Whiskey, Tango, Foxplot - LP TP

Lutea · 2018-10-06 11:39:03 AM

Please note: the logs compiled here belong to a Halloween TP, and as such it is meant to be creepy, spooky, and disturbing! If you aren't a fan of scary imagery or scenes of death, please do not read. Thanks!

The Drewlyyd?
Ft. Riley, Jinora
Meeting Room:

The mountain had held an eerie quiet as Jinora made her way through the almost empty halls. With so many beasts off and on their way to Mossflower, Sala parrots back every sound with lonely echoes - but at least she is always able to nab a comfy chair by the fire, these days. The doe slips into the Meeting Room with a sigh - her injury means that long-distance treks overland are simply out of the question, but it has resulted, at least, in more responsibility for the doe with her unit and the mountain. Dropping into a seat, the corporal rests her cane against the edge of the table, and waits.

The long benches are perfect to stretch out on. And that is exactly what Riley had been doing. The sound of another beast in the mountain stirs her, her head turning slightly and an ear flicking as she cracks her eyes. "Huzzit?" the runner asks, sitting up and hooking an elbow on the back of the stone carved bench. Riley blinks at Jinora and frowns. "Nnff. M'not on sentry duty fer 'nother two bloomin' hours, eh? If Flagstone 'as gone an' left his post again... ain't my fault." Riley speaks through a yawn.

Riley stirring in the empty room and its silence, made a little creepy by its size, startles the young doe. "Spittin' hells, Riley. If yer ta spend y'days nappin', do it without givin' me a bloody heart attack, wot." The corporal chides, easing back in the bench (that totally isn't a chair like her player meta'd earlier). "Bu'... With you here..." The the idea blooms across her muzzle with a sly grin. "Y'want out of sentry duty? I called Cragley up t'drag his hide on an surveyal - bu' I could use any runner. Feel like a trip up th'beach?" There was a glorious time when Jinora was naught but a weedy teenager, raised mostly in isolation she had never developed the strong hare accent... But seasons of life in the Long Patrol have dragged it out of her in full force. "I'm sure Cragley could deal with y'sentry post."

Riley sits up as she shakes off her light nap. The doe runs her fingers through the mussed fur between her ears and frowns. "Do I wanna," the runner begins thoughtfully, looking down at her lap. "Run down th'bally beach or sit in a room an' kick m'feet up?" The doe hums and scratches at the base of her ear. "Who is m'sentry partner t'night? Clara?" Her ears twitch back. "The young pepper never shuts th'bloody 'ell up." Riley shudders and stands off the bench with her spine popping as she stretches. "Looks like y'got th' best runner in the mountain tah do th' job, marm. S'why they left you in charge, it is!"

"Er, Corporal Jinora?" A nervous voice interuppts. Cragley is a typical runner - a lanky physique, strong legs, and all black fur broken only by a tuft of white on his chest. "Ah, yeh. Cragley. I'll need ya on sentry duty tonight, chap. Deeply sorry, bu' it cannot be avoided, I'm afraid. Well, pip pip you've got some time ta get your exercises out of the way, be off." With a nod, Cragley has disappeared again and Jinora turns a sly smirk on her friend. "I'm in charge of maybe six 'ares - an' yer only th'best 'cause everyone else is bally gone, wot!" She teases, moving to plant a little lovejab on the shorter hare's shoulder. "Well, hop to it, private. Bring a snack." The latter is called over her shoulder as she makes for the door.

Western Shores:

The runner grumped and fussed as she packed a light satchel. It's strapped close to her back, making sure to not be in the way of her running. Riley glances back out of the mountain and huffs as she moves through the winding, sandy path into the proper section of the beach. "Cragley's bloomin' face as I passed him an' Clara," Riley snorfles to herself. "Poor chap is gonna lose 'is ears, he will. She'll talk 'em right off!" After the sight she seems to be in better spirits.

The assignment, true to Jinora's word, is a simple one: move up the beach, check to make sure they aren't being invaded today, and return. Cragley's assignment? Not as easy. "Hoi, 'void her whenever possible. S'gettin' harder these days." The hare huffs, glad to be out of the mountain. "Yer /welcome/." As they trudge through the sand, upshore enough to be slogging through the loose, dry sand rather than the salty, hard-packed stuff. Unfortunately, they need to be able to see the land around them - yes, Jin has done her a /huge/ favor. "Guess we've 'ad reports of monitors gettin' brave. Didn't use to have th'brutes on this side of the sea at all, ugh." INVASIVE SPECIES.

