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Post by Crystal M. V. Rosepaw on Apr 1, 2009 16:11:18 GMT -5
It had been almost nightfall when the message came.
The vixen had been in a light doze – the first sleep in a few days – on the battlements, worn down from her insane shifts. She had simply collapsed while looking out over the woods, and if anyone and had her there, they just let the poor commander sleep. Suddenly, a sense came foggily into the realm of her dreams, foreboding flowing after it like a cloak. She got up, not remembering or caring why she was asleep here, and looked around for the source of disturbance. She found a few of her Guardians and a wolf cub come running into the gate, and she dashed down to meet them, previous weariness forgotten.
Later, she found of her messenger’s name, Toby. He’d run all the way from the Western Settlement with the aid of the Guardians to deliver a message to Shard and herself. However, the story Toby told her made her heart pound just a quickly as his must be now. Somebody had killed an innocent to make sure this notice was found. By work of poison, the creature had been slain for no reason other than to be sure this message was delivered.
She scanned the paper, grinding her molars between mashing her canines. Without really thinking about it, her paw snaked down to the hilt of her sword, curling around the pommel, claws flexing. The person whom had written this dared to hint that she or Shard might be the next ones to die. She could handle threats. But actual murder was outrageous. She looked back up at the wolf cub, her emerald eyes gleaming with rage. She handed the note back to Toby, and then placed a paw on his head. “Have somebody get you something to drink, then take the message to Shard, okay? He’s around her somewhere. Tell him I’m leaving soon and that I might have already.
“As for you, the rest of you, tell all the Guardians what has happened. Tell them I and Shard are meeting with him under truce at noon tomorrow. You may all attend, and any other Guardian, but no civilians, and no hostility. If one of you comes threateningly and cause him to run before we can talk to him, you’re talking to me about it.” She waited for a few murmurs of agreement before turning away, a dark scowl on her face. She called back, “And take Toby back tomorrow!”
After gathering only a few things, she left the fortress.
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She had made it into the settlement extremely late that night. She stalked through the shadows of buildings. The place was quieter than she would have liked. All houses, every single one, had the curtains shut tightly, any light shined through more than a pawful of them. The tavern was not as loud and crowed as she had ever remembered it. Sure, there were thrill seekers that had been pulled in by the story, and drunks that just didn’t care anymore. It was the first place she went. She opened the doors loudly, a childish part of her just seeking the reaction it got. Everyone instantly went quiet, looking at whoever it was. Once they realized it wasn’t a shady figure, relief washed over every single face. She strode up to the bar, hearing snatches of new conversations that were whispered, now mostly about her or Shard or the Guardians.
A barmaid, a mouse she’d met a long time ago, clutched her arm tightly, making the snow-hued vixen jerk a bit. The entire place held the spooky feeling of a haunted house. The vixen relaxed and held the mouse close as she babbled out story. How they’d left her to lock up after the last few people left. How they had cleaned up the body for a burial. The vixen consoled her to the best of her ability, and managed to get a few meaningful sentences stated. The vixen promised the poor, frightened mouse that it would be okay. The barmaid brewed up a cup of coffee, which the tavern imported from over seas, for the War Commander. With thanks for it, the vixen stole away into the night-time darkness again to think about all this information.
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Morning. An hour before the time to meet this person at the docks. Still awake, although slightly tired physically, the vixen stood on the beach. Her white fur shined in the early sunlight. She’d brushed out the tangles and coaxed out dust for about an hour, and it was now spotless. One of the few things she had brought was a comb. She’d learned something. If you wanted to play hardball, you had to show you were in the same league. She’d learned the art of replacing flaws with attributes and highlighting flaws that made her look better. Letting her fur look completely sleek and perfectly kept was a way of saying that the Guardians were well taken care of. She’d replaced her blue dress with a red one, and her boots for sandals. She hated, absolutely loathed, dressing up, but she did it now. The red, silky material looked flashy against the pure white of her fur, and showing extremely high contrast with her shocking green orbs. The top of the dress was red and black in a corset like fashion, and the bottom flared out just a bit in an elegant way, and fell to her ankles. Her normal full length black cloak had been replaced as well. A one that fell to the small of her back was in its place, a delicate hood upon it. It was made of a shiny black material.
However, even if she had discarded her Kama, she would not leave her broadsword behind. She quickly used a bandage and a tiny sewing kit she kept with her to make slots for the scabbard, and using three more to reinforce it. The ruby pommel was dusted so it shined as well.
She wandered up the beach now, dressed in reds and blacks, the wind sweeping her hair out towards the ocean where it fell in a curtain. She’d made sure she looked the part of the dashing female hero; dressing like a queen but hinting at a feral side by not leaving her blade. Merely a show of strength, no; she never went anywhere without it. She’s had the mouse from the bar keep her other things safe.
War Commander Crystal M. V. Rosepaw walked up the sand, still having a good amount of time to spare. And so she waited for a murderer.
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Shard Prime
War Commander
Head Ranger
I'd put something clever here, but you wouldn't get it.
Posts: 208
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Post by Shard Prime on Apr 1, 2009 19:23:24 GMT -5
Shard Prime, Head Ranger, Commander of the Infantry, War Commander... It still seemed a bit much for the squirrel. Much of his free time (which was much less now since he had more duties to carry out) was spent pondering just that: why him? <i>I'm no great leader,</i> he kept telling himself. His footpaws dangled from a stone battlement of the wall that enveloped the Guardians' fortress, under the blanket of darkness above. He was alone with his thoughts, for the moment, and always appreciated the sounds of nature and peace, even while mentally arguing with himself. Shard's peace was not long lived, however; a Guardian with a young, weary wolf whom Shard did not recognize in tow. The squirrel spun neatly around and dropped into a walk toward them. Shard could tell they had urgent news by the looks on their faces, and the way they moved. Shard took the message from the young wolf's outstretched hand. He didn't know whether they said anything or not. It didn't matter. Shard's face went from a neutral expression, to a frown, and finally a scowl, as he read. Seeing the War Commander (this one, at least) angry wasn't a common occurrence. A quick word or two with them told him what he already knew: that Crystal was gone already. He patted the wolf's shoulder. "You've done well, lad; thank you. Now, go get some rest."
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Shard then went into the fort, and straight into his living quarters. He shouldered his bow and removed his sword, choosing instead a beautiful black blade that had been forged for him by Riverwake, seasons ago. He passed through the kitchen on the way back out to grab something to eat on the way to the Western Settlement, and was off, without another word to anybeast.
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Shard arrived at the Western Settlement quite a while after Crystal did, but didn't stop to talk to anybeast. He went straight for the beach, cutting through whatever obstacles he might face. Upon reaching it and turning to where he knew the docks to be, he started toward them, his face set in grim determination. It wasn't long at all before he spotted a figure down the beach from him, also heading for the docks, he knew, for it was Crystal Rosepaw. He could tell by the glint of the sun's rays off her weapon, and her distinctive somewhat-limping walk. "Crystal!" he called ahead, quickening his pace to catch up to her.
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Post by Lord Avron Blacktail on Apr 4, 2009 6:18:07 GMT -5
Hooded strangers are not an unusual sight amongst corsairs, and though not much beloved, they are hardly shunned. Many a powerful pirate travels on land with his face in the shadow of a peaked hood, giving false names left, right and center. Such travelers are treated with as much courtesy as any vile, common criminal can be spared by his fellows, yet they are all tied together by the bond of being the same type of delinquent. They are temperamental, judgmental, hardened and brash from years of life on the tough seas, and that makes them predictable. They are the great enemies of the so-called goodbeasts of the world, terrors of the seas that constantly force forward only to be driven back, just like the waves they ride on.
