiasm certainly wasn't lacking.
He was getting impatient to start, but some things just needed to be done, and he would be glad for them later. He would be taking a score of his tribe with him, and any outsiders who might be of value to the chase. Those who know of the land even better that he did, for they were part of it. Several of his party were to be new spears, but they would be ready to prove themselves and have more energy than some of the old campaigners.
One such elder and wild thing looked to be seeking his attention, he hoped it was worth his time. Yet something made him feel it was of value, and would lead to a successful start.
The Raider already in a bad mood rounded up the rest of his command and force marched them onward. He would come through, even if it took every last beast, friend and foe alike.
OOC: I'm guessing the "Elder" is Mostsqueh, but if not, then oh well.
BIC: The Jack Rabbit blinked rapidly as his leader turned to talk with him.
"Soil and Ground speak truth sir. They say and feel that the hunt will be strong, and fruitful for the Tribe. I promise, the Ground never lies."
The chipmunk mused at his guardian, a sense of euphoria already evident on his face. "So what do you think, moon-face? Is that all right for us?"
Milk-of-Moon stroked her chin, then chimed in, "Sounds quite good, but it would be better if I could do this all by myself." As she was uttering her last phrase, a cunning tone crept into her voice. Today would be another perfect opportunity to show off the best of the prairie dog's abilities of sorting and packing, perhaps in the fastest possible time.
Harkahome, seemingly quite displeased at the prairie dogmaid's words, chided in a comical way. "No, young maiden! We can do this together!" He could sense her naiveness in the meaning of teamwork, even though she was a grown-up now, not a Dibbun anymore. Not technically a Dibbun as she used to be, but still acting like one.
Silence gripped the young Milk-of-Moon in contempt, who was scrambling to their tepee to bundle up their belongings, leaving the chipmunk watching in the distance while scratching his head in confusion.
"Catch me up later, deal?" Harkahome muttered to himself, even though he was addressing his guardian. And he joined the Jack Rabbit and the others present, hoping to start a conversation with them.
OOC-
Where Do I hop in?
OOC:
Just get your characters out of their tepees and over to Eagles Tears, I'm guessing.
The otter, Chosovi, awoke to the sound of his tribemates gathering by their chief.
How dare he sleep in this late? The otter frowned disappointedly and got up, shaking the dirt off his fur to make himself presentable.
Then he yanked the blanket off Fishpaw.
The scrawny pine marten grumbled and curled up, opening one hazel eye to stare up at his father before flipping over and pretending to be asleep again.
Now, Fishpaw was Chosovi's adopted son--the otter had raised him as his own after finding him abandoned as a babe, with nobeast else willing.
Though the otter loved him, he could get quite irritated at times. Especially when Fishpaw's natural hotheadedness got him into trouble.
He crouched down and shook him a bit roughly, saying, "The Chief calls for a meeting. Who are you not to attend?"
Fishpaw sneered and got up, brushing Chosovi off.
"Alright, alright! I'm goin'." He snorted and adjusted his oversized tunic before racing out of the teepee, Chosovi walking calmly behind him.
He'd mature one day.
Groth de Formello Tussock of House Thistledown slowly, drunkenly removed himself from his tent. With a quick, punctual swear he started out the day, adding on a sentence. "Quit 'at bangin', yee! T'ain't near toime for 'ee to be awoked, 'specially when I'm gettin' personal with a barrel of October Ale!". The armadillo removed himself from the tent fully, sitting by the fire, tugging his wheeled barrel of Ale (upon which cups, flagons, and smaller barrels were tied, along with a bag of corks and a few spices, as well as pots, pans, and other fare, most of it being used for cooking). "Now, what's all we're gunna do now?"
Falling Flower strode through the camp, beasts hurrying out of his way. The badger was furious as never before, for he had admired the Chief and his death was far too similar to what had happened all those years ago. He chastised himself mentally for bringing back memories of that day, and was shaken out of his reverie by a young pine marten bumping into him.
"What do you want, young one?" He growled, clenching the haft of his tomahawk harder.
OOC: Sorry for the little PPing there.
