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Post by Rowan Sorriven & Jamie Sareem on Oct 13, 2006 6:28:05 GMT -5
Jamie nods to Quickbow and his wife, and turns to go and sit by them. Humming a cheerful tune, she pulls Rowan along tripping. She releases her vice-like grip on his paw, and sits at the table opposite to Cathy and Quickbow. Rowan sits down on the bench beside Jamie, and glances at the rows of food. Jamie takes a bowl of Spring salad as Rowan takes a plate of woodland trifle. Jamie swallows the bite of spring salad, and asks Quickbow your basic question. " 'Ey Quickbow, are you 'aving a good time at the dance so far?"
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Post by Raiden and Zahi on Oct 13, 2006 10:42:55 GMT -5
Raiden, are you alright?
**Raiden vaguely heard Quickbow's voice, his thoughts were elsewhere, traveling down the corridors of his past.**
Mikal!! On your left, vermin, they're breaking through!!
**A further memory from another time came through.**
Post haste Juantez, get a message to SHC, tell them we can not hold...
**The thing was, raiden never talked to anyone by those names, he couldn't understand what was going on, if they weren't his own memories, who's were they? Slowly, asif in a dream, he comes out of his past, to answer Quickbow's question.**
I will be soon... It's just something that happens sometimes. Too many head wounds, you know?
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Post by Songwind and Brawn Oakbrush. on Oct 13, 2006 13:15:42 GMT -5
**Song continued whirling with her daring dance partner. She enjoyed this, dancing was a fun thing to do. She looked at Brawn and smiled, he realesed her waist and held up his paw as she twirled gracefully. She suddenly noticed Quickbow and someother hare she didn't know. She let go of Brawn's paw and left her partner again. He looked dissapointed. She comunicated with her eyes she was sorry and waltzed over to Quickbow.** I Qickie! Who is that?
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Commander Marie and Will
Ret. Commander
Head Warrior^#black%5Fstar
Meet the Commander: Champion of GOM's Second Sparring Tournament!
Posts: 967
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Post by Commander Marie and Will on Oct 13, 2006 13:52:25 GMT -5
OOC: Introducing Dante Francisco! *announcer voice*
BIC: *An expert flick of the comb, a quick tug to straighten the jacket, a tiny click as he adjusted the cufflinks--Dante Francisco was ready. The young, handsome stoat stood before the full-body mirror in his room, giving his outfit the once over before leaving for the Autumn Ball. His tall, slim form was accented nicely by a trim, fitted navy-blue coat that fell to about knee-length; under this, wore a crisp, snow-white dress shirt with a fancy ruffle in the front. A pair of tight-fitting trousers, the ends of which were hidden beneath the pair of boots he reserved for special occasions, a worn but well-cared for tricorn with a large, blue feather, and a small ponytail formed from the longer fur on the back of his neck completed Dante's stunning outfit.
After testing his most dashing smile and his most courteous bow in the mirror, he nodded politely to himself.* Dante, you never looked better, you old seadog. *With a tip of his hat, he turned on his heel and strode out of his room in the barracks. The mysterious, travel-worn but suspiciously rich stranger who had appeared rather suddenly in the Guardians of Mossflower's ranks had vanished beneath the guise of a courteous, charming young corsair who had turned from his ways and was seeking to somehow amend the wrongs he'd commited as a pirate. Although he had no specific intentions of harming the beasts of the fort, he was using them for his own purpose--to hide from an old enemy; if somebeast happened to be harmed in the process, well... He wouldn't have any significant amount of regret.
Dante emerged from the barracks into the swiftly darkening evening. With a vaguely aloof expression on his features, he walked purposefully across the now almost-deserted courtyard. Although he was in no apparent hurry, his long strides carried him swiftly across the stones and grass of the enclosed area; before long, he was approaching the location of the Autumn Ball. As the chilly fall air ruffled the large feather in his hat, Dante quietly suppressed a shiver. It had been almost a season since he'd come here to the Fort, seeking somewhere to escape Rotfang, a former member of his crew who'd led a rebellion against him. Ever since Dante--known as Sawyer Hellhawk in the pirating world--had been forced to run for his life, he'd been living in constant fear of his mate-turned-enemy finding him and doing...well... He didn't really want to think of what he'd do; he knew all too well, for certain, as he'd done it plenty of times to other helpless beasts himself, but still. Tonight was a night of relaxation and finery. The memories of his past only served to remind him not to let his guard down.