But there are always occasional blasts of fresh, gale-force wind, pushing forward the unchanging tides onto surprised shores. Hidden like gold nuggets in mud, like brilliant spotlights in the dark, there are always those who bring a new gleaming edge to the dishonest and morally questionable. That dishonesty becomes cloaked further, through a modus operandi characterized by the debonair, svelte and ironically charming preference of skill over strength, style over intimidation, quiet over loud. Such ostensible affability is like an optical illusion, hiding the way in which that flair of sophistication and civility twists into a deeper, crueler, far more horrific evil than in those who are both apparently and genuinely criminal. Iron tongues are iron to the core, but silver tongues are sharpened steel beneath the shine.
However, those that are silver-tongued are hardly ever respected by those with dull iron tongues. The iron-tongued often view the best of the silver-tongued as deceitful scum, never understanding the deep, intelligent motives behind the silver-coated actions. And so the corsairs of the Western Settlement could not comprehend the motives behind the mysterious killer's murder of a young, innocent and attractive belle in the prime of her youth, a seemingly unforgivable crime for those who enjoyed the fruits of youth and life, and were used to murderous barroom brawls between grizzled old fighters, not painless, quiet deaths under the soothing touch of the night, a death in all the beauty of the peak of life.
To him, there was nothing more beautiful than such a tragic death. She’d been an enjoyable one, and he’d been tempted to keep her, but then his resolve had returned with double the strength, to end her life in a way befitting of her beauty. She’d been sweet, innocent and enchanted by him, and in her naiveté she’d trusted him, the image of a dashing and charming gentlebeast. That had made her death all the more empowering, for what greater power could one have than to be able to kill one by whom he was trusted? Yet he had had enough appreciation of the enjoyment he had derived from her final hours to let her die swiftly and quietly without terror, an unusual act of mercy on his part. Likewise, her body had been carefully left without mutilation out of respect for her, and put to good use. He knew for certain that the message he had left had been delivered as promptly and somberly as it deserved.
However, her murder had had the downside of making the corsairs of the port less friendly to every cloaked and hooded traveler, particularly those who were unknown to the local folk. Such local folk did not openly fear, but wives and children whispered of a killer in the dark, and the uneasy sentiment permeated the settlement like smog. Yet Avron Blacktail knew that he had more to lose by lowering his hood; for the Marlfox could rightly be believed as the most dangerous of the silver-tongued. While a disguise in the depths of woods, in the company of others his dappled silver-brown pelt was a brilliant advertisement of his personality. Until the planned moment at which he was due to step forward and take responsibility for the vixen's death, he needed to remain anonymous, an unknown dangerous enough to be left alone, but not known for the full danger he was capable of posing.
For this purpose was his shortsword visible in the gap of his cloak, in the absence of his bow and arrows which had been left behind with Kairek at his new lair. The entire length of the sword was just short of the length of his arm, yet it had a wide steel blade with a liquid black sheen, and an unadorned ebony hilt with a grip bound in shagreen – it was evidently a stolen masterpiece, and one that had seen plenty of use. It was shown in a manner of display that was not unusual in so-called “vermin” settlements, yet the normalcy was only because most of the residents and travelers through such regions did not have better, more effective weapons hidden everywhere on their person, like he did. Some of them would become visible upon removal of his cloak, which he did not particularly care for anyway, yet he was not unwise enough to put up his aces for display.
The fox moved swiftly through the dark alleys of the town towards the docks, carefully avoiding the crowds. He could not afford delays, whether they were from the suspicions of overly arrogant brawn-over-brain types, or through simple traffic. He made it a point not to turn up to meetings before the other party, yet he had no intention of being late. To be taken seriously, one couldn’t just be deadly serious at the beginning; one had to be deadly serious all the way through. Deadliness today was unlikely, yet a cease in seriousness was equally unlikely. He did not expect the Guardians to acquiesce to his terms, and then his plan would start rolling in earnest. By its conclusion, the War Commanders, or perhaps even a single War Commander, would stand despairing and encircled by flame atop a figurative mound of burning corpses. Let them then deny him!
Forgoing dramatics for practicality, the fox stopped upon exiting the shadow of the cliff, allowing his pale amber eyes to adapt to the sun. Shielding them, he glanced sideways out along the sand, noting the presence of two figures some distance away, almost alone on the usually-bustling beach. Had he been in their position, he would likely have simply fired an arrow to kill, yet he trusted that they were too moral-bound to commit such an act of dishonor on neutral ground. Dropping his paw, he began to move slowly towards them, his lightly-bound footpaws sinking gently into the damp sand, leaving tracks that were promptly swept over by the trailing hem of his cloak. Smiling smugly and walking at his leisure, he glanced casually over the two famed War Commanders.
One was a squirrel, one a fox, and both were quite young. Avron had heard tell that one of the greatest goodbeast heroes in Mossflower was a vixen, and had been both doubtful and intrigued. He could see now that the rumors were true, and that one of his own intrinsically malicious species was fighting for good and justice. He could barely resist licking his lips under the shadow of his hood, especially as his eyesight focused and picked out her feisty stance and melodramatic clothing. The sun's rays brought to his attention her broadsword, and he could only stifle an audible laugh at her bravado. Now, if only they hadn’t turned up, he had no doubt she would have been his next target.
As he neared them, he could see that both looked tired and unrested, eroded by the deadline he’d set them, just as he’d hoped. That put him at an advantage, on that count at least. His eyes fell on the squirrel, analyzing him exclusively as a fighter in the way he couldn’t with the female. The Guardian had a bow and a blade, as far as could be seen; that covered both far and close combat. That earned the fox’s approval; as far as could be seen and beyond his age, the squirrel looked like he deserved his title. Smiling with slitted eyes, he curled his tail beneath his cloak and wiggled his toes, suppressing the exhilaration boiling in the cold soup of his constitution.
At a distance of six strides away, the tall fox stopped. Unable to resist the drama, he raised gloved paws and lowered his hood slowly, revealing handsome features furred in thick silver and brown, marred only by a thin scar following his jawline. He faced the two Commanders, fixing his pale eyes on them, and pinched the edge of his cloak between thumb and forefinger. He bowed with an eloquent flourish, deliberately allowing the other party a split-second view at the arsenal hidden in the first layer beneath his cloak – as a warning, should they choose to act out of line. Straightening, he dropped his cloak, crossed his arms and inclined his head.
“Commander Prime, Commander Rosepaw, I presume.” With a barely noticeable lick of his lips, he spoke in his soft, velvety tones, a faint smile of genuine delight on his face. “I, your highnesses, am Avron Blacktail.”
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Post by Crystal M. V. Rosepaw on Apr 4, 2009 20:05:02 GMT -5
ooc; Not even going to try to do better than that last post. Rusty. Ha. Oh, and everyone else. Join in! Now! xD This is a plot for EVERYBODY!
bic;
Crystal did not stop nor slow at all as Shard charged up the beach after her, although she heard his shout and his muffled, but never silent, footsteps. The sand rising up in little waves from his paws also made a noise. Due to the angle of the wind, she could not smell him until he was extremely close, which was surprising due to her species. Her hair lashed out to her side as he caught up with her, but still she didn't slow, walking on with determination, her expression hard. Her left leg, limp extremely obvious, sunk into the sand as she placed it down, and she had to make an effort to keep going. She was sure of one thing now - she would never be able to make it back to the fortress tonight.
"Shard," she said quietly as he caught up to her, the S in his name coming off thick with pain. Her voice also ached with the longing for rest which she would not allow her body, and darker emotions. Her emerald orbs glowed, but faintly, as if lifeless. The pair stumbled on a bit more, the vixen fighting off ragged breathing. The last time she could remember working this hard and being so tired was in a fight, and she'd been pulsing with adrenaline then. Now she was just tired. Her leg felt weak, as if it would not support the weight she barely put upon it.