OOC-
It's fine. ;D
IC-
Fishpaw frowned, eyeing the badger carefully.
"I dono, what do you want, eh? Outta my way." He snorted and stepped around the badger, making his way over to the slightly younger Namas.
Harkahome eyed the armadillo called Groth with curious eyes, hoping to be handed with some foreign drink. "Hey, Silver Shield! How's your day? Can ye have some drink from you, if you please?" He was interrupted by a sudden slap across his arm, and it turned out to be the prairie dogmaid herself! She had been obviously finished from stacking, and she had come to analyze the happenings of the others, perhaps to be fit in or judge them if she could.
"Greetings, Silver Shield!" she smiled as she introduced herself. "I am Milk-of-Moon from the Tribe of the Silver Creek. I have come for your strange drink, which I guess it belongs to my tribe. Hand me just one beaker of it, and the spirits will be pleased with you."
(OOC: For your information, "Silver Shield" was the name they made up for Groth.)
Spotting Fishpaw's approach Namas pushed past two of the chanting warriors joining the pine marten. Laughing he thumped his chest grinning like a wild thing.
"Ready for a good hunt Fish?" He asked having to crane his neck slightly to look into Fishpaw's eyes. He was small for an ocelot, but it didn't usually bother him.
"Yeah, yeah, sure." Fishpaw said, gazing about.
"Though on a day like t'day, there's nothin' better t' do than sleep as long as ya wish. Couldn't old Eagles Tears hold this later...I'd hold it later."
Groth nodded "Aye, I'll get 'ee a beaker of it roight quick". 'Silver Shield' filled up a beaker that was hanging off his barrel, filling it top of the forest glass container, handling it over, some of the foam falling to the dirt from the drunken armadillo's drunken movement. "I ought to 'dad back to House Thistledown or Camp Tussock soon, but I'd feel like a sour stoat if I din't 'ell get 'ee kiddo back. S'pose I ought to come along." He poured himself a hefty dose of strawberry fizz with rum, sending the strange mixture down his gullet with a swift movement of wrist and jaw, the stuff dissapearing quite rapidly. He lazily eyed his quickly depleting supply with slight worry, shrugging it off and hoping they stopped at some civilized community in their quest.
((When do we head off?))
Falling Flower looked at the pine marten with disdain and walked on towards Eagle's Tears.
"The old chieftain was a competent leader and his rule was benevolent. I hope you carry on his legacy, Chief" He said.
Milk-of-Moon took the beaker from the armadillo's paws and tasted the strange drink. It tasted nothing like she had tasted, indeed, but it was very sweet and appealing. However, she could not finish it any further; instead, she poured a little of it into Harkahome's outstretched paws and stowed it away behind her.
With a sense of pride, she marched towards Fishpaw and Namas, hoping to demonstrate them with some of her best war-like abilities.
"Hey, Namas, lookit this!" Fishpaw snickered, turning round to face Milk-of-Moon.
"My, my. I've never understood prairie dogs." He said, shaking his head mockingly. "Wonder what she's gonna do?"
The otter warrior looked around at those assembled, and nodded in appreciation to Falling Flower kind words. He mentally noted to himself to add the badger in his party.
"Noble Indians, brothers of the hunt. We will go in two parties, the first will be lead by this wise warrior Mostsqueh. Under his guidence will be those of the Nahuatl, Fishpaw, Milk-of-Moon, Harkahome, and Tussock for youngsters need good eating. You will travel fast and long, cutting the raiders off.
I am sorry Chosovi, but I need you with me, as well as Falling Flower, and who ever else we might pick up along the way."
He was thinking of the two creatures he had seen earlier in the morning on the ridge.
"My party will come at them straight, I trust Mostsqueh can piont us the way. The others will only prevent them from going farther, not to engage untill we do. Good hunting all, remember our first priority is to see our future chief safe."
And with that he lept down and joined in the war dance with the elders.
OOC: The first party may begin, try to make it challenging, and build your characters. There will be a few days traveling and camping ahead. My party will take off at my next post, I hope by then the coyotes will have joined us, feel free to further interact.
