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| Midwinter Celebration; Christmas & New Years rolled into one! | |
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| Topic Started: Dec 21 2008, 06:04 PM (983 Views) | |
| Jelal Waveskimmer | Feb 5 2009, 10:49 AM Post #51 |
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Level Two Poster
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Get to the bell, get to the bell! Jelal was very much concerned with getting to the bell. It was a little difficult to run back and forth when he was carrying a mighty big metal shield on his arm, but he could manage. Enamel in the tower had to be checked on, did he not? Jelal remembered the skittish hare, still rather smarting from that almost-murder incident back in the woods. But right now wasn't the time to think about that. He had to go and check up on him, make sure he wasn't about to chuck himself out the tower or something crazy like that. "Sergeant Pardon?" he called up the belltower as he charged up the stone steps. What exactly was he supposed to say, anyway? "Commander Sungold wants a, er... status update! Are ya' hale an' hearty up 'ere?" |
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| Simon Flynn | Feb 6 2009, 08:02 AM Post #52 |
Level Two Poster
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Simon shrunk back from Orion's gaze. "'Never' is still a good idea, though," he mumbled, so quietly that it was more a reassurance to his self-esteem than an apology. He'd never stopped to think about it 'til now, but maybe there was more to the squirrel than occasional bouts of insomnia. Simon knew what it was like to have a loved on hurt by vermin - the scars on Erys's face proved this all too well. But sometimes wounds went deeper than scars - so deep that scars didn't matter anymore, on account of there not being anything alive for the scars to be on. He wondered now if maybe Orion was one such beast who had been changed by vermin like this. It was the only explanation he could think of for the fierceness. He was right, though. Summer had been a terrible season for the Flynn family for that very reason. And now here he was, trying to... trying to what? Defend his family? Regain his (hah!) honour? Simon didn't rightly know. He didn't particularly want to be here, fighting. It was just... something that needed to be done, regardless. "Anything like this ever happen before?" he asked, sidling slightly closer after his previous sidle slightly away. "No, well, I'm sure it has - but were you there? What was it like?" ~ ~ ~ Enamel had watched... and watched... and watched... but he hadn't seen anything. Not to say there had been nothing to see - there probably had been lots of little things, if he had been paying attention. But all that ran through his caffeine-addled brain was: dead, Oaktail's dead, Oaktail's dead, Oaktail's... Death tasted a lot like cheese. He turned, startled by Jeshal's voice. Was the bell still ringing? Enamel couldn't tell; his ears still rang with dense white noise and blood rushing all about his head, and he had somehow drowned out the tolling and forgotten all about it. "I'm fine," he said quietly. Perhaps too quietly. "I'm fine." There, that was a little louder. He turned away again, back to staring at the darkened countryside. Where he couldn't see Oaktail's body still slumped against the wall. "Is it safe yet?" he asked. "She needs t'be taken down t'th'infirmary... Mrs. Duran an' Miz Quillslip an' Miz Silverose... c'n fix her... Fix Oaktail..." The caffeine had begun to lose its affect on him. He wasn't sure he liked that at all. Edited by Simon Flynn, Feb 7 2009, 08:45 AM.