The pair stopped at the end of the docks, and Crystal dully noticed that there were no other people here, except a few beasts unloading and loading up ships. However, a mummer seemed to rush through them, frightened glances falling in the way of the two commanders. The movement slowed and then stopped, the creatures disappearing onto boats. They knew better than to stay. "They're afraid," the vixen commented softly, sadly. She flicked a glance over at Shard to see if he noticed this too.
Sighing and turning her eyes away from him, she took a step away from him, a simple sidestep. With a quiet noise of effort due to her tired limbs, she pulled her broadsword from it's sheath on her back, using momentum to stab it forcefully into the sand by her weak left foot. She thankfully leaned upon it, wrapping her left foot around her right. It came off as smug and carefully, but it was simply so that she didn't collapse during this meeting. Now comfortable, she flicked a glance over to Shard to study him.
He, unlike her, had come in his normal clothing. His bow was shouldered, and his specially made sword was at his hip. His eyes gleamed a warrior's brightness as he stood, ready to take on the phantom. She looked into his eyes for a trace of fear, anger. However, she looked away form them quickly due to an old legend she had heard in some far off land. It stated at if you look to long in a person's eyes you can see their soul, and they would see yours. In her mind, that was private.
She looked before them, and saw a figure tramping 'crossed the sand, not bothering to go any quicker, but having the decency not to slow himself. Last chance, she thought to herself. Again, she sighed, this one heavy with emotion. She turned her eyes up to the sky, the tang of salt water in her nose. Crystal closed her eyes and lowered her muzzle to the ground again, focusing heavily. She trapped back emotions in her mind, cornered them in the dark recesses, and smothered them with a void apathy. She could not, would not, let emotion rule her. It was a long process, putting anger, fear, anxiety, excitement, and pain 'in it's place.'
As she turned her eyes up again, face rid of any expression, still leaning on her sword, the being stood before them. Her tail flicked as she watched him, curiosity nagging. She studied him as he bowed deeply, pulling at his cloak. It would have been a simple movement, but she could clearly see his reasoning behind it. His weapon suddenly became visible to them.
He wants to play hardball, huh? I hope he knows the rules...
She studied him as he rose again. He was a fox like herself, but of a different coloration. His eyes were pale amber in a frightening sort of way, and he was tall and well kept. Along his jaw ran a thin line where fur would not grow over scar tissue. His fur was all that bothered her, though, dappled brown and silver. An actual Marlfox?
“Commander Prime, Commander Rosepaw, I presume. I, your highnesses, am Avron Blacktail.” His voice was fluent, as if belonging to a practiced speaker. It also carried a velvet quality, as if he were trying to be charming. It made him seem less mortal than he was.
The vixen momentarily disobeyed the yowls of protest from her bad leg. She stood up straight, a practiced feat due to how she stood uneven most of the time. Her feet sunk into the sand as she bent at the waist, not bending her back at all. Her bangs fell over her eyes like a curtain. She bent at about a fifty degree angle, making sure to keep her nose towards the ground but her eyes on him. Her paws slid towards her knees, 'thumbs' touching for a brief period in a feminine gesture. She rose again, quickly due to her leg still refusing to hold steady for long.
As she leaned heavily onto her sword again, hoping it looked like something calm and careless and not pained, she spoke, her soprano voice now soft, quiet. "You presume correctly, Mister Blacktail. We have come to meet you as you have so politely asked us." Due to her intense focus previously, her voice, thankfully did not crack on this sentence.
She loathed this creature.
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Post by aeroflyte on Apr 6, 2009 13:44:23 GMT -5
“As for you, the rest of you, tell all the Guardians what has happened. Tell them I and Shard are meeting with him under truce at noon tomorrow. You may all attend, and any other Guardian, but no civilians, and no hostility. If one of you comes threateningly and cause him to run before we can talk to him, you’re talking to me about it.”
He had been one of the Guardians following the cub. Toby. In reality, he had merely been standing watch a mile or two away and had sensed the commotion and decided to tag along to the fortress. On the way, he'd gotten some information from the breathless messenger, but never got the full story until Crystal had announced it. Running didn't allow for talking much, and Teylan felt less guilty if the whole group knew it at the same time as him.
The assorted Guardians, after hearing from Crystal, either milled around looking worried, stood or sat in shock, or, as Teylan did, rushed to get their stuff. A straight-out murder was incredibly rare, and utterly different from killing in war. In war, everything is straightforward. You always half-expect to die, and you usually see your killer or let them see you as their demise. With murder, it's cruel and insidious. You don't expect it, you don't want it, and your murderer is hidden from you.
Teylan didn't know much about the murder. It bothered him, that the victim could have been anyone. Had it been the vole in the bar yesterday that was reciting alcohol-muddled poems to a mirror? Was it the rat he had bumped into? The otter who had split his knuckles on accident with his sling? But no, it had happened at the Western Settlement, not here. Still, though....
Teylan sighed, shoving away the thoughts as he shoved open his door to his quarters. Dimly lit now, with three sputtering tallow candles and a cot and table on a packed earthen floor that was cool on his paws. A few coarse parchments were nailed to the wall. On them was a much-marked on alphabet. On the table, several more papers were piled up, weighted down with a smoothed river rock which had veins of opalescent minerals running through it. There was a shallow shelf running on one of the thick wooden walls, with assorted clothes and etc. piled up.
He sighed, sniffing the stale air, and walked to the furthermost wall, grasping the edge of a windowsill. Grunting, he forced it open as years of grime and sediment fell from the crevices or the sill. A beam of natural light hit the room, along with a breath of wind. He heaved more, and the small window opened fully, illuminating the room for the first time in a long time. He didn't know why he hadn't opened it before now, but...
He shook his head and heaved a rucksack from a corner examining the interior for any useful material. Finding nothing but dust, he shoved in an extra pair of clothes, and a few biscuits he had filched from the kitchen. Grabbing his staff and sling on the way out the door, he began walking on the path towards the Western Settlement.
––––––– Teylan was slightly more gifted in tracking than in literature, so it wasn't too hard to figure out where Crystal and Shard had gone. Of course, it helped that Shard was only a half-mile ahead and leaving a fresher trail. As he gnawed on his last biscuit, wishing he had the foresight to have gotten more food, he noticed the tell-tale signs of approaching civilization. The sun was all but gone, and the main source of light was a feeble one, coming from the cityscape of taverns, homes, and late-working shipyards. Teylan sighed contentedly and broke into a quick run, towards the outpost.
When he was nearing the heart of the city, now quiet with the oppressive curtain of night, a slam resounded down a broad pathway. Seeing as the only sign of life was a cautious head peering out of a tavern window, he walked quickly to it, stepping over a foul-smelling sewer grate and avoiding a few closed vendor stalls. Opening the broad doors of the bar, all the while muttering about the state of the settlement. Stepping in and blinking at the change in light and temperature, he grinned cheerily at the few drunks and civilians who took notice of his entrance. Most either scowled into their mugs or simply blinked. Sauntering over to the bar, he nodded politely at the barkeep and asked quietly, "Ye haven't seen a vixen around here lately?"
The overweight rat looked pointedly at the otter's satchel, then at the kegs of assorted beverages.. Rummaging for a few minutes, Teylan surfaced with a meager few copper pieces, which he handed over. "Gimme your best", he sighed.
