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| When The Commanders Are Away...; The Long Patrol will... shout a lot. | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 28 2008, 07:11 AM (354 Views) | |
| Enamel Pardon | Jul 19 2008, 09:33 AM Post #11 |
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Ruler of Specifics
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"Scmrffngl," proclaimed Colonel S. E. Pardon, who, it must be said, was a very happy hare. A cook had promptly strode over to him after his speech, took his fork, and jammed it in the bottom of her wooden salad bowl. It was at least five pounds. He hadn't taken his face out of it since his rear end had found his chair again. "Oh? Nephew? Which one? Lesse... Eames? Ebenaceae? Ebullience?" He frowned at his salad, then brightened up. "Enamel! Hah, yes... he's a dawdler, wot. Can't do anything about 'em. Lad'd sooner starve himself than miss out seeing a peacock's shadow on a moonless night." S.E. sampled one of the many juice jugs going around, losing his glasses in one of them and shrugging it off. "So wot about you, Commander Russet? Any relations around th'Fort?" |
Sergeant Enamel Pardon ![]() Can't keep my eyes from the circling skyTongue-tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit, I...my other char's a mouse: Corporal Simon Flynn
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| Orion Fulcry | Jul 31 2008, 04:46 PM Post #12 |
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Level One Writer
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((Aw, poor, liddle 'Namel.)) "Honestly, Mr. Fulcry! A glass of water and a slice of nutbread? You're going to waste away on food like that!" It was a slow day at Compass Point Inn. So slow, in fact, that - outside of those in their rooms - Orion was the only customer in the dining area. As a result, Burku had little to do but converse with him. And criticize his eating habits. "What you need," the elderly squirrel admonished. "Is a nice, big mug of warm bilberry cordial and a nice, big bowl of my potato stew. It's just the thing for a rainy day such as this one." Orion hid a smile. He liked Burku. She made him think of a mother - not his mother, of course; the two were very different. But perhaps what his mother might have become in later years. "I'm afraid I'm not much one for alcoholic drinks," he replied evenly. "And stew just doesn't sound very appetizing right now." Burku threw up her arms in exasperation. "So be it. A glass of water and a slice of nutbread it is." She turned abruptly and strode purposefully into the kitchen. Orion smiled and he leaned back in his seat, enjoying the warmth of the room as he idly looked out a window at the pouring rain. It had picked up in the past little while, as though the sky was trying to water the earth for the next three seasons - either that, or it was the sky shedding tears over the tragic death of a loved one. He shivered and decided he liked his first comparison better. I just hope it lets up a bit soon. It'd be miserable to have to go out in... The creaking of the front door interrupted Orion's thoughts. Sitting up straighter, he peered curiously at the wooden door. Had it really opened? Yes, he could see a sliver of outside through the slight opening. He frowned. Doors weren't supposed to open on their own. But if there was someone there, why hadn't they come inside? A strong gust of wind sent the door swinging open the rest of the way, drops of rain swirling inside and delightedly exploring this newfound playspace. In the doorframe stood...no one. Blast it. Jumping to his feet, Orion bounded across the room. Grabbing the door handle, he was about to slam it shut when something on the doorstep caught his attention. Looking more closely, he realized what - or, to be more accurate, who - it was. "By the fur..." |
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Lieutenant Orion Fulcry ((( ![]() ![]() )))Life + Universe + Everything = 42 Alt: Amos Charp | |
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| Teren Bocere | Jul 31 2008, 09:43 PM Post #13 |
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Level Two Poster