"Ech," Riley snorts, hooking her thumbs into the straps of her pack as she moves through the loose sand. "Ol' taste-tongues ain't know we're low on numbers," she assures, but she keeps her voice down /because/. "I dun' think they're gonna give us guff 'til they do. S'long as they don't go near Halyard an' see we've pulled out our troops, huh? That might let 'em know. But they're too wild even fer that sea-spit town." Riley stills, watching the dunes carefully. Nose twitch. Just some sand bug milling about. Then she continues.

"I dun like it." Jinora admits softly, following Riley's pause-and-check. "Not even th'vermin like the monitors, bu' I worry about th'bloody vermin too." She rubs a paw at her temple. "I worry /a lot/ these days, Riles. Hordes movin', monitors in th'swamps, more'n 'alf our hares out fightin' too far away t'help." The hare shakes her head. "Bu' by badgers an'sweetcream we've faced tighter straits an' th'Patrol is still 'ere." It's obvious that she can't quite latch onto the train her thoughts are trying to take - fleeting concerns and anxiety brewed from insecurity, inaction, and insecurity in inaction. "I'm worse than bally Clara tonight, my apologies. Let's peek round th'dunes."

Riley turns an ear to Jinora as they march, scanning the dunes and the scrub-brush beyond for signs of movement. No ships, no camps... the beach is deserted as far as they can see. She shoots a grin at Jinora before bobbing her head and moving to a valley between two of the larger dunes. She scoots ahead, crouching as they move. "Yuh, well. At least yer prattlin' ain't about whatever buck yeh've decided tah make eyes at this week." Clara's nonstop buck-talk memory earns a shudder from Riley as she pauses along the side crest of the dune.

"Ugh." Jinora's face flexes through several varying degrees of disgust as she follows Riley between the dunes. "Y'know that's th'last thing I'll prattle about, get yer ears out yer bum. Poor Clara, her choices'r even more limited. Like they weren't all bone'eads before." Eye-roll. She pauses, making as if to scan the area, but a paw discretely rubs at her leg in the moment of stillness. "I say another mile then we call it a night." No pirates, no tents, no camps. Nobeast laying low in watch, right? Right.

Riley's sage green eyes squeeze up as she watches the brush and dune plants, but no sign of fresh breakage or ground clearing comes to her attention. "Same an' done. Every beast issa bonehead t'me. I jus' dun' look in the mirror, wot!" She laughs as she turns, clambering back down the slope between the dunes. "One more mile, yes marm!" Riley twists, throwing a sloppy salute at the officer.

Jinora rolls her eyes, trying to swat Riley's paw down from the salute. "Yeah, so I'm jus' stuck starin' down yer bonehead mug /for/ ye." The horror, the horror indeed. The landscape is boring - nothing to really hide behind, no signs of camps or hordes as Riley noted... It makes it all the more surprising when the arrow buries its head in the sand between the two does. Jinora lets out a hiss and immediately dives back, seeking the cover of the dunes. "Ge'down!" She orders, pulling her sabre free - but a voice stays her paw. "What ho! Are those hares?" "Of course they're hares y'daft waste'a water! You can see the ears a mile away!" "But that little one looks more like a rabbit." "What difference does that make, ya lunatic? We aren't out here shootin' at rabbits!" Jinora looks to Riley in confusion. "What is happening?" She mouths silently.

Riley rolls her eyes and is about to make a retort when the arrow slices through their conversation. She doesn't need the order... Riley is ducked down quickly with her pack sliding off her back. She keeps low, fishing her short sword out of the sheath tied to the backpack. "Someone thinks I'm a rabbit," the short doe snorts in a barely audible tone. Her eyes are narrowed and she leans up against the dune. "Sling in the bag," she half-mouths, half whispers as she motions. But Riley? She keeps her paw on her sword and tries to wait the blaggards out.