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| Simon Flynn"Yes, that happened once."...my other char's a hare: Enamel Pardon | |
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| Orion Fulcry | Feb 12 2009, 10:33 PM Post #53 |
Level One Writer
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"Anything like this ever happen before? No, well, I'm sure it has - but were you there? What was it like?" Orion began to again glance sidelong at Simon, noticed the mouse was closer than before, and glanced sideshort at him, instead. "Never been a part of anything like this. Always kept to myself." The standing around combined with the cold was beginning to get to Orion. Freezing air seeped its way through his cloak, nuzzling comfortably into his fur. Blasted winter. Shivering, the squirrel tried to wrap his cloak tighter about himself, but it didn't work very well while holding his bow at the same time. Frost was beginning to tinge his whiskers, and he twitched them fiercely. It didn't help. "Most times," he said, blinking against the light breeze. "It's just me against them." In much warmer weather. Orion frowned most disagreeably and absently grabbed the two rings hanging from the chain around his neck. They were freezing to the touch, but he paid that particular inconvenience no mind. What he said next, he spoke before realizing it. "Ever since then..." He trailed off awkwardly when he realized what he was beginning to say. |
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Lieutenant Orion Fulcry (((  )))Life + Universe + Everything = 42 Alt: Amos Charp | |
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| Dale Stormbreak | Feb 20 2009, 06:04 PM Post #54 |
 
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The ocean's waters rose and fell, large swells deceptively calm that concealed raw power beneath. The clouds that broke here and there over Black Arch Fort were a solid mass over the ocean. Out at sea, a ship rowed nearer to shore using long, wooden oars. Its sails were furled. A drum beat out a loud, thudding beat. Once it had come close enough to see the fort positioned on top of the cliff, the rowing stopped. The cloud cover, combined with the ship's lack of lights, made it near impossible to see. On deck, dark shapes moved about, and an anchor dropped into the frigid waters. A door leading into the underbelly of the ship opened and a figure stepped out, stopped, and turned around. "Rest while ye can, me hearties. I need ye t'be in tiptop shape fer rowin' tomorrer. Best row yer hardest if'n ye want t' eat." A cruel chuckle, and the figure slammed the door shut, sauntering off. Belowdecks, on the level with the oars, row upon row of chained woodlanders sat slumped over their oars. The day had been an especially tiring one, rowing all day with almost no reprieve. Now that they had stopped, most of the oarslaves had drifted off to sleep. In the last row was an otter. The darkness reduced him to a silhouette, none of his features distinguishable. He stared at the view afforded him by the gap around the oar. There wasn't much to see - just water - but it was a welcome change from the metal and wood all around him. His oarmate, a young mouse, was one of those already asleep. A soft whimper escaped the rodent, and he shivered and pulled a bit closer to the otter. The otter raised a paw and rubbed the mouse's head affectionately. Within moments, his arm was too tired to keep up, and he dropped it with a sigh. "Dale, matey, yor gettin' too old for this." Leaning down, he inspected the chains attached to his footpaws. One of the links looked about to snap. A speculative observer might mention it looked filed down. That observer would be entirely correct. Reaching under his bench, Dale grabbed a jagged piece of metal. Looking briefly around him, he set to work, tired arms falling into a slow but steady sawing motion. This was something he had been working on ever since being captured by corsairs several weeks back. Unfortunately, a full day of rowing usually left him with hardly any energy to devote to the task. But he was determined! Tonight would be the night. They were near enough to the shore, or so he had overheard - among other things. And now it was imperative that he make it to Black Arch Fort as soon as possible. The minutes passed and stretched out. A heavy silence settled as the slaves fell into deep slumber. And still Dale worked. Finally, the weakened link snapped in two with a quiet click. As quietly as possible, Dale unthreaded his footpaws from the chain and stepped around his previous oarmate. The cuffs were still attached, but there wasn't much the otter could