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"Of course we need the grog." Captain Byrne McSwaffle, Terror of the High Seas, sniffed regally and glared at his second-in-command. "How in 'Gates, m' lad, do you expect us to survive on land, dry land I might add, without a sufficient quantity of grog? Can't be done! Got to have a good supple to lighten our spirits as we confront these dreadful Black Archers of Foot." "Um," his first mate said, privately of the opinion that the black Captain McSwaffle wouldn't be without grog anywhere, land, sea, or anything in between. "It's Black Arch Fort, Cap'n, according to the locals. Don't know what they call them." Captain McSwaffle considered this for a moment and then nodded. "Fair enough. Anyway, whatever they may be called, the place is sure to be full of loot. Loot is good, Briny. Remember that. Never pass up on loot." "Aye, Cap'n." The two were standing next to a river, in the middle of a make-shift camp. Or, rather, it seemed make-shift at first- being ramshackle, messy, and dirty- but on second look it was quite secure. A steep hill curved around two sides, sentries stationed atop it, and the broad river mouth edged the third. The fourth had been excavated into a ditch and earthen wall. Somebeast had put a pole with a dirty sock on it, for a banner. McSwaffle rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. It was secure enough. McSwaffle was a slender, well-dressed, ferret. He was a pirate of the more genteel class, that preferred talking politely to their victims before running them through, and lamenting the general lack of education of the rest of the vermin population. It was supposed by his crew that he was smart enough, though most of the time he didn't act it. At the moment, he was filled to the brim with smug satisfaction about his delightfully dastardly plan. Great pirates, to be TRULY great pirates, needed a substantial place to stash all the loot they got. McSwaffle wasn't a fan of burying it in a random hole for everybeast and their cousin Fluffy to find while he was away, so he had opted for a more well-guarded place. Why not a fortress, he thought. Why not a place to settle down and swig grog in the winter when the pirating gets a bit chilly, he thought. And why not just nick somebeasts' place instead of building his own? It was an amazing plan. "So," McSwaffle said cheerfully to Briny. He turned elegantly and looked down at a row of beasts, their paws tied to stakes driven hard into the ground. A smile crossed his face. "How are our little captives getting along? Ready to tell us all about their lovely little home? Oh, do tell us. It will be such fun. We can all go there and drink grog, how about?" The five Black Arch guards looked at him in horror and defiance. McSwaffle just laughed. Oh, yes. His plan was coming along quite well. They wouldn't know what hit them. |
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| Enamel Pardon | Aug 5 2008, 05:31 AM Post #14 |
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Ruler of Specifics
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Burku nearly dropped the glass of water. Which is an interesting thing indeed, because the slice of nutbread in her paw was squeezed into a pile of crumbs. But then again, perhaps it wasn't so interesting; perhaps she almost dropped the nutbread as well. Perhaps if glass was a less solid material, it too would have crumbled. Dire things to ponder indeed! "Fates have mercy - who is it? Nevermind, nevermind!" The squirrel hid her panic well, placing the glass and birdfeed (unless Orion didn't mind lots of bits) on a table and rushing over to help Orion drag Enamel in. "Let's just get him by the fire first." As they moved him, she took stock of the situation. Torn clothing, soaking, mud-spattered, bleeding at the footpaw - was than an arrow? Yes it was - and something vaguely pinkish green down his front. This wouldn't do at all. "Mr. Fulcry, try to remove his uniform without hurting him. He may be damaged in other places, so be slow and gentle. Oh dear. Oh dear. Vermin! It must be... Are they close, I wonder? Right! Right. Thinking straight... There's old Furmble upstairs, but he's drunk... but he'll do to watch the perimeter. I'm sure we've got a spare hare or squirrel to send message to the Fort... Never a worse time, all the Commanders off! There's towels in the back, Mr. Fulcry, and I'll be back down in a jiffy!" Burku finally shut her maw and marched upstairs to alert beasts and gather medicinal supplies and towels. |
Sergeant Enamel Pardon ![]() Can't keep my eyes from the circling skyTongue-tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit, I...my other char's a mouse: Corporal Simon Flynn
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| Jacob Scobin | Aug 5 2008, 08:39 PM Post #15 |
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Level One Poster
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"'M no squirrel or hare, marm, but I should do in a pinch." Jacob had appeared at the base of the stairs, seemingly from nowhere. In truth, he had been sitting motionless in a dark corner with a thick, hooded cloak swathed about his body. "Who should I bring back?" Burku turned quickly at the top of the stairs. "Jacob! Good! Run to the fort and tell them Pardon here's got an arrow in his footpaw - tell whoever's in charge! Go on! Move yer rudder!" Jacob pushed through the door and vanished into the rain, sloshing and slipping towards the fort as quickly as his footpaws would take him. |
| Jacob Scobin | |