Sling in the bag? Jinora gives a wordless nod and mimes having it loaded. "HOI! Who goes?" She shouts from around the dune, daring to peek around. "-Coulda killed somebeast y'daft idjit, you think shootin' from th'shadows makes ye-" They're still arguing. "This is why we don't have a boat anymore!" The bickering continues. "Er, we may not be in any danger. Bu' it's hard t'say." Jinora sighs. "HOI!" She repeats again, louder, deeper, angrier. The voices silence. "Put y'weapons down an' come forward with yer paws visible, or the rabbit'll make a pebble feel like a boulder when it comes out th'other side yer skull." She sounds convincing enough.

Riley hefts her sword, glaring a tiny bit at Jinora, before relinquishing her weapon of choice to dive into the bag and grab her sling. She dumps the peddles from their pouch and loads the sling. Her shoulders dig a bit more into the sand behind her but for now she holds her fire, leaning to try and get a sneaky glance of the must-be vermin. "Who wants ah cracked skull, eh? Birds'll have a meager brain-feast tah'night, iffen ya don't stop where yah are!"

"WAIT!" Three or four voices cry out at once. Slowly, from where they hid amongst the tree-line, the shrews slink forward. Three females walk behind an admonished-looking male dragging his bow. "It were an accident, please don't put rocks in our 'eads, missum." He drawls when they are close enough, and drops the bow in the sand. They all keep their eyes downcast. "We thought you were more'a them Drewlyyd." Jinora hangs behind Riley with her sabre still drawn, scowling down at the tiny miscreants.

Riley keeps her sling up until the shrews are searched for other weapons. She stuffs the sling in her pocket and rests her paw back on her sword hilt. "That accident landed right bally close t'my skull," she chides the small creatures. "Always get ah confirmed sight o'whatever beast yer shootin' at, mates. Otherwise that's 'ow friendly fire happens!" Riley's nose wrinkles and she looks up and around. "I don't doubt the bravery o'shrews. Know you lot are tougher'n nails. But... still dangerous out here, eh? Wit' these... Dewylinds?" She glances at Jinora with a half shrug.

"We aren't used t'all this hidin' an' runnin'. We're river beasts, we are!" One of the females pipes up indignantly. "An' it were only Habber's arrow. Ye cin cart /him/ off iffin it pleases th'missues." They all curtsy in almost perfect unison. "It's th'Drewlyyds that's our problem." Another of them, a smaller female, insists. Jinora has confiscated a knife from her and throws it into the sand with a flick of her writs. She shrugs at Riley - never heard of them. "Set our barge aflame an' have been followin' us since we had t'flee ashore - pickin' us off one by one." "Yeah, now /Habbers/ th'only male we got left. We'll 'ave t'find other shrews soon, iffin we're any hopes to be married." Poor Habber.

Riley frowns as they shrews explain... kind of. She takes her paw off her sword and nods carefully. "Sounds like a rough lot it does. Tell me. Yeh got a good lookit these Drewlyyds? Rats? Lizards?" she still says the word oddly. Riley makes sure Jinora is still at attention before reaching down to fish one of the canteens from her pack. She holds it out to the shrews. Night might be coming fast, but the sands are still warm and quick to dehydrate a beast. "Ain't gonna cart no beast off, lessen yah shoot at us again."

"An' we ain't cartin' ye off if ye shoot at us more, either." Jinora grumbles, glaring meaningfully down at the shrews. They just look confused, and she rolls her eyes. "Go on, what's this Drewlyyd lot?" "Oh, they're awful." Habber moans. "Foxes, all of 'em, but they look... Wrong. They don't talk like normal foxes an' they all look like they grew all twisted." The largest of the women pushes Habber aside and falls to her knees to clutch at Riley's tunic. "Please, rabbit. Take us t'the village so we can get our new barge built an' be /safe/." Jinora steps forward on instinct as they reach for Riley, but it isn't violent, so her saber remains at her side. "Wait a tick, y'woulda /passed/ Halyard t'get /here/!" They all go dead silent, and as one, the women all turn to look at Habber. The large female at Riley's paws stands slowly, marches to the male, and snatches the kerchief from his neck. "I am our leader, now." She says, simply.