The rat nodded curtly, muttered "Look o'er there iffen ye want yer vixen," and ducked under the counter, surfacing with a grimy mug. Tapping a bottom keg, he poured a brownish amber liquid into the mug, slamming it onto the counter. Teylan nodded slightly, only now looking over to the figure the rat had pointed out. She was a mousemaid of younger years, with a pretty figure but for her downtrodden, haunted demeanor. Teylan winced, took a swig of his drink, and winced again. Abandoning the vile substance on the counter, he slid off his seat, and padded cautiously towards the figure. He laid a paw gently on her shoulder. She turned around, wariness in her eyes and an explanation on her lips. "Don't worry, miss," he said. "I don't want to know." In reality, he was burning up with curiosity, the the maid was stressed as it was. "Just, if it's not too much, tell me where the lady fox went." ---
On the beach, the otter's exhaustion caught up with him. The sand made for hard going, and the tide's rhythm lulled him into a walking slumber, where the moonlit sand blended with the ocean foam, and the velvet black of the sky seemed all-consuming. He stumbled slightly, webbed footpaw finding no purchase on a dune, and collapsed on his knees. I should have at least found an inn in town... But it was too late now, and he simply fell asleep in the protective curve of a dune, arms curled protectively around his meager belongings. ----
The sun wasn't what woke him up. Yes, it had helped, but a lone squirrel's cry, echoing desolately over the stretch of sand and docks, cut through the twilit land of Teylan's subconscious, jolting him awake. He squinted against the risen sun, berating himself for not waking up sooner. He stood stiffly, and spat the sand from his mouth. It did not help. The sand was ingrained in his fur now, and in his nostrils and ears. He muttered angrily, shaking his body in an effort to rid himself of the tiny particles. Scratching his shoulders absently and gazing at the sea, he laughed suddenly. The sea! What was he doing, clawing at himself like a cur, when the sea was meters away! He was an otter, was he not? Checking his satchel to make sure there was no items that would be ruined by the water (and to make sure nothing had been stolen), he chuckled wryly and sprinted towards the open water, grateful for the deep tide. Running up a dock and flinging himself off it into the water, he slid in with barely a splash. Blinking the salt from his eyes and grinning like a cub, he looked toward land, searching for what must have been Shard and, doubtless, Crystal as well, and ignoring suspicious looks from assorted shipbeasts.. A red smudge caught his eye. Good thing Crys had decided to dress up for once, however much she despised inhibiting clothing. Spying an inlet near the duo– wait, was it a trio? Was he that late? Shaking his head dismissively, he began toward it at a substantial clip, his mood unsuppressed by his ultimate purpose there.
After all, he was an otter, and he was in the water.
OOC: I should be working on the Arena, I know... I'm glad I got one this long, but I wish I did the end better. I don't have mad RP skills like you guys. XD
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Yasmine
Private
Don't expect something smart here from me...!c!Default
Posts: 26
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Post by Yasmine on Apr 6, 2009 15:51:45 GMT -5
OOC: Ha! If you're bad, aero, then I'm a disgrace. I don't think I should even bother to match all of yours.
BIC:
Since Yasmine was the one who escorted Toby to the fort, she felt it was her duty to make sure he was taken care of during his stay. And if that was surprising enough, she even decided to take him back to his home. Yasmine shook her head, almost convinced some spirit of some sort had taken over her mind.
Nevertheless, she payed for a drink and a meal at one of the inns, accompanied him to find Shard, though when they did find him, she hung back as far as she respectfully could. Yasmine made sure he had a comfortable place to sleep, and during the morning she made sure that Toby was kept in her sights, until she escorted him back to his town. The two set out immediately after breakfast, sprinting faster than they had the previous day. This time Yasmine had her quiver stuffed full of arrows and her bow already strung strapped to her back. Also, her staff that she reluctantly convinced herself to bring was gripped tightly in her right paw (it was rather uncomfortable to have a quiver, a bow, and a wooden staff pressed against her back). Yasmine still carried the sheath with her daggers in them, as if everything else wasn't enough, though the mouse didn't plan on using them.
With all her gear, it might have seemmed that she was suited out for war. For all Yasmine knew, it might turn out to be that way. She didn't like this Blacktail character, from the tone of his note and his way of delivering it. Yasmine was prepared for anything, ready to deal with any for that strayed into her path.
It was closing in on noon when the two had finally reached the town. Yasmine stopped only to recieve the uneeded thanks Toby's mother stuttered, and to take a few deep breaths before continuing her journey to the docks (though it was a short journey). Yasmine ran considerably slower than before, and she scolded herself for it, but her body refused any notion to run any faster, complaining that they had sprinted at top speed only a few minutes before. When Yasmine finally neared the docks, she caught a glimpse of Shard and Crystal, and another fox she did not recognize. Slowing down, now gasping for breath, Yasmine narrowed her eyes, betting her life on the table that this was the "esteemed" Lord Blacktail.
Reminding herself that she was supposed to appear unarmed, Yasmine leaned against a tree at the edge of the forest line, Yasmine laid her staff against the trunk beside her, and unfastened her sheath from her belt, dropping it on the grass. She didn't bother to hide her bow and arrows, seeing as the commanders didn't exactly come unarmed as well. The mouse shut her eyes and willed herself to steady her breathing. When it was to her satisfaction, Yasmine stepped outside the cover of the branches and leaves and stood towards the back of the clearing, gazing at the fox emotionlessly. He was one of those that irritated her at first sight, and her dislike of him grew, but the mouse refused to show any hint of that. Not one little bit.
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Shard Prime
War Commander
Head Ranger
I'd put something clever here, but you wouldn't get it.
Posts: 208
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Post by Shard Prime on Apr 11, 2009 18:17:36 GMT -5
[OOC: I haven't abandoned you all. x.x Life's been kicking me off the computer a lot lately. ] --- Shard. The squirrel felt sorry for his friend. He wanted to help her somehow, if only by serving as a crutch. He knew that he could not, however. He knew that it would be taken as a sign of weakness, and that she was too proud to accept any assistance. He wanted to tell himself that he would be different in her situation, but he knew he would not. He knew that he would carry on through the pain, alone, denying aid until he could no longer move. His already-great respect for Crystal Rosepaw rose even more just then. The two stopped at the docks' end. The place was practically empty. Shard's ear twitched at Crystal's comment, and turned his head slightly to meet her glance. They were indeed afraid. And should they not be? A clash of powers was about to occur; who could know what might take place that day? He hardly noticed her sidestep. In the first instant, he thought she had stumbled somehow, but then knew what she was up to when she buried her sword in the ground. The squirrel's eyes had always held much emotion, and now was no different. If a particularly empathetic person were to study his shining green eyes that morning, he or she might find a rainbow of emotion, depending on what was being searched for. He noticed Crystal looking at him from the side, but made no move to meet her gaze, as he did not want to see that she was either overconfident or fearful. He was sure that she was neither, but either of the two looks stamped upon her face would surely unnerve him. Shard found his paw resting on the pommel of the ebony blade at his side as the unmistakable figure approached them from the somewhat-distant shadow of the cliff. He knew immediately who it was, and wondered if Crystal had reached the same conclusion. For the next several seconds Shard wanted nothing more than to unsling his bow and let loose an arrow, right into the center of his hooded face. He was in control of himself, though, no longer the instinctual hunter he had been at one time. Commander Prime, Commander Rosepaw, I presume. Shard scowled, but quickly reformed his face into a slight, neutral frown. His jaw twitched, thankfully unnoticably, as he didn't know what to say. He was thankful that Crystal answered instead. You presume correctly, Mister Blacktail. We have come to meet you as you have so politely asked us. Politely asked... Indeed. Shard's gaze never left those pale amber eyes, and hardly blinked. Shard did well to hide the steely, cold edge in his voice as he replied, "For what purpose have you summoned us, Avron Blacktail?" He could not hide the furious inferno in his eyes, however, no matter how hard he might try. Shard had guessed at the answer long before he asked the question. If things that day went as he assumed they would, he was ready to fight for his home.