Also talk about your surroundings and terrain.
The Jack Rabbit nodded to his chief's orders then looked around at who would be in his party. A wind of disgust fell over him as he saw the ones appointed under him. It was especially the drunken armadillo who he held a grudge against the most. What good could he be in a hunting party? At least there was the chipmunk who had some sense. Much more than any other the others. Oh well, the earth stated what it had. Today would be the start of a good hunt.
Mostsqueh turned to Eagle Tear and and pulled a feather from the top of his fox-head hood. With grace, and bowed and bestowed it upon his new leader. "Good hunt. The Earth never lie." With that, he motioned for his group to gather around him before they started off. "Okay. Here is plan. We move up and along this ridge following canyon. From there, we try to push ahead of Vickbald. If we cannot get there in time, then we must press hard through canyon. Alright? The earth says today will be the start of a good hunt, and the earth never lie." He turned his head all the way to accommodate for his blind eye. Before he gave a chance for reply, he swing his tomahawk like a botan and held it ready for action.
OOC: Hope this alright Leatho.
Grinning awkwardly Namas scratched behind his ear not sure how to respond to Fishpaw. Both Milk-of-Moon and Fishpaw were his friends, and laughing for one at the expense of the other didn't come across well. Deciding to side with the older Fishpaw Namas let out a half chuckle while smiling apologetically at the prairie dog.
Eagle Tears voice silenced any continuing banter. Turning to listen, the ocelot gave his full attention to the otter leader. Once he was done Namas looked over the war party satisfied with their group. He was paired with Fishpaw, Milk, and the jack rabbit Mostsqueh. Along with the armadillo they called Tussock, and Milk's guardian Harkahome.
"A good hunt!" Namas chorused lifting his unstrung bow over his head. Inching over to Fishpaw and Milk he whispered hoping the jack rabbit wouldn't hear. "He looks like a warrior brave no? He has many scars from battles, methinks he will lead us well?" The comment was more of a question, Namas was trying to see what his two friends considered of the jack rabbit before conforming his opinion to theirs.
"No..." Fishpaw smirked and snorted, as if to hold back some stream of laughter that threatened to spill out. "Lookit that blind eye of his. He has many scars because he probably trips an' falls on everything that jumps in his path. Just watch." Crouching low and taking a stealthy few steps forward, the sandy-furred pine marten leapt out in front of Mortsqueh with a mock snarl on his face.
"Boo!"
Chosovi watched from a distance, unamused. Fishpaw didn't have tribe blood, nor anything close to it...and despite his elders' resistance, he'd insisted that they adopt him.
Every once in a while, he wondered if he'd made the right choice. Of course I have! He's my son.
The otter cast one last glance over his shoulder before following after the Chief.
"The young one must grow up one day..."
The Jack Rabbit responded quickly. He lept up, doing a flip in the air and landing behind Fishpaw. With a flash he had the pine marten flat on the ground with the handle of his tomahawk pressed against his throat. The axe heads reflected the torn and blinded face of Mostsqueh as he smiled at his approacher. "You and stupid you are. You follow leader, not scare." He lifted Fishpaw up made him look directly in his blind eye. "I see all, even if you can't see it." Once more, he flung the marten to the ground, and gave a small wink to Namas.
OOC: There was a lot of PP-I got there Ashleg. I can change it if needed.
OOC-
Nah. You're good. ;3
IC-
Fishpaw groaned and picked himself up, eyes blazing.
"Don't do that! Yore going to bend my earrings!" The marten snapped, dusting off his tunic. He then shot a glare at Namas before scampering up beside him and curling his claws in threateningly. "An' don't you dare laugh," he huffed. "I'd rather be anywhere but stuck here doin' this. Stupid elders...stupid Eagles Tears."
"Your earrings matter none when a hunt is on the day. Now, get ready. All of you for that matter." Mostsqueh gave a cold glance at his new group, followed by him putting on his fox-head hood. They better had start to head off, or the vermin would have more time to get farther ahead.