With a slight pause at the door to let a pair of otters pass him, Dante stepped into the warm light of the Dance Hall. Beasts in gay clothing occupied the room, some whirling elegantly on the dance floor, some standing off to the side looking forlorn, other laughing merrily with a friend, others asking young maids to... Wait... A tiny flash of worry sparked in the stoat's eyes at the sight of the wolf, Taundor Whitefang, asking a young mouse to a dance. Dante had had a run-in with the canine when he'd first joined; that was before he'd learned to mask his love of power and wealth and blend into the humble and amiable background of the Guardians. His soft brown brow wrinkled slightly, but he quickly wiped the expression from his face. Just avoid him. He's probably forgotten all about it; and if he hasn't, he wouldn't dare say anything in the present company... Besides, he looks occupied.
Reassuring himself with like words, Dante glanced around once more for a familiar face. Seeing none, at first, he wandered over to a nearby wall and stood there, doing his best impression of a open and friendly beast who just wants to have somebeast to chat to--and he was rather good at it, too.*
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Post by Quickbow on Oct 13, 2006 16:23:23 GMT -5
**Quickbow heard Jamie ask him a question, and answered vaguely.**
Yes, it is a good evening, how about you?
**Quickbow nodded in understanding at Raiden's direction, trudging his paw awkwardly. He was not always comfortable around some of the veterans, him being only a young hare, only recently joining the ranks of the Guardians of Mossflower. Quickbow was still quite a novice on some matters, his sword-play not nearly as good as some of the veterans. Upon hearing Songwind's inquiring voice, he answered quickly.**
Why don't you ask her yourself?
**He said, with a sly wink in Cathy's direction at the food tables. The hare left Songwind suddenly, spying a newcomer to the party, one Quickbow had never seen him before. He might be newer than me. Hmm, he is a stoat, I wonder if he can really be trusted. Quickbow cautiously approached the young-looking stoat, his paw unconciously straying to his belt and concealed dagger. Realizing the rude gesture this must appear, he quickbow pulled his hand away, holding it out for the creature to shake.**
Hello, my name's Quickbow Steelpaw. What's yours, I don't think I've seen you before.
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Post by Rowan Sorriven & Jamie Sareem on Oct 13, 2006 16:56:56 GMT -5
"Pretty good." Jamie watched Quickbow walk off to the stoat Dante Francisco, and shrugged. Taking a small sip from a beaker of Elderberry wine, she purses her lips in thought. Turning to Rowan, she swallows a bite of spring salad. "Ready to dance again Rowan?" She smiles broadly at him, and watches for his reply. Rowan, currently finishing off his plate, turns, spilling some of his drink. Sputtering food and ale together, he coughs, embarrassed. "Err, sorry about that Jamie. Why not. I could use the practice." He winked at her, took another drink of the ale, and stood up.
Taking her paw, he helps Jamie to her paws. Putting his arm around her waist, they walk back onto the dance floor, passing the couple they had collided with earlier in the night. The floor shines brightly, freshly polished. Jamie looks at her reflection on the polished floor, before turning back to Rowan.
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Post by Songwind and Brawn Oakbrush. on Oct 13, 2006 19:41:23 GMT -5
**Song nods wordlessly as Quickbow leaves. She glides over and her silver sash scrapes the ground. She smiles and curtsies to the female hare.** hello. I'm Songwind, you must be......?
**Song stands up and looks expectantly at the hare.**
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Post by Rowan Sorriven & Jamie Sareem on Oct 13, 2006 19:44:51 GMT -5
Rowan and Jamie take a deep breath, set their paws in a dancing formation, and then set off twirling and spinning, all the while keeping their balance and passing waltzing couples. The surrounding hall passes by Rowan's vision in a blur. He laughs slightly, keeping the urge to hurl his lunch in the back of his mind.