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Post by Lord Avron Blacktail on Apr 14, 2009 15:26:24 GMT -5
He could have purred with pleasure. It was perfect, all of it, for even Nature seemed to have taken it upon herself to make this a day to remember. The drama that occurred before the eyes of the sky had no pall upon the peaceful blue above, and the sun sat high in the sky, bathing the world in fierce, brilliant light undiluted by clouds. Winds swept up by the turbulent spring seas skimmed and stirred the surface of the sand, turning up miniature dunes, fluttering cloak hems and leaving the salty tang of the endless horizons fresh on tongues. Waves lapped and seagulls cried, spinning a quiet cocoon of sound that was constant and everywhere, a lull that stirred each soul to quietude.
Yet he could not let his guard down, for though the meeting had begun with flawless execution on his part, the best was yet to come.
Shrugging his shoulders to fit his crossed arms into a more comfortable arrangement, he rested his weight on his back leg, subtly stressing his inoffensive, defensive stance. He was not unaware of how isolated they were, even with the one shipload of corsairs that were sworn to stand by and, as it were, ‘preserve the peace and neutrality’. It did not take a genius to see that the corsairs were slightly biased in favor of their own alignment, and would not hesitate to wreak vengeful havoc on the Guardians that had conquered their settlement. Yet Avron was nothing short of genius, and had needed to do no more than suggest to the corsairs that they ought to keep their eye on things. Justice was a powerful ally, it was true, yet weathered pirates could often be counted on to be a little less judgmental and a little more immediately effective.
His eyes were drawn to the edge of the beach where the sand petered out into thin gravel and soil, where he thought he might have seen a little movement, yet his attention snapped back to the two problems immediately before him when one of them shifted. It was the vixen, who promptly made something of a bow-curtsey that refreshed the smile on his face. His eyes moved quickly over the broadsword, now buried tip-deep in the sand, assessing it, before his attention returned to the vixen herself.
“You presume correctly, Mister Blacktail.”
Something of a sneer pulled at Avron’s still-smiling lips, as he noted the vixen’s use of ‘Mister’. It was too early to judge, but in his book that suggested an inattentiveness to details, or a deliberate disrespect for the Marlfox himself. Either would be an advantage for him, a disadvantage for them.
“We have come to meet you as you have so politely asked us."
Now, what an amusing statement. His tongue snaked out and licked his lips again, tasting sea salt in the air, as he quelled the delight within him; a delight like a child’s upon discovering birthday presents. Pale amber eyes lingered on the vixen’s face, obviously searching with no pretense. Where better to find weakness than in a pretty pair of eyes? And these green eyes certainly were quite pretty…
His eyes flickered away to the squirrel, upon deciding that the vixen had no more to say. He shifted his weight again slightly, seeing the squirrel’s gaze upon him. He waited for the squirrel to speak, for, as was apparent in his mind, this was a game of chess, wit pitted against wit. Yet as the challenger he had deliberately challenged two as one, and he could hardly disregard the rules that he had himself thus established. The opposition had two kings that could be killed; in exchange they had two moves per turn. An additional king, an additional move; either could be advantage or disadvantage, and it would be a test of Avron’s skill whether he could turn them both into hindering disadvantages for them.
Meeting the squirrel’s eyes, he waited, and was duly rewarded. "For what purpose have you summoned us, Avron Blacktail?"
That was a statement that would have made a lesser beast rub his paws together in delight and babble out his plan. Yet Avron threaded his response together in his mind with deliberate care, letting the tension-filled silence haunt the air, taking his time. This could be nothing less than flawless. He appreciated the squirrel’s directness in a way, he supposed, yet it did not make anything easier. He would have perhaps preferred simply to respond to the vixen instead, yet then again the longer he talked the more he was bound to let something slip. The focus of his eyes snapped quickly back to the vixen.
“Now, Commanders, may I first apologize for any inconvenience or discourtesy that I may have offended yourselves with, and stress my hopes that this might be a cooperative and productive discussion.”
He paused, savoring the intoxication of the smooth words slipping off of his tongue like wine flowing over silk, and the languid steel of his amber eyes met the rage of the squirrel’s, to address the opposition’s second move.
“And of course, forgive me if I have given any impression that you should be here on my whim, as the word ‘summon’ might suggest, and please understand that I simply thought that we should meet. As it is, there are a few matters that I thought might be of relevance to yourselves, and would like to address.”
Again another pause, this time for him to address his own thoughts, in order to present the crucial announcement of the meeting, which he now had to disclose flawlessly. The rest did not matter half as much as this; without this being delivered in perfection, nothing could arise from all of his meticulous planning. A measured sigh, a curl of a concealed, black-tipped tail, and he was off and running.
“I am sure that important persons such as yourselves will be familiar with the fiefdoms of the Northern Reaches. They are now notorious for criminality and violence, a general state of complete disunity. However, less than a decade past, the hard yet brilliant lands of the North were united in a single nation, peaceful and prosperous. A model country, it was insidiously unraveled and discreetly dissolved by corrupt dissenters and troublemakers, and the land impoverished for the personal gain of the mutinous schemers that orchestrated this cruel conspiracy.”
He paused again, deliberately, taking the moment to glance over both the commanders in a softened movement that was no longer a flickering dart of the pale eyes. Like the venom of his tongue was coated with silver, so the edge of contempt in his eyes was cloaked with a plea for sympathy and understanding. He blinked; the pause of an insubstantial tick of time passed, and was gone.
“Now, the identities of some of these grand architects have since been revealed, and certain trails have led me to believe that a former member of the Guardians of Mossflower, your group, partook in these events. In fact, it might be said that this Guardian was heavily involved in the atrocities that were committed, and claimed a significant prize for his cruelty, which he hid away. This thief and criminal, dare I say, was among the group that cruelly deposed the guardians of order in the North, the ruling estate of the nation.
It happens that many of this ruling estate were massacred, and others remain missing, feared dead. However, of that estate remains one scion, an heir to that estate and rightful, vengeful lord over the now-decrepit Northern Reaches. As that scion and heir, I have sought the great heirlooms of my bloodline, fearing that they may have been destroyed or lost. Yet now, it has come to my attention that some of my rightful property is most probably hidden within your treasuries, by that criminal whom I fear must have fooled such praiseworthy beasts as yourself with pretenses of honor. As upholders of justice I hold yourselves in highest esteem, and stress that against you I have no enmity, and hope that your justice might extend to one such as myself in returning my stolen property.”
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Post by Crystal M. V. Rosepaw on Apr 15, 2009 17:57:19 GMT -5
ooc;; This should be... amusing. Crystal's kind of a zen state, but fears he's imply that she or Marie are the one that stole from him. So yeah. Yay for personality flaws...? Also, I count in years, not seasons. That really comes into play.
bic;;
Crystal's leg screamed at her for even daring to bow, but her discipline was hardened to the point that her body dare not disobey her will. The vixen mentally turned on all of her senses to a hyperactive state, but made cool, calm motions of deep breaths and the occasional shift of weight to make it appear that she was not about to fall apart. Shard took his turn to speak now. However, the other War Commander, the calmer of the two on most days, was slowly, in her mind, going mad with rage.
Crystal's imagination went on a mad rage, and she could suddenly feel the waves of heat pouring from Shard, and hear the hiss of steam as it meet her aura of cold, placid apathy. However, she could, and she wasn't imagining it, feel the burn of her own desires to take up her sword. Her paws itched and jerked a bit as she willed them to respond to her. Before the the pair of 'justice bringing heroes', the witty villain stood, his attitude as fake as her own. Perhaps it was a racial thing; he also made tiny little mistakes like she was, licking his lips to often to be completely calm, having to force his blinking to stay even. She was aware she was doing it as well, but that didn't matter. Nobody's perfect, she told herself in a level tone.