"Old creep, wearin' another creature's head..." Fishpaw said, muttering under his breath as he waited to get going.
Stifling a laugh Namas grinned sideways at Mostsqueh while helping Fishpaw up. He nodded mutely agreeing with everything Fishpaw had to say up until stupid Eagle Tears where he frowned not sure how to address it.
"Yeah, it must inspire terror into his enemies. At least its not a cat he's wearing." Namas said finally. He wasn't sure whether to be concerned or not, his own clothes were made out of other creatures, but the beaten leather no longer resembled or smelled of its original host. Shrugging he began running in place to warm up, small puffs of red dust billowed into the air as he slapped his footpaws down.
"Milk-of-Moon are you ready to run?" He asked trying to change the subject.
Dawn had been out with a scouting party, but ever since waking that morning, she couldn't shake a sense of dread that only increased the closer she came to the tribal grounds. Her compatriots weren't far behind her when she got a line of sight on her destination. After a quick wave, the Cheetah left them behind as she ran into the village, instinctively knowing that something wasn't right. Upon realizing that the drums being used were those of war, her fears were deepened, and the chaos in camp wasn't bringing much hope for good news. After arriving, she searched for an elder to ask what was going on, and after being a given a brief synopsis, waited for Eagle Tears to finish. From what she had gathered, there were going to be two parties, one that had already left, and the other waiting for he who appeared to be the new Chieftain. Dawn needed to know where her place was, the second group would probably be the main force, consisting of the majority of the tribe, but the first group didn't appear to have any beast with significant experience treating wound or illness. Her placement was a chip-toss, and if sending her after the first group was deemed desirable, the sooner this conversation happened the better.
Fishpaw shivered. "Cat, fox, weasel, whatever. It still gives me the willies!"
Groth ((That's his name, right? I'll check later)) eyed the leader. He was drinker than usual, knowing he wouldn't be able to imbibe on the warpath. It took a lot to get him drunk these days. He got up and began picking some herbs - rum with hotroot soup wouldn't do bad for the first night on the trail. He'd have to make a beer run into some civilization eventually - the main reason he didn't stay with the tribe as much as he'd like.
Marci Embarko awoke late that day, to find he had missed the entire sorting and organizing of the parties. Although the field mouse wasn't the brightest of the bunch, he was able to discern that some sort of expedition was being sent ahead.
Another hunt, just what he had hoped for! He rubbed his aching head, still smarting from falling headfirst into a tree during an unfortunate experience on his last hunt. He planned to fully recover and to make up for that humiliation. He unofficially joined the section officially led by Mostsqueh the Jack Rabbit, filtering into the back of the group.
As the Jack Rabbit proceeded to unreasonably punish a Pine Martin, Marci Embarko suddenly realized something: he had never been in charge. It had always been a big dream of his to lead a hunting party. Mostsqueh seemed somewhat occupied by his hood and Fishpaw, so now was the perfect opportunity to take the lead.
Marci marched straight forward, which by some miracle, happened to be the correct direction.
"Well, uh... C'mon then you lot! Never mind that Hare, Rabbit thing - (he doesn't have any ears anyhow!) Just, um, come this way! I'm in charge now, see? Haha, march you miserable, froglegged, misfortunate er... maggots! I'll rip yer ears off and feed 'em to ya if you don't get movin'! Haha, no offense meant Mostsqueh, I'll just rip yer arms off instead!"
The Jack Rabbit quickly turned his head towards the field mouse who seemed to be taking command. Anger filled him once more. With a great force, he grabbed thee ear of the disorderly mouse and flung him to the ground, much like he had done to Fishpaw. His scarred and mangled face cast a shadow of dominance and fear onto the small creature.
"You see fox on head? He acted like you. Above me. Look where he is now. Where he wanted to be." Mostsqueh turned from his victim and looked at the rest of the group. "Now, no more acts like this. We leave now. Follow." With a heavy turn, he faced a slowly rising ridge, and began to walk towards it, motioning for the rest to follow.
"Did the poor liddle mousie get 'is head tossed in the dirt? Hahahaw!" Fishpaw laughed uproariously as he strode past Marci. "Don't worry, we can get back at him t'gethe rand make creepy outfits outta him."
