Post by Quickbow on Nov 16, 2006 9:50:47 GMT -5
OOC: Make sure you explain how you heard him, and no g-moding nor auto-hitting.
**The hare's sandy-brown paws pounded away on the hard cement, only seconds ahead of the small group of wily weasels approaching from behind. His breath was gasped; he had been running for quite a while. The hare had made a blundering mistake, to steal one of their weapons. He could not have resisted, it seemed like a good fit for him, a small throwing knife around the size of his long knife, but the young hare had accidentally snapped a nearby twig, immediately alerting the beasts of his presence. Quickbow regretted the very idea of taking a morning walk in the first place, he should have remembered the dangerous state of the Northern Pass, that you should never travel alone on it. He was luckily armed with his short spear and recently pilfered hunting knife, he had regrettably forgot his long skinning knife back at camp. The hare, with his natural speed, was luckily keeping ahead of the angry group, and he knew he could not turn and fight, for he was out-numbered at least twenty-five to one. The hare began shouting out for help as he came nearer to the Guardians of Mossflower's camp site, on the very edge of the mess hall. He could only hope a beast could hear his fevered calls for assistance.**
**The hare's sandy-brown paws pounded away on the hard cement, only seconds ahead of the small group of wily weasels approaching from behind. His breath was gasped; he had been running for quite a while. The hare had made a blundering mistake, to steal one of their weapons. He could not have resisted, it seemed like a good fit for him, a small throwing knife around the size of his long knife, but the young hare had accidentally snapped a nearby twig, immediately alerting the beasts of his presence. Quickbow regretted the very idea of taking a morning walk in the first place, he should have remembered the dangerous state of the Northern Pass, that you should never travel alone on it. He was luckily armed with his short spear and recently pilfered hunting knife, he had regrettably forgot his long skinning knife back at camp. The hare, with his natural speed, was luckily keeping ahead of the angry group, and he knew he could not turn and fight, for he was out-numbered at least twenty-five to one. The hare began shouting out for help as he came nearer to the Guardians of Mossflower's camp site, on the very edge of the mess hall. He could only hope a beast could hear his fevered calls for assistance.**