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Post by Tumbletail Spikedog on Oct 14, 2006 15:14:25 GMT -5
*Rufe Brush stood just outside the dancing hall, his back pressed against the wall right behind him. The squirrel wasn't used to any real romantic outings; he was a rather quiet squirrel, keeping to himself as much as possible. He lived a rather rugged and rough life, his main interest lying within training with the Guardians of Mossflower. When he was younger he didn't have any time for childish crushes, either. But he decided that he would show up, just for kicks, and who knew. Maybe he would figure out that he was good at dancing.* Ahh, why me? *The red squirrel stepped away from the wall, giving his appearance a quick run-down. He had retired his former brown tunic and green gloves, and was now, instead, wearing a white shirt and black coat that slightly resembled a tuxedo. Rufe was wearing beige-colored pants that his mother had probably sewn for him many years ago for when he was finally this age. Twisting his head and body around slightly, the red squirrel looked at his tail, an hour of combing it finally paying off and making the fur look glossier. Rufe sighed and buried his paws in his pockets; he really didn't want to do this. But he would. Stumbling down a flight of stairs was a tall, slender female squirrel. She had a golden coronet perched on her head, glinting in the light from a chandelier just above her. Her ear tufts were neatly groomed. A flowing off-white dress almost reached her footpaws, which were protected by a pair of sandals. Her towering brush of a tail had a golden tailring that matched her coronet nearly perfectly. Winry Spindle wasn't exactly accustomed to the idea of a dance, although she was better off that her dance partner, Rufe. As the semi-pretty squirrel descended the winding stairs, now trying to regain her composure, she inwardly smiled. Rufe Brush was an old childhood friend of hers. While she didn't doubt that this would be fun, she couldn't help but wonder how good Rufe was at dancing. Herself? She was so-so. Not the best, but not the worst, either. Winry finally reached the bottom of the stairs, then paused and looked around. She thought she could see Rufe, far down at the end of the hall. Winry did smile, this time, and ran forward to meet him.* Hey! *She waved her paw as she caught up to him. Rufe turned, his paws still deep down in his pockets, as he caught sight of Winry. Yes, he remembered Winry alright. She was always talkative when they were just Dibbuns. Rufe blinked once, twice, thrice at her outfit. Winry was never one to get really dressed up. Who knew? The female red squirrel bounded the last few steps and the male one linked arms with her.* Where did you come from? *Rufe asked her.* Well, I was in the area. You know me. I was talkin' to some old mouse; he told me that there was a squirrel named Rufe Brush here that needed a dance partner 'cos he's too ugly on his own. *Rufe chuckled.* Haha, we'll see about that, missie. *Then the two of them walked into the dance hall.* OOC: 1. Don't fret, mateys, Tumble will make an appearance soon. Rather grudgingly. 2. Winry's just anotha' minor charry, but if all turns out well, I might actually have her join GoM. 3. If I said something weird about the outfits, I apologize. Kinda tired when I wrote this. (I just got back from camp, don't blame meh! *slaps)
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Post by Rowan Sorriven & Jamie Sareem on Oct 14, 2006 15:58:00 GMT -5
Jamie stumbles and collides once again with a waltzing couple. Rowan and her go down, hitting the freshly polished floor. Rowans long sword slides from it's sheath, falling out onto the wood floor with a clang. Sweat trickles down his forehead as the other couple falls on the pair. The breath whooshes out of his lungs, causing him to squirm in pain. The mole couple finally realize they are sitting on two beasts, and take their slow time to extract their bodies. Rowan sits up, grimacing in pain as he rubs his ribs. Taking in a deep breath, the pain shoots through his body. Finally falling back on short, ragged gasps he stands up and helps Jamie up. She looks at him, watching his discomfort. Rowan picks his wire bound long sword up and sheaths it before another fresh wave of pain strikes him.
Jamie puts her arm around him and helps him to a table. He sits down on the bench, his paws folded in front of his ribs. She rummages through a pack slung over her shoulder and pulls a med kit out of the cloth bag. Sitting at his side, she makes a poultice consisting of dock leaves and an ivy leaf compress. Wrapping it around her husbands injury, she sighs. "Seems you a few bruised ribs now. Are you alright?" She hugs him as he grimaces in pain. "Yeah, I'm alright Jamie. It's my luck that I go to a dance to have fun and end of with a few broken ribs." He chuckles lightly. She smiles. "You always have had a sense of humor Rowan."
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Post by Taundor Whitefang on Oct 14, 2006 20:32:17 GMT -5
Taundor grinned slightly at Mary's words. "I'm not too much of a dancer myself. I'll go ahead and apologize now. Sorry if I step one your paws, Mary." He glanced up at the new arrival and frowned. Not the stupid stoat. Dante Francisco, what are you doing here? Taundor pushed the thoughts about the stoat to the back of his head. He needed to relax a little.