"That will be a day," sated Mostsqueh as he continued to head for the ridge.
Marci rubbed a small trail of blood from the offended ear, and groaned in pain. His ear felt as though it had been torn off of his head. His face and hair were coated with mud, and he spat and rubbed his eyes clean. As Fishpaw strode past, offering a most encouraging choice of words, Marci glowered at the backs of both the Pine Martin and the Jack Rabbit:
"Ain't no liddle mousie!"
But his frustration was soon forgotten due to the prospect of making clothing articles out of the limbs of Mostsqueh. He jogged past the group to catch back up to Fishpaw, and fell in step beside him.
"Ha, as though you coulda done any better, you took a beating yourself Fishpaw. But aye, we could get him back, and I got some great plans for making cloths outta that rabbit! Why I'll bet I could make a nice homely fur coat fer my old ma, and a rug to match it! Well, what are you going to make out of him?"
"Earrings, since he thinks they're petty." Said Fishpaw, bounding cheerfully along.
"An' we could make cloaks with the rest of him. Shouldn't be too hard, with a proper plan..."
Marci was thoroughly enjoying himself now. He blundered loudly through the brush and tripped over roots as he hurried along:
"Oo, cloaks would be nice! Hehe, I've always liked a good cloak - they make me feel ominous and mysterious! I dunno how you would manage to make earrings out of rabbit skin though. Maybe my old ma could give you a few pointers, she's got some nice earrings. Err, speaking of which I think that earring on the ear you landed on may be bent..."
"I know it's bent, no need t' point it out!" Fishpaw yowled, trudging on ahead with one paw covering the damaged accessory.
"...I'll make a cloak outta him yet." The marten grumbled.
OOC: Figured it was about time I posted again. When is the tribe actually going to move?
BIC:
On the ridge overlooking the tribe, Dancing Flame and Raging Rapids had been travelling along the stream for some time. Raging Rapids suddenly stopped walking, diving into the water. She emerged shortly after with the alligator draped over her shoulder.
"I think it is-"
"-Time to stop? Yes, that-"
"-Sounds like a good idea. After all-"
"-Somebeast is approaching. Should you-"
"-Let the creature see if they are friend-"
"-Or foe. Yes, brother, a-"
"-Good plan. Do it!"
Raging Rapids smirked, dropping the short leash linking the alligator to her. A low growl echoed from the strange creature's throat as it disappeared into the rushes.
<|O|>
Stalks-In-Shadow wiped an ocean of sweat from her brow, panting heavily. She was used to tailing beasts through canyons, isolating them and killing them one by one. Not work that required too much manual labor. And here, in this wretched part of the land, that simply wasn't possible. The tribe were refusing to move, follow the canyons. She had to deal with them now, or be left behind. Still, the ridge would offer a vantage point, she'd told herself.
"Fat chance of that..."
The groundhog jumped in terror at a sound, some sort of rough grating noise. She had heard that noise before. Stalks-In-Shadow shouldered her bow, arrows never worked on these things, and took out her knife. A long, curved, dagger of forged steel. A prized possession, stolen from some careless beast in her youth. The groundhog always loved when she got to use her knife. It never failed her; never broke, always cut deep, always killed. The grating became louder, bushes by the river swaying like crazy. And then...it stopped. The thing retreated back into the water. Stalks-In-Shadow grumbled and sheathed her knife. Sure, alligators were dangerous things, but she NEVER got to use the knife. The groundhog took out her bow again and continued to trudge along the ridge. She saw...something...in the corner of her eye. It was in the water, and almost looked like a part of the river. But it was standing. She notched an arrow to her bow and turned to face the thing, which was a strangely-colored coyote. But before she could loose a shaft, she felt something at her neck. Something hot. Another coyote, his fur a dusty reddish-orange, had a flaming torch pressed against her throat. The fire licked at her ear, hurting like Hellgates. With his spare paw, the coyote swatted the bow out of her paws.
"Who are you? Why-"
"-Did you come here?"
