The Eagles Tears

[Leatho Shellhound]

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.

[Groddil]

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."

[Dotti Dillworthy]

"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.

[Leatho Shellhound]

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

[Groddil]

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.

[Dotti Dillworthy]

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?"

[Gonff the Mousethief]

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.

[LT Sandpaw]

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.

[Leatho Shellhound]

"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.

[Gonff the Mousethief]

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."

[Dotti Dillworthy]

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.

[Ashleg]

OOC-
Where Do I hop in?

[Groddil]

OOC:

Just get your characters out of their tepees and over to Eagles Tears, I'm guessing.

[Ashleg]

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.

[Blaggut]

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?"