Riley recoils just a little, her canteen pulled away as she stares down at the shrew clutching at her. The poor hare is horribly confused and she looks to Jinora. Her attention snaps back as she makes the realization only because the superior officer mentions it. "S'right," she grunts and tugs out her sword. "Go on. Tell us wot th' bloody deal with you lot is, huh?" The canteen is tossed back into the bag on the ground and she kicks it behind her.

"/I/ wanted a drink..." Habber moans, and the new leader cuffs him over the ear. "We require an escort back t'Halyard. Th'.... They're out there. Their leader told us they were cursed an' needed to wipe out th'last of our line t'lift it." Jinora shakes her head. "Sounds like a fat load'a mud slidin' down a dry hill." ...What... "Alright, private. Guess we don't have much of a choice. We'll give ye escort." With a sigh, she asides to Riley: "we can stay at th'Tavern tonight. I'll buy ye a drink - still better'n Clara?"

Riley grits her teeth and picks up her bag, her free paw still on her hilt. She shoulders it and nods. "Still better 'n Clara," she reluctantly agrees. "A'right you lot. Yer under the protection o'the Long Patrol, see? So dun' make 'ny funny business or yeh'll have weird, ugly foxes /an'/ an army of hares on yer butts." The sword is drawn as she puts her pack fully on. "Front an' center." The doe waits for them to start down the shore. "What'cha make o'this, Corp? Ne'er 'eard o'any 'twisted foxes' in my life."

"Me neither." Jinora muses, ears perked to the max and saber drawn as she keeps with Riley, a wary eye on their surroundings with intermittent glances to the little gaggle of shrews. "Bu' I'll boil me own ears if it's actually a curse. Maybe... Diseased? Accident? Some scare tactics, I'd wager. Hoi - you there!" One of the females turn around. "Ye ever get close to these foxes?" "No missum! They always came in the dark, they did. Shootin' fiery arrers." Jinora gives a triumphant nod and 'hmph'. "Betcha s'all actin'." "We must make it there before the sun goes down!" The leader reminds them, anxiously. The sun creeps ever westward.

Last edited by Lutea (2018-10-28 06:53:08 PM)

Lutea · 2018-10-06 11:40:58 AM

A Simple Escort Job
Ft. Jinora, Ace, Monty
The Western Shore:

"It's a simple escort job." As acting LT, Jinora is instructing a line of four hares - two fighters, one runner, and one healer. "We make shah nothin' befalls our guest an' we get 'im to th'River. We'll turn right 'round an' rest th'night in Halyard before comin' back. There are reports'a... Well, weird goin'-on's, so keep ya wits about ya an' yer ears high." The doe wears a pack strapped tight around her shoulders, a cane lashed to the side of it, just in case her leg should start acting up on the long stretch... Though what good it will do her in the sand is beyond her. The small procession awaits their honored guest, and while they still have plenty of daylight left to make the journey, her imagination already swims with images of 'haunted foxes'.

Ace is helped out, though he has said he is fine. A hare shrugs and just gets him to the small group, saultes and heads back inside leaving the hedgehog with a slight oversized hooded claok, some supplies for maybe 3-4 days and a quick wish of good luck.

Monty does his best to keep still and keep his attention focused squarely on Jinora as she gives instruction, the young hare trying to keep his composure as best he can. Behind the stoic expression however lies a sense of excitement and enthusiasm within his eyes the likes of which Monty hadn't felt in quite some time. It had been a long time coming, but finally...FINALLY...the buck had been accepted back into the ranks of the Long Patrol, having passed all the tests thrown his way with flying colors. He cannot help but bounce up and down on his footpaws a little, paws at his sides clenching and unclenching as he attempts to surpress a giggle of delight, and he forces away the grin upon his muzzle that had been threatening to break all day. "Yes, MA'AM!" he replies curtly to the command given, giving Jinora a salute as well. He had wanted to retrieve his old uniform, but that had gotten pretty much destroyed, and so he now wears a brand new uniform....which he fiddles with constantly.

"I trust yer feelin' at th'top of yer game, sah?" Jinora questions the hedgehog as he is escorted out. Monty's fidgeting isn't commented upon, but she does spare him a LOOK - the single raised eyebrow speaking volumes more 'look still and angry now, giggledance later' than actually saying it would have. "We'll stick close t'the water, make th'walk a little easier. Ace - y'have everything? Squared away? Let's head out." The little procession of hares, and their one prickly escortee, is off - moving towards the almost indiscernible line of green in the far distance. Of course this is just a simple escort - what could possibly go wrong?