Raging Rapids emerged from the creek, holding her spear in one paw and the alligator's leash in the other.
"Uhhh...I-I'm just a traveler..."
Dancing Flame swatted her roughly with the torch.
"Gaaah! I-It's...true! Why are you doing this?"
"Liar! Raging Rapids saw you-"
"-With the raiders, just-"
"Two suns ago. You-"
"-Came back to finish-"
"-The job, didn't you?"
Stalks-In-Shadow gulped. How did they know?
"I...Fine. You got me. I came back to kill the new chief, slow them down. You got a problem with that? You two don't even look like you're with them!"
"We're not. But-"
"We aren't friends with the raiders, either."
"True, sister, true. I suggest we give the tribe-"
"-A present. Their gratitude will bring gifts. Clothing, weapons, food-"
"-Water..."
The two creatures grabbed Stalks-In-Shadow and dragged her towards the edge of the ridge. The groundhog tried to protest, but her lies fell on deaf ears. Raging Rapids held her in place while Dancing Flame brandished his torch. Winding up his arm, the coyote swung the torch like a club, hitting Stalks-In-Shadow square in the gut. She grunted and took a step back in shock. Right off the edge of the ridge. The two coyotes watched with satisfaction as the groundhog continued to pick up speed and roll down the hill.
"The tribe will find her,-"
"-Let them deal with her..."
The ragged tribe was still marching steadily. Morning was past and evening was approaching. Marci enjoyed his rest greatly, and was more than ready for one. He stifled a yawn and vented his frustration on a muddy puddle, soaking a strange prairie dog that was walking directly in front of him. Revenge was not far off, however, as a groundhog shot into the tribe's midst as though fired from a cannon. Marci took the full momentum of the speeding groundhog straight to the back of the head, and he collapsed face down, completely unconscious.
With the main body of the tribe packed up and ready he called for them to begin their march.
"To the justice of the land, to the purifying of it with foreign blood, we go!"
He set out at the head of them, with the morning dust parting around them.
OOC: I suppose I'll be the first one to revive this...
Quote from: Izza on April 22, 2016, 02:07:30 PM
Revenge was not far off, however, as a groundhog shot into the tribe's midst as though fired from a cannon. Marci took the full momentum of the speeding groundhog straight to the back of the head, and he collapsed face down, completely unconscious.
This was kinda PP-ing, but it looks like Izza isn't a member anymore :'(. Retcon time.
BIC:
Stalks-In-Shadow found herself nearing the bottom of the slope. She bounced off a particularly springy bush, rolled slightly, and thudded to the ground, sending up a small cloud of dust. The groundhog's paw instinctively reached for her knife. At least the two strange coyotes had not taken it from her. She noticed a strange-looking creature, some sort of grey squirrel, dozing on top of a nearby rock, his fur making him blend in quite well with the stone.
The lazy treejumper must have slept in, missed the tribe, she thought. Stalks-In-Shadow waited until the tribe was a considerable distance away, before she pressed the dagger to his throat and dragged him off the rock. The squirrel burst awake and tried to struggle away, but the groundhog's dagger soon made him sit quietly.
"Do not struggle. Do not try to run, or alert your tribe. You're going ta tell me everythin' about them. Where they're goin', 'ow many of them there is. Don't talk too loudly, because I'll cut your throat if anybeast from the tribe hears you, and comes back to investigate. Speak!"
The groundhog nodded with satisfaction as the terrified squirrel explained everything to the best of his abilities. Her investigation complete, Stalks-In-Shadow lashed forwards, plunging her dagger into his throat. She wiped the blade on the squirrel's fur, and started to creep back up to the path in the hills.
OOC: Bump?
I don't think he heard you, he needs more.
,
@Leatho Shellhound .
OOC: I normally don't condone this course of action but.....
@Leatho Shellhound !
Sob...
Umm... Overkill, you think? Nobody else needed to mention Leatho after the first mention was posted. ::)
... :(
OOC: I'm so sorry I was in Europe and hardly had any internet.... my life has picked up a lot of speed at late.