"For what purpose have you summoned us, Avron Blacktail?" Shard's voice cut her from her thoughts, drawing her back to the presence. As he took in a soft breath to speak, the vixen turned her head to him, trying not to show she'd been lost for a moment. Her peer was doing well to try to sound calm, but he was not playing the part the pair of foxes were; vixen and dog wound around each other with wit set to banter, but the squirrel could not stand to do nothing. She wanted nothing more than to snap something at him, and tell him to calm himself, and she was sure a look of displeasure crossed her face briefly before she turned back to Blacktail. She wiped emotion clear of her face again, her lips turned down not in a frown, but in a look of no care at all. She blinked slowly, as if willing him to speak.
he meet her gaze briefly, as if actually looking through her, but he then focused his gaze back onto her. Probably due to the fact that she seemed much less aggressive now. And... He told his tale. Lord Blacktail wove a story of his home flawlessly, pausing in all the right places, taking sharp little intakes of breaths to go on in the correct places. He did not pause his story overly long ever throughout it's telling, which made her think he may have practiced it. But wait...
A theft from his home lands in the North? She'd been north once to fight for her actual homelands. Eight years had gone by, almost nine now. Had the new freedoms collapsed, and somebody had created horrors there? But she was so very sure that none of her Guardians had been to the North... Was he even speaking of the same regions? But wait... Marie had left to fight in the north a few years after she'd come back. Both were under a decade... What was he implying?
Marie was one of the Guardians' greatest legends. And she herself was no petty criminal, if that was the underlined threat. She had brought nothing back but her family and herself and weapons. Her paw found a grip in the hilt of her sword, thin, spidery fingers wrapping around it until the knuckles stuck out and it plain hurt to grip it.
Crystal spoke up a few moments after he'd finished, "I can say with near certainty that very few of the Guardians' have been much farther north than Redwall Abbey and maybe it's Northernmost gates. I know for a fact that myself and an older warrior named Marie Blue-eyes and her husband went that way at one point as well. However, if I recall correctly, the legendary fortress of the Marlfox was not as far north as ether myself or Marie traveled.
"What's more, I'm also sure that Marie did not return to us after the war. I believe she retired to either Salamandraston or the Abbey to live the rest of her life with her family in a safe place. Meaning, if I know my records correctly, no other Guardian besides myself was in the North in a time of major battle. I presume we are thinking of different areas of the north, though, Lord Blacktail, since nobody would dare assume I would steal." Her eyes burned now more than Shard's had at any time in the conversation. She had probably gotten it wrong, probably made a fool of herself and all her Guardians, but... Would difference would it make? Who would believe a murderer? And Shard would not dishonor anyone like that, would he...?
The vixen closed her eyes briefly, barring the wall in her mind even more heavily with a deep breath. She coughed once to hide a moan of pain from her crippled leg, and politely covered her mouth with a paw. She went back to leaning against the blade, but pressed her weight against it more heavily, and holding a paw around the grip, and held the other close in a way of warning Blacktail to watch how he worded things. She spoke again after another brief pause, this time with the clarity and calmness as she had possessed before.
"I apologize for my outburst, but I cannot fathom a Guardian doing any such unlawful act. However, you have not told us about the treasure. And of treasures, I'm afraid we have very, very few. And those have mostly been given to us by nobles in the area for our assistance. However, if you can give me a good description of it or anything that makes this heirloom different, I can see if we could search the fortress for it. It is also possible that a thief in the area of the Guardians has it, and, if so, we would be happy to assist you in it's return." Crystal then made an effort to keep herself calm.
As a nervous habit, she rose a paw to her face, propping her elbow on the hilt. She put a finger in her mouth and bit down with a fang, grazing the skin beneath fur. She looked over at Shard, begging for assistance with her eyes. The vixen gnawed on her paw, not even noticing she was doing it. Anger still pulsated through her, and she was amazed they could not see her heartbeat.
She promised herself that he'd pay for this.
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Shard Prime
War Commander
Head Ranger
I'd put something clever here, but you wouldn't get it.
Posts: 208
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Post by Shard Prime on Apr 21, 2009 19:28:11 GMT -5
[OOC: Sorry I'm late again; I haven't been on the computer much the past couple of days. >_<]
---
Now, Commanders, may I first apologize for any inconvenience or discourtesy that I may have offended yourselves with, and stress my hopes that this might be a cooperative and productive discussion.
Shard hated the calmness in his voice. He hated the way the fox before him spoke to the two War Commanders. His voice was so smooth, too smooth; the words that came out of his mouth flowed like water, and it made Shard sick. The squirrel's expression did not show this, but his eyes slightly reflected his distaste.
And of course, forgive me if I have given any impression that you should be here on my whim, as the word ‘summon’ might suggest, and please understand that I simply thought that we should meet. As it is, there are a few matters that I thought might be of relevance to yourselves, and would like to address.
Shard nodded and waited for the fox to continue. This pause seemed to last several minutes. The squirrel stared into his eyes all the while, never wavering and only blinking when he needed to. He was probing the amber eyes of his adversary with his own emerald green eyes, searching for something, anything that could give him some kind of advantage, such as a moment of unsureness, though he knew this one was not easily read.
The fox began to speak again. Northern Reaches? Shard recognized the place, nodding once at its mention. He had been far and wide, the the North and South, and off the continent. Shard was, in fact, a foreigner, though very few people knew of this.
Now, the identities of some of these grand architects have since been revealed, and certain trails have led me to believe that a former member of the Guardians of Mossflower, your group, partook in these events. In fact, it might be said that this Guardian was heavily involved in the atrocities that were committed, and claimed a significant prize for his cruelty, which he hid away. This thief and criminal, dare I say, was among the group that cruelly deposed the guardians of order in the North, the ruling estate of the nation.
It happens that many of this ruling estate were massacred, and others remain missing, feared dead. However, of that estate remains one scion, an heir to that estate and rightful, vengeful lord over the now-decrepit Northern Reaches. As that scion and heir, I have sought the great heirlooms of my bloodline, fearing that they may have been destroyed or lost. Yet now, it has come to my attention that some of my rightful property is most probably hidden within your treasuries, by that criminal whom I fear must have fooled such praiseworthy beasts as yourself with pretenses of honor. As upholders of justice I hold yourselves in highest esteem, and stress that against you I have no enmity, and hope that your justice might extend to one such as myself in returning my stolen property.
Shard politely held his silence until the Avron finished speaking. A murderer, asking for justice? Shard would have had a smart retort to that, but held his tongue this time. He felt that he shouldn't provoke or attack this one, for fear of igniting a war.
He listened to Crystal's response and nodded in agreement. He was trying to think of something to say, but could not seem find the words. After a long pause, he spoke, with a calm face.
"Lord Blacktail, there is not much I can say that my companion has not said already. However, I must request an explanation of the means you used to contact us. While I cannot disagree that it certainly received our immediate attention, I assure you that we could have held a private meeting without any loss of life."
Shard's tone and expression of stern calmness remained constant throughout his speech, and his eyes remained locked onto Avron's, before, during, and after. He wished he could have said something other than that, but nothing came to mind.
In any case, Shard knew this would not end well.
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Post by aeroflyte on Apr 24, 2009 19:36:08 GMT -5
OOC: Imma post here in a sec. Sorry for not being on much, but I've had other stuff.
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Post by Lord Avron Blacktail on May 2, 2009 8:20:14 GMT -5
Congratulatory applause sounded dimly in the confines of Avron’s mind as the last of his ironic words rolled off of his tongue. His face was still graced with a pleasant smile and the expression in his eyes remained softened beyond recognition, his stance open and welcoming. His eyes shifted to the vixen as he noticed her movement, slight yet somewhat threatening. Of course, only in a comical way. Such thin fingers wrapping around such a great sword could hardly be anything less than comical, could it? And such emotion! Females were far too fragile for something like this. Well, at least she provided some entertainment.