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| Orion Fulcry | Aug 9 2008, 02:32 AM Post #16 |
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Level One Writer
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Orion gently lowered Enamel onto the rug by the fireplace, face grim. What had the young fool gotten himself into this time? He sent a quick glance through the open door, out into the pouring rain, searching for movement - anything that didn't belong. But what was this? Burku was talking to him. Spurred into action, the red squirrel crouched next to Enamel, dagger in paw. With one deft movement, he sliced open Enamel's tattered shirt, from navel to neck. It was hardly more than rags anyways. Forgoing modesty, Orion also made short work of Enamel's pants, piling the clothing in a sodden heap next to him. Hardly taking any notice of Jacob's appearance and subsequent disappearance, Orion set about thoroughly inspecting Enamel for any wounds besides - the obvious one. Aside from some small cuts and abrasions - and likely some bruises somewhere, Orion couldn't tell - Enamel seemed to be unharmed but for the arrow shaft protruding mockingly from his leg (unless you want him injured more?). Above him, Orion could hear the patter of feet and the sounds of agitated voices. Burku had clearly already rousted everyone out of bed. Hoisting Enamel's footpaw up, Orion gave a closer inspection to the arrow. It didn't appear to be bleeding, thanks in large part to the copious amount of mud caked to it. There was also a strip of cloth tied over the wound, but Orion had his doubts that it was actually helping. A moment later, Burku came trundling back down the staircase, arms laden with towels and bandages and jars of who-knew-what. Behind her came a pawful of woodlanders, some still bleary-eyed, others completely awake. |
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Lieutenant Orion Fulcry ((( ![]() ![]() )))Life + Universe + Everything = 42 Alt: Amos Charp | |
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| Enamel Pardon | Aug 11 2008, 08:53 AM Post #17 |
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Ruler of Specifics
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((Just the arrow and some scratches/bruises. ^^ I'll try to edit this with a proper post on the morrow.)) |
Sergeant Enamel Pardon ![]() Can't keep my eyes from the circling skyTongue-tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit, I...my other char's a mouse: Corporal Simon Flynn
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| Enamel Pardon | Aug 13 2008, 08:50 AM Post #18 |
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Ruler of Specifics
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Burku didn't waste a moment. Within seconds, she had a comfortable blanket laid out, which they laid Enamel on. She placed a pillow under his head, and another (with a towel on) under his wounded leg. Then she began drying his fur and covering him with another blanket. He was still dirty, but his comfort mattered more than mud on her linen. The woodlanders didn't sit around, either. The wives and mothers, with Burku's permission, began bustling about the kitchen to "make that brave hare some healing stew", and the males who hadn't brought staves and other weapons down with them began bumbling about making sure the chairs and tables were straight. And Enamel stirred. His eyes opened, and he stared at the ceiling, simply sorting out where he was. He couldn't quite sort it out, but there was Mr. Fulcry, that nice squirrel, and there was another nice-ish squirrel, and he was warm, and it all felt nice and cozy... "Ah," he mumbled. "I see. 'm home..." He closed his eyes again. "'ope Torsten an' th'others... made it... 'ome..." A hedgehog gripped his staff harder. Behind him, four other youngish, toughish males were grouped. "Corporal Fulcry? We're not fortbeasts, but if there's vermin out there, we'll fight 'em. Your orders?" ~ ~ ~ S.E. had his footpaws propped on the table, and was taking a long, reflective draw from his pipe. His glasses had been laid aside and his belt loosed a notch or nine, and there was a jam stain on his jacket sleeve that he couldn't get out with cider, which he couldn't get out with a napkin because the napkin had had jam on. Dinner was nearly over, and he was feeling that this trip to the Fort would be a good one after all. They seemed well-mannered enough, trained to their duties and yet, when the cake was piled high and the drink in the gullet, they were perfectly normal beasts. Unlike some Long Patrol members he could name, but wouldn't. He had to commend the Commanders for the way things were run. True, he hadn't really done any rounds, or looked at the paperwork (paperwork? Who, honestly, did paperwork? That sort of thing was for scholars and, and... woscalled, those beasts with the numbers, quartermasters. No real soldier needed to ever worry about paperwork) - but he had a feeling, judging from just this little glimpse, that everything would be all right during his stay. |