do about those; picking locks had never been a specialty of his. Stopping in the aisle, Dale looked sadly at the sleeping mouse. "Sorry, matey," he said in a low voice. "Doubt ye could make th' swim. But I'll come back an' save ye. I promise." Padding silently towards the door, he cracked it open and peered out at the dark deck. Freezing air squeezed through the opening, playing with his fur. Shivering despite himself, Dale saw no one and slipped out, shutting the door behind him. Now the wind hit him full blast, and he was more aware than ever that he was wearing nothing but breeches. Shivering a bit more heavily, he looked off to the starboard side of the ship. There, outlined against the lighter sky behind it, sat Black Arch Fort, its towers clawing at the heavens. Finally, he would find out if Duran yet lived. "Oy! What're yew doin' out 'ere, matey? This innit yor shift! An' in yor skivvies, too!" The voice came from his right - his blind side. Turning to stare balefully at the speaker with his single eye, Dale took in the bundled up form of a fox. Grinning to reveal a mouth full of sharp, pointy teeth, the otter stepped forward. "Aye, yor right, mate. Tis not my shift." The fox's eyes widened as he realized this apparition advancing towards him was no shipmate of his. "Yor tha' otter we caught!" The sound of leather on steel rang out as the corsair drew his sword. "Belay! Stay righ' there!" Then, in a voice loud enough to roust the ship. "Slaves escapin'! Slaves escapin'!" "Belay yorself!" Dale lunged at the fox, knocking aside the sword and sending a swift uppercut to the corsair's jaw. It silenced the fox, but the damage was already done. The ship began to swarm with activity as rudely-awoken pirates stumbled onto the deck. It took two of their number being toppled before they realized Dale wasn't one of their own. With a hue and a cry, weapons descended towards Dale. Twisting and tumbling, he did his best to avoid the blades. Still, despite the otter's best efforts, a cutlass bit into his side. Pain flared through it, and he cried out. Headbutting a weasel in the face, Dale leapt over the railing and into the waters below. It was like hitting a wall of ice. His breath was ripped viciously from his lungs. So cold was the water that his body refused to respond for several seconds. Finally, he thrashed to the surface, coughing and spluttering. Without waiting to see what was happening on the ship, the otter struck out for shore. Already, his arms began to give out. ~ ~ ~ On the ship, the corsairs gathered by the railing, staring apprehensively at the ocean. "Should we sail after 'im?" someone suggested. "We don't want 'im warnin' th' fort." "Let him go." A powerfully-built searat watched the otter escape into the darkness. "Why, Cap'n?" "It's a long way t' shore, an' th' water's much too cold. Even for 'n otter. 'E won't make it." ~ ~ ~ Dale lost all track of time. His entire world became a struggle to just stay afloat. His fur had long since failed to keep him warm; his entire body was numb. Even the injury in his side no longer hurt. The only thing he could feel was the burning of his lungs as they demanded oxygen. Frigid water splashed over his head, but he hardly noticed. All he could do was keep swimming. Somehow, he managed. Very vague in his memory is that swim. He hardly noticed when he entered some kind of underground chamber. After bumping against a ladder for a full minute, his fogged brain finally realized what it was for, and he climbed up it with painstaking slowness. Reaching the top, the otter blinked confusedly. Where was he? A heavy shiver began to work its way through his body, and his teeth began to chatter. Too tired to even hug his arms around himself, Dale staggered along the pathway he was on. A lip caught his shuffling footpaws, and he tripped forward, landing heavily on the ground. It took him several seconds to realize he was now lying on stairs. He let out a tired groan. Slowly - ever so slowly - he pulled himself back to his footpaws. Slumping against the wall for support, Dale began stumbling up the stairs. By the time he reached the top, shivers ravaged his body, nearly making him incapable of walking. Thankfully, the air was warmer up here. The stairs gave way to a smooth tunnel. His footpaw didn't notice and still tried to step up. Tumbling, he landed in a heap on the floor. His strength finally gave out completely, and Dale felt his consciousness drifting away. So did Dale Stormbreak come to Black Arch Fort. ((Whoops, wrote the entrance to the Underground Harbor as being in the wrong place. Fixed it!)) Edited by Dale Stormbreak, Feb 24 2009, 02:11 AM.