He stood still and listened, concentrating on the vixen’s rushed words as they suddenly poured forth. In a desperate rush she spoke of herself and another Guardian, a Marie, as the only ones to have ever ventured north. And—how dare she, really?—she went so far as to suggest that Avron was misunderstood with her about the location of his fortress, and that it was not, in fact, in the far North. Such a misunderstanding was unlikely, and such a suggestion of incompetence on his part could not be considered as anything less than a personal affront. But it did not matter, for any beast only had to listen to their tone of voice to decide who was more likely to be right in this particular case: the desperate vixen, defending her own integrity with zeal and fearful rage, or him, the cool, suave and composed diplomat.
When she paused, he reproached himself for letting his ego get the better of him. However, as he watched her uncomfortable movements, he took delight in assuming that he had caused her significant distress. He hadn’t expected her to be so easy to break down, yet now he knew, and what valuable information it was. He watched her pull herself together, still smiling softly with an expression of sympathy, though inside he was gloating, despite all his attempts to remain cool. She might apologize for her outburst, yet she could not take back the sudden blaze of emotion that had gotten the better of her.
It still took him by surprise when she began gnawing on her fingers; he had had no idea she was quite this fragile. He was slightly disappointed, yet pushed the irrelevant thoughts out of his head. Her words would not be too difficult to address, and could be done with perfect civility to continue his pretense of amiability. That was no problem.
His pale eyes shifted back to fix on the squirrel. This one was something of a problem, though. He might say something similar to his last question, something direct enough to force Avron to reply in defensive ways that he was not accustomed to.
"Lord Blacktail, there is not much I can say that my companion has not said already. However, I must request an explanation of the means you used to contact us. While I cannot disagree that it certainly received our immediate attention, I assure you that we could have held a private meeting without any loss of life."
He was not disappointed. The squirrel asked a question that had to be asked, yet would have been more comfortable to avoid. But who was he to say? It did, after all, have to be answered, though Avron could have protested against the squirrel’s word choice yet again. He shrugged lightly. If this was to be the squirrel’s strategy, then it was time to respond in kind.
The tall fox stood straighter, distributing his weight equally between his two legs, spreading his footpaws. He straightened his back and uncrossed his arms, for crossed arms were defensive yet unthreatening; now he needed to be a little more direct. He wrapped the gloved fingers of his right paw around the pommel of his shortsword, and swept his cloak over his shoulder with his other paw. With the obstruction of his cloak removed, his knives were visible: three of his throwing knives, one of his stilettos and a dagger, all poisoned and safely sheathed. His demeanor was obviously much changed- openly hostile now, he looked straight at the squirrel, the pathetic fake smile gone from his features, his amber eyes returned their usual edge.
“I must regret, Commander, that you chose to bring this up now, yet as you request an explanation, I will explain myself.” He enunciated each syllable sharply, distinguishing from the silky flow of his usual speech, though he could not help but to soften the harshness a little, for such a voice from such a fox was unsuitable. “I have been cordial to yourselves thus far, or so I have intended, perhaps to the point of amiability, yet I am sure that you have not been for a moment convinced. Allow me now to affirm your assumptions, and, in addition, allow me to make clear my seriousness. I do not consider myself one to be trifled with, and I would advise you to do the same. Clearly those who misunderstand my sincerity do not end up well off.”
Avron turned his head to face the vixen now, his ears pointing straight up to emphasize his lack of pretense now. He would address her points and see how much more he could break her down. Someone needed to teach her her place.
“And you, Commander Rosepaw.” He emphasized the sounds of her name, stressed mockingly that she was not named for the role she now so ill-fittingly assumed. Who could spare to be convivial now? “I assure you that I have no intention of casting doubts on your integrity, or of your comrade Marie. I would, however, also assure you that I believe we may be well talking of the same regions, for you presume me to be speaking of the legendary stronghold of my kind, the Marlfoxes, and you presume quite incorrectly. Foxes of our variety occur with rarity elsewhere, like my family, and my ancestors were lords of the northlands, with which you are apparently quite familiar.
The thief of whom I speak, while not yourself, I imagine, was one whom was known vaguely by number of seabeasts of an alignment contrasting with your own, as a formidable enemy, and his name was ever associated with your establishment. It is my belief that he may have been a representative of your association, who found significant success as such a representative, and his name has been tied here since. Furthermore, in my understanding, the Guardians of Mossflower underwent a period of inactivity. I also have come to understand that a reunion occurred eventually after this inactivity, and I speculate that the thief returned here from the north then, to hide what he had stolen within your grounds while your fortress was rebuilt. I must ask of you, can you truly presume to know the activities of every one of your members during your hiatus?”
He paused, to let the question simmer. It would force an admission of a minor weakness from them, and would emphasize his knowledge and preparation for this. He glanced quickly at the squirrel, addressing the question to him in silence; he was probably the one who needed to be dealt with. His focus returned to the vixen, and his eyes narrowed.
“But forgive me. You have extended a generous offer to help to me, which I hope that you will be able to honor. The heirloom of which I speak is in fact a weapon, a dirk with a black blade and blue stone. There might also be, I believe, another heirloom of my house, an unusual cloak, a silver-grey somewhat resembling my pelt on the outside, and lined with dark green velvet with silver embroidery, of stylized wolfsbane.”
His mouth snapped shut and his tongue curled in his mouth, as the unintended cloud of wistful melancholy cleared from his pale eyes. With his focus regained, he directed his cool glare at first the vixen, before transferring the full brunt of his malice against the squirrel. Through half-lidded eyes he absorbed the scene around him, taking in the tension and using it to straighten his posture. Soon, perhaps, this could finally start.
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Post by Crystal M. V. Rosepaw on May 2, 2009 13:28:29 GMT -5
Perhaps the darker natures of all those present would play a part in the events to unfold. The murderous Marlfox had already staked his claim and placed his bets. Shard had already shown darker cracks that he normally hid, a hunger for vengeance in his voice and playing a part in his movements like the stalking of a hungry feline. The vixen played the middle role; although she had not fully shown her darker side as Blacktail had, she had shown more cracks than Shard. Although none of them were really as she'd act if she'd be feeling a little less in touch with herself, she'd cracked. She'd shown she wanted one thing, if any, and that was to see this threat go down in flames, and use this legend to strengthen the Gaurdians and form unity. However, there were also more personal reasons. If she showed anything less than anger and malice to him, but in a dignified manner, she might be cast in the relems of doubt she'd worked so hard to run from. She'd proven herself many times against the dark forces of the lands, and one dark force was her own people, who doubted her. However, taking his head off here would simply merge her in shadows, while capturing him would mean she held a torch up against it.
Still, reflex could not be met halfway. She'd carried herself through the slime of the wretched, and could always feel it sticking to her fur and melting to her skin. Crystal had always tried to do the right thing when she could, but she could not see the future. She, like any other, had made mistakes. It was just a fact of life - everyone messes up, and she was one in everyone. But she could differ; she refused to do ask she wished. During her years alone and fighting constantly for her life, she'd become feral, cruel, and sometimes barbaric. She'd shown this nature the last time a force stood against the Guardians by putting a new meaning for the phrase 'blood lust' down for all to see. She was haunted still by the memory of feeling of tearing flesh with teeth, and enjoying the feel of the heartbeat of her enemy under her tounge, at her mercy. However, the vixen gave no mercy to the damned, and Blacktail was one of them.