Sergeant Enamel Pardon ![]() Can't keep my eyes from the circling skyTongue-tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit, I...my other char's a mouse: Corporal Simon Flynn
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| Orion Fulcry | Aug 18 2008, 02:15 AM Post #19 |
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Level One Writer
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Orion looked with surprise at the small cluster of woodlanders, but more because they were looking to him as a leader than because they wanted to take some kind of action. But who was he to take charge? Take care of himself? Sure, easy as pie. Blueberry pie. Take care of himself and watch out for five woodlanders who had little combat experience? A whole different ball of wax, that. His gaze flicked momentarily to the delirious Enamel, and his resolve hardened. Orion wasn't about to let whoever had done this just slink away. He might have been able to do it by himself, but with the weather as it was, things would go a whole lot more smoothly if there were others helping him. Drawing himself up straighter, he addressed the knot of woodlanders. "Right then," he muttered, then louder: "come with me." Wheeling about, he strode purposefully towards the door. "There are only two doors into this place. We need someone guarding each one. "You and you," Orion pointed at two dormice wielding a staff and a club. "One of you go out the kitchen door and guard outside. Well, actually, uh, I suppose you can just keep the door open and watch from the frame. The other will keep guard at the front door. If anybeast approaches, close the door and do not let him in unless he is able to identify himself as a friend. The other two of you will come with me outside. We're..." He paused and glanced around the group. "We're going to attempt to retrace Corporal Enamel's path and find who attacked him." The woodlanders had been nodding eager agreement throughout the outlining of the plan. They were just happy to be doing something useful. At the conclusion, the one dormouse retreated towards the kitchens while the other took up guard at the entrance. Opening the door, Orion peered cautiously out. Horrible weather for tracking of any sort. And so, with a curt nod to the other dormouse left at the front door, the trio disappeared into the falling rain. |
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Lieutenant Orion Fulcry ((( ![]() ![]() )))Life + Universe + Everything = 42 Alt: Amos Charp | |
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| Kani Pesäheilua | Aug 27 2008, 07:19 AM Post #20 |
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Level Two Poster
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Kani abhorred rain. She could get past damp and musty atmospheres, but a full out rain? That just made her ears soggy and obscured vision and generally made it feel like she were slogging. This was only her opinion of rain when outside. When looking out at rain from a warm and cozy or at least dry location, she found it too be an endearing sight for the soul, the patter of rain drops, the thick aromas of wet earth. The rabbit abhorred McSwaffle just a little more than than the mud between her paw digits. She thought him to be a polecat rather than ferret, for those were the only like beasts she'd encountered up North. At least they had the dignity to make an annoying war cry before attacking. This ferret and his gang of soggy salt-addled beasties had come upon her and a few of her fellow guards in a quite unexpected matter. Interrupting a perfectly good debate of what warm flaky treats the creatures back at Black Fort Arch were burying their snouts into, a good dozen vermin had swam through the wet, using the natural noises and gloom to sneak up. A brief struggle, muffled yells, a few well placed wallups...what kind of BAFers were they, to be captured so easily? Kani didn't want to bother with that now. The rope on Kani's paw was chaffing, despite the wet. Her long breathes sputtered past the water dripping off her whiskers. She was taking in the moment. The ramshackled headquarters. The odd biting smell of the pirates. The craggy smirk on that bloody polecat. "Grog tis only good ta be washin' off strains...loik vermin blood," she muttered. A threat, she noticed afterwards. Not a bad one, perhaps, she was out of practice with insults...she'd have a lot of time to practice. She wondered where they had stowed her pickax. |
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Corporal Kani Pesäheilua - Goggled Rabbit of the East Tower Tim: That's no ordinary rabbit. That's the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on! | |
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1:34 AM Nov 28