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 _____Dale Stormbreak
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| Orion Fulcry | Feb 24 2009, 02:39 AM Post #55 |
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Level One Writer
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"Why don't you two take a break?" A hedgehog wearing the trappings of a North Tower Captain lay hefty paws on Simon's and Orion's shoulders. "There's enough up here to keep watch, and it don't look like anything is gonna happen, anyhow. Go inside and get something to eat." Orion started to bow, caught himself, and turned it into a salute. "Yes sir." He was about to step away, but the hedgehog gave one last order. "An' stop by main armory on the way back. See if'n you can't pick up some extra spears." Orion nodded and made his way down from the North Tower, Simon in tow. Emerging on the ground with its hard-packed snow, the two trudged towards the Keep. There were others who apparently had received similar orders, as evidenced by the clumps of soldiers sitting solemnly at the nearly-empty tables in the dining hall. Not terribly hungry, Orion simply grabbed a cheese-filled biscuit. "Let's get the spears first," he said to Simon. The mouse looked as though he was about to protest, but a stern look from Orion had him following, a filled plate in his paws. It was quiet outside the dining hall, their pawsteps echoing forlornly off the stonework. It didn't take long at all to reach the stairway that led down into the underground caverns. Their way lit by flickering torches, the two North Tower guards descended down. As they passed by the tunnel that led towards the harbor, Orion froze. At the end, where the tunnel got serious and turned into stairs, a limp form lay prone. What in the blazes? Without saying anything to Simon, the squirrel dashed down the passageway, cloak billowing behind him. As he neared the creature, it became clear it was an otter. Crouching beside the unconscious form, Orion felt for a pulse. Its weak fluttering was hard to confirm, but a sudden shudder from the otter let Orion know there was still some life left. He bit his lip thoughtfully, glancing from the wet otter to the stairs that led down into darkness. What of there was some kind of invasion coming from below? "Can you carry this otter on your own?" he asked Simon. ((Apologies for the autoing, Nam! Our two characters didn't really seem to be getting much action over in the North Tower. Hope you don't mind, but I have no problem changing it if you'd like. ^_^)) |
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Lieutenant Orion Fulcry ((( )))Life + Universe + Everything = 42 Alt: Amos Charp | |
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| Simon Flynn | Feb 25 2009, 02:39 AM Post #56 |
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Level Two Poster
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((Perfectly fine! ^^)) "Most times, it's just me against them. Ever since then..." Simon was quiet for a while. He had been about to say, "Well, now you've got friends" when they were relieved. "Relieved", Simon realised, now meant more than just being told to take a break. He sighed, not quite happily, but not at all put-out. He wasn't sure he wanted to fight just yet... He stocked up on as much food as he could carry while they were in the dining hall. The cooks and helpers had all ready begun scooting the good stuff into packages for the guards on duty, but he managed to scavenge a bit of salad and a variety of dessert pastries, which he refused to leave behind when they went to get the spears. He'd just try to eat quickly and hope the trip to fetch them wasn't very long... When Orion started legging it off down the tunnel without a word, Simon wondered if perhaps his silence had gone a bit too far - had he somehow offended the squirrel by not saying what he'd meant to...? (Simon was a very silly mouse, it must be remembered.) He felt guilty for being glad that the squirrel's spurt of speed was for another reason entirely. "Can you carry this otter on your own?" Simon stared at Orion. The otter was very nearly four times his size - nevermind weight! "No," he said. "But I can go fetch some infirmary staff...?" He eyed the otter worriedly. The poor creature looked starved to death. The mouse looked sadly at his plate of sweets, and then put it on the ground beside Dale, in case the otter was alive enough to eat. "Shall I?" he asked Orion, his now-empty paws fretting. |
| Simon Flynn"Yes, that happened once."...my other char's a hare: Enamel Pardon | |
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| Orion Fulcry | Feb 26 2009, 11:05 PM Post #57 |
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Level One Writer
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Orion grabbed a torch from one of the nearby wall sconces. Pulling out a dagger, he nodded at Simon. "Yes, do that. I'm going to check the caverns. Make sure nobeast else is down there." He looked at the otter again. "And make sure they hurry. His fur is practically frozen." Turning, he started down the staircase, keeping his torch high and out of his peripheral so as to interfere as little as possible with his vision. Going cautiously, he stepped as lightly as possible, listening for voices, footfalls - anything. |