Shard spoke quietly as her walls cracked a bit, small puffs of make-believe dust falling from it. The vixen struggled to keep her mind away from ugly wants welling up in her and stick to what was happening. The Marlfox had shrugged her words off calmly, it seemed, but Shard's had him ruffled. Tiny shifts in his posture from before were nothing compared to this. Blacktail's facial expression turned angry, and he moved quickly, deliberately. He cast the cloak over his shoulder, and exposed the sheaths of the weapons at his hip. Now that they were exposed to the wind, the vixen picked up a faint reek of some kind of poison. Obviously, one of his weapons, at least, were laced with some kind of awful substance, which would make an outright fight with him undesirable. The vixen blinked one, her face slack, unimpressed. He'd shown them his arms before, he was just being more hostile. However, an open threat could not be ignored. With a tiny noise of annoyance at the fact of having to shift again that masked her now racing heart, she stood completely straight and wrapped down paws around the sword's hilt, shifting it a bit so that it came out of the sand, but was still lowered. Tendons showed in heavy lines as the other fox spoke, and she licked her lower lip. (Just get him now. Make him pay for what he did to he-)
Now he claimed that the Guardians knew the thief, and that they came back after the fallout. Blacktail also seemed to somehow know that the person who had wronged him was one of the sea. The dog-fox also said that this person was a he. True enough - she did not keep good tabs on them. She simply required that Rikian tell her if anything was amiss there so she could speak to Scratchfur. However, it still seemed silly. After things had fallen apart, she;d went back to the water herself to see how well fortune favored her. She'd come back a bit before the others had had began repairing first with help from Rikian. New suspicions sprung to mind, but she knew not to voice them. She would find out that angle for hersel, since all that would take was a pretty look and sitting close to the captain of the Guardians' ship.
He tried to compose himself now, but he still showed malice. She blinked at him, not bothering to slow it and look less threatening. She did not notice the way her mouth had now tangle itself into a smirk that briefly showed her teeth. Mad glee danced in her eyes which were sparkling now with unmasked pleasure. The excitement of the fight was her drug, her addiction. (Make him take the words back... Make him hurt, bleed. Tear him apart and burn the pieces...) She wondered how long it would take Shard to draw his weapon. Maybe she, herself, was the Guardian's weapon. Perhaps Shard didn't even want the bloodshed now. How long could he hold her back if he wanted too? They'd never been all that close - although her weaknesses were obvious, he didn't know how to make it hurt the most. Or was she just a tool to be disposed of, here to strike back against those who dared oppose the Guardians, but then either fade to black or was able to die in the tragic mess? Crystal liked to keep a friendship with paranoia, but didn't speak for the moment, as she liked to keep friends to herself.
Quietly, she spoke, her voice light and soft, but with an edge that wasn't really there, only implied. "Lord Blacktail, I'd be more than pleased to assist you in find whatever you want that was unlawfully taken from you, as I have said before. There's just one little problem," she said this bit sadly, as if displeased to break the news to him, although the same look of daring happiness still pressed itself over her features. "You see, murder is a crime in these lands - my lands. You might rule elsewhere, but this is not your place. I would hate to not be in the favor of your kind, and thus I have not done the customary punishment for your own crimes - execution. I have reason to believe that you killed an innocent, murdered rather. You also say that the theif was a he, a Guardian at some point, and a seabeast. The victim matches none of those.
"I'll be happy to help you..." Her voice took edge now, the blade being hefted upwards easily, pointing at him threatening. "As soon as you have reaped a punishment. Shard, what shall it be?"
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Post by Lord Avron Blacktail on May 2, 2009 14:58:26 GMT -5
There was excitement, there was tension. There was strong emotion in Avron’s body for the first time in a long while: pure delight, almost triumph, whispered by his heart to infiltrate his cool mind. He welcomed it, however, for it was cool, cruel delight, at what he was doing, what he had done, and what he was going to do. These so-called goodbeasts with their holier-than-thou attitudes hadn’t seen anything yet, and had they been able to see into the depths of the fox’s twisted mind, even the hardened shell of seasoned warriors might crack. Still, he remained composed; openly hostile, but still collected and visibly calm. He was a master of suppression, a skill he’d learned with terrible difficulties over the years, and yet the consequences were nothing to what he had gained.
He smiled again, yet with all the cushioning gone. His pointed canines were easily visible, his lip curled in a condescending sneer, all emphasized by the rigidity of his posture. The already-tall fox looked his tallest yet, his head held high and his preened silver fur dully illuminated by the sun. The light was warm where it could be felt, and yet ironically, the atmosphere down on the beach was hardly warm. His fingers curled tighter around the hilt of his sword as an involuntary shiver crawled through his body, a delectable blend of anticipation and cruel pleasure.
The vixen too looked hostile now, yet apparently she had pulled herself together. Well, if anything she should get credit for being unpredictable; for now her lips pulled up into a smirk for a split second, baring her teeth. As a canine and fox himself, he recognized it as a feral threat, instinctive and subconscious, and he responded in kind as his hackles instinctively rose. It was interesting, really, for even this self-proclaimed “good vermin” could not rid herself of the inherent impulses of her kind. There was a sense of familiarity here, in the age-old scenario of the wicked dog deliberately encroaching on the territory of a claimed vixen; it was an adversity in which Avron took delight. It amused him: this was personal, and much stranger now.
She spoke first, again, in response. Her voice was ostensibly amiable, yet he was under no illusion. An assassin of his creed could hardly be deceived that easily. She proceeded to repeat her intention to help him – true or not, most likely the latter, who knew or cared – and then she began to lecture him in the same, affable tone. Pretty words, really, far prettier than this traitor foxmaid’s true character could be, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. That little sneer and those bared teeth had been more than enough to grant Avron a glimpse at her darker side, far less concealed than she presumably hoped.
A long wait was not necessary: her tone became quite hostile soon enough. "I'll be happy to help you... as soon as you have reaped a punishment. Shard, what shall it be?"
Ah, finally.
He drew no blade, moved no muscle; instead, he smiled a wider grin, cruel and hostile. “Well, Commanders, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m afraid there’s just one little problem,” he said, recycling the vixen’s own words deliberately. “Or rather, two. The first is that we seem to be somewhat misunderstood, for never did I say that the thief was a seabeast, simply that his reputation was known by a number of prominent seabeasts, and that, I just thought, you should be aware of. And also, as it is, I’m somewhat reluctant to reap any punishment for whatever crime you may choose to accuse me of, believe it or not.”
The final, especially stressed wet T of his speech left his mouth set in a humorless expression, which he did not care to abandon. His pale eyes focused straight on the vixen’s face, with an intensity intended to threaten the mind hidden behind the windows of her eyes. If only she could see right back through the amber glass of his eyes into his twisted mind…
“It is a shame, truly, that it has come to this.” A blatant lie, but he continued with pleasure. “I suspect that now, we are in a state of open hostilities, or am I mistaken? In the case that I am misunderstood with you, let me clarify now.”
His arm moved through the air and he snapped his wrist, and a blade appeared from the thick leather of his glove, held horizontally between his first and second fingers. The black tip pointed directly at the vixen, though at a moderately respectful distance, and yet his eyes were focused on the squirrel.
“Allow me to declare that as of now, I expect the Guardians of Mossflower to stand in total war against myself, and my allies. You may fight for your sense of justice, and I will fight for mine; and let the best of us win, no? You may have tonight to return to your fortress. I hope you are ready, Commanders, for at dawn tomorrow, and for the first time in your command, you will be at war.”
Avron lowered his arm but did not sheath the blade, and bowed his head slightly with a measured step back. He allowed them a last glimpse of his mocking smile before he turned on his heel, and with a faint flutter of his cloak, and with the briskness of purpose, he began to walk away. The dark, welcoming shadow of the cliff loomed near.
Last chance, heroes. Any last words?
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Post by Crystal M. V. Rosepaw on May 4, 2009 15:56:41 GMT -5
ooc; I suppose Shard should get a post in, and as long as he doesn't pull Mr. Evil back, Crystal either closes the thread or they stay here to formulate a plan. I could go for either one, Shard, since it's up to you, but do note that Crystal herself mentioned that she would not be able to go back to the fortress overnight. I suppose Shard could take everyone back and leave her there, since she can take care of herself, so it's totally up to you and Avron.
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