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Post by Mary Narai on Oct 14, 2006 21:28:19 GMT -5
* Mary shrugged, then said.* Well, then I apologize beforehand about anything that I may do. So, shall we dance?* SHe refrained from saying dance in a grudging manner, but to tell the truth... * OOC: Taundor, I have reached a small problem. Okay, you know how when your dancing the girl usually has herhand on the guy's shoulder? Well... wolves are rather tall compated to mice, so how exactly is Mary supposed to do that?
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Post by Taundor Whitefang on Oct 14, 2006 21:33:12 GMT -5
Taundor took Mary's paw, and walked to the dance floor. He awkwardly shuffled his paws, and twiddled his paws embarrassingly. "Er... how well do you dance? I have no idea how to, and I need to learn."
OOC: ...ummm... How 'bout this? You step on my footpaws, and I stoop? Hmmm... dunno if that'll work.
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Post by Mary Narai on Oct 14, 2006 21:38:02 GMT -5
* Mary smiled.* Here, I'll show you.* She directs one of Taundor's paws to her waist, warning him.* And be careful with those claws of yours.* She holds the other on in her paw and puts her paw on Taundor's shoulder.* REady?
OOC: Okay, we'll just pretend we're both the same height, okay? *puts a paw in front of her mouth.* Nobody needs to know the height difference.
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Post by Shadow-Risk & Rosemary on Oct 14, 2006 22:23:14 GMT -5
**A heavy sigh escapes the lips of Shadow-Risk Nightshade. It is late night by now, and the cold autumn breezes press past the young, anxious vixen. Biting her lip nervouly, Risk inhaled deeply, hoping proper strength would return to her limbs.
Two and a half months had been spent preparing for this night. And two and a half months had been spent stabbing herself with needles as she clumsily tried to finish her dress. In the end, it was a very pretty dress, albiet it had its flaws. With rich shades of crimson for skirts and bodice; black lace, accents, and underlining; and a plaid (resembling of a kilt) pattern here and there. The dark-furred vixen wore black gloves that went up to her mid-forearm, to cover the many bandages that hid tender wounds from the merciless needles.
Another chilling autumn gust buffetted her form in the night, stirring her abruptly. The lively music hummed and buzzed in her ears as she slowly and methodically moved foward. She was upset that she was so late; however, the kind Rogue had wanted to make her dress and ribbon (a silky black one) look perfect. This night was so important to her, and yet she found it hard to breath as her pace steadily progressed. Stumbling past the doors, the vixen staggered into the room and searched desperately for a certain fox, her heart now thumping violently against her breast.**
**Behind our timid, beloved Risk strode a much more confident fox. Ragfur Valianthear, the Brave, as he called himself, sauntered foward from the dark, awed by the young vixen's beauty. The new comer was garbed in a dressed-up trench coat of navy blue, silky blouse with frills, black trousers, and impressive boots and stockings. His firy orange fur was combed and groomed neatly, and every inch of him was scrubbed clean.
Confident and pleased with his dashing looks, Ragfur strode after Risk, facinated by her beauty, yet not even knowing her name. Passing through the same doors into the candlelight of the music-filled hall, he spotted the vixen and stepped forward to greet her. However, as he did thus, she moved from his reach, her back still turned to him.**
**Unaware of her admirer's presence, Risk moved onward through the merry crowd, in search of her lover. With a slight gasp and delighted smile, she spied Commander Laylark. With quick steps, she moved toward the handsome young fox, though he had not been alerted to her presence as of yet.**
**Determined to find the mysterious fox, Ragfur pursued her blindly through the crowd. Moving swiftly, he stumbled into a small clearing and clearly saw Shadow-Risk ahead of him. Nearly trotting now, he sought to catch up to her.**
**Anxiety pushed her foward and held her back at the same time. Risk couldn't tell whether she was excited or frightened at greeting Laylark. In all reality, she was both excited and frightened. Either way, she was very near to him now, within hearing, and moving steadily. She was about to call him by name; however, just as she had decided to do thus, a paw tapped her tenderly, yet firmly on her shoulder.**
**The vixen he now touched spun around elegantly, her dress skirts flowing beautifully. If Ragfur had thought she was beautiful from behind, he was even more astonished to see her face-to-face. Smiling in all his charm, he bowed politely and introduced himself.** Goodevenin', lass. I'm Ragfur Valiantheart, the Brave. I'm so sorry for disturbin' ye; however, I was so enrapture by yer beauty, that I couldn't help but ask of ye your name.
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