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Lieutenant Orion Fulcry ((( )))Life + Universe + Everything = 42 Alt: Amos Charp | |
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| Simon Flynn | Mar 11 2009, 08:28 AM Post #58 |
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Level Two Poster
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Simon scurried the fastest he'd ever scurried in his life. It was, he would later realise with some shame, even faster than when he'd scurried to his wounded wife. But back then, he hadn't known what to expect - now he knew what had happened, knew the urgency of the situation, and ran down the entirely wrong corridor. This... wasn't the infirmary! This was a kitchen! It would have to do. "Oh, help, help! There's an otter collapsed in the tunnel to the docks! He's all frozen and almost might be dead!" One of the senior cooks took charge. The old hedgehog shouted orders and waved his paws wildly at underlings, sorting them into a group. "Finster, Torry, load that tea tray with clean towels! Barbs, Windle, you two h'otters get down to your fellow and if he's not too bad, try to take him up to the infirmary - gentle now. Claris, fetch the infirmary staff! We're not sure yet if we can move him at all. Master Flynn, kindly stop dancing like a wounded polecat and lead the way!" Simon squeaked out a salute and dashed off again, trying to retrace his steps to the dank corridor where the otter had been found, half the kitchen crew in his wake, shouting directions at him as he attempted to take several wrong turns on the way to the underground path. "He's just up ahead here!" he said, breathless, and paused to let the burly serving staff - beasts used to hefting giant cakes and heaping bowls - investigate the otter. About the same time they reached him, some beasts from the infirmary had arrived with their satchels and bandages, his wife Erys amongst them. Simon collapsed against the wall, completely overwhelmed by the fantastic response and his role in getting it all together. Had he... had he actually just done something useful? "You did good," Erys said in passing, patting his paw as she hurried around to offer her advice on the state of the otter's tail. "Oh," Simon said to nobeast in particular. "Good. I did... good." He wondered where Orion had gone. |
| Simon Flynn"Yes, that happened once."...my other char's a hare: Enamel Pardon | |
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| Orion Fulcry | Mar 24 2009, 01:21 AM Post #59 |
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Level One Writer
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At that moment, Orion was wishing he had a nice pair of mittens. His constant movement down towards the harbor kept his blood flowing, but that did little to warm his paws. His dagger hilt seemed to seep the warmth of his paw, and yet the wrapping remained as cool as ever. Muttering under his breath, Orion stumbled on a crack and nearly went tumbling head over tail down the stairs. He managed to catch himself, but the torch went skittering from his grasp. The light bounced several times and went out. Darkness rushed eagerly into the void. Orion froze. This wasn't good. He glanced behind him at the darkness that would lead back upstairs to warmth and to light. Part of him said to turn around. At least to get a new torch. But he was almost at the bottom, and somebeast needed to investigate below. Somebeast needed to figure out where that otter had come from. Make sure there wasn't some sort of invasion being mounted. There might not be time to get a new torch. Taking a deep breath, the red squirrel set his paw firmly against the wall, shivering at its coolness. First one cautious step. Then another. And another. Soon, he was slowly wending his way downwards in much the same manner the otter had stumbled upwards. |
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Lieutenant Orion Fulcry ((( )))Life + Universe + Everything = 42 Alt: Amos Charp | |
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| Dale Stormbreak | Apr 12 2009, 10:45 PM Post #60 |
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After a cursory inspection, Dale was declared safe to move. Under the directions of the infirmary staff, Barbs and Windle lifted the prone otter onto a stretcher and began padding back up the passageway towards the fort. Now that the excitement was mostly over, the hedgehog who had taken charge of the mad dash down ushered his kitchen staff back towards the kitchens. "Food for our warriors won't cook itself, you know." A healer squirrel grabbed Simon's paw, pulling him after the stretcher. "You should come with us, Simon. Maybe you can tell us what happened." At their brisk pace, it didn't take the group bound for the infirmary long to reach their destination. Bustling through the door, the two otters stopped at an indicated bed. "Gently now. Get him onto the bed gently." Barbs and Windle did as told, slowly lifting their charge off the stretcher and onto the clean sheets. "Thank you, you two." Barbs nodded. "Not a problem at all, but we should be getting back to the kitchens. Don't want them to be understaffed." Two polite bows, and they were gone, leaving the infirmary staff and Simon to their duties. |
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_____Dale Stormbreak
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3:42 AM Nov 29