Ace nods "I am fine lass..."He may have a small limp, but seems ok otherwise."A wee walk is..simple, and I can take breaks when needed.My legs be fine"His arm is bandaged though, he still has a cutlass and a dasgger for weapons till he gets better ones which he hopes he won't need at all.

Monty catches the look given by Jinora, and he gives her a sheepish nod, as well as a quietly-mouthed 'sorry...'. Clearing his throat, the hare stands as tall as he possibly can, and goes into 'super serious' mode. "The water, yes! Bally flippin' grand idea, MA'AM!" With that, Monty follows alongside the others at a steady clip as they move, feeling much better physically than he has in a long time. He makes sure to keep his eyes peeled for any unusual activity...he can't help but feel just a tad on edge with the stories that have been floating around as of late.

No, he certainly won't need those weapons. Right? Right. It seems that it truly will be a peaceful march down the beach; just a knot of beasts cradled by the cooling weather and the sun growing heavier and lower in the sky. They are able to walk for hours in peace, stopping occasionally to rest, with hardly a rustle from the dunes... Until there's a scream. It's nearly sunset, but the screech of a gull pierces the stillness of the beach, awash in the dying light of the setting sun. It's late for a gull to be out, let alone hunting, but this one seems to have missed the memo - its movements are erratic and it seems apt to drop out of the sky before its wings flap, flap, flap him back into the sky. The bird looks like a wind-up toy that someone has forgotten to wind all the way, and then dropped down a set of stairs. "Protect mastah Ace!" The lieutenant shouts, drawing her sabre and stepping back to keep her back to the injured hedgehog. "Lackley! Be read on tha' bow!" She orders the other fighter. "We won't let our friend 'ere be accosted by gulls not bloody once, but bloody twice, wot! Keep sharp! Monty, eyes up an' guard our rear!"

Ace frowns.....Gulls...a stupid Gull had to show up didnt it.He lays a paw on his dagger and just stays alert.He is a fighter through and through, even if right now he is a little slow.

Monty quietly trots along, the hare keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of trouble. Hours pass, and the buck seems to be enjoying merely being outside, the fact that he is already back out on a mission so soon after being brought back into the fold seeming to be unbelievable to him. As dusk begins to set, Monty is all ready to make a suggestion as to how to keep themselves entertained. "Being that it seems so bloody peaceful out here, ma'am, might I suggest a song? I..." At this point, almost on cue even, the call of the gull echoes out, and Monty is instantly on the alert. At the command tossed his way, the hare salutes sharply and takes his place at the read of the group, paws up...ready and willing to hit something, and hit it hard.

The gull screams again, not slowing its strange, lopsided approach. As it nears, it's apparent that something is wrong with it - feathers are falling out, its eyes are wide and off-color... But this isn't a beast asking for help. With another screech, the gull dives, snapping and swiping at the group. He knocks the runner hare, Private Lucille, to the sand and his talons rip through the air dangerously close to Ace before he takes to the sky again. "Doesn' seem ta be a music lover, wot!" Jinora jokes through gritted teeth, swiping at nothing as the gull passes again. It turns and comes at them from behind this time, approaching Monty dangerously fast.

Ace narrows his eyes and sidesteps as he is barely missed and shakes his head "Dumb bag of feathers...find some fish for lunch!"

Monty takes the opportunity to hurry over to Lucille to check and see if she is alright as the seagull takes to the air again. The buck crouches beside her, gaze lifting to the air to watch its odd ascent and the strange way it is flying. "Hmm, t's a shame, I was gonna regale 'im with my best version o'th' Seagull Shuffle," he quips back to Jinora, before turning around to find the gull rocketing quickly in his direction. "...oh holy Hellsteeth..." Monty mutters, before he squares himself up in the sand, shoulders and chest facing the seagull as he rears back and aims a couple of jabs at whatever part of the gull reaches him first...

Fish doesn't seem to be on the gull's preferred menu. It soars at Monty, beak wide open - and then careens off course as the buck's fist connects with its chest. The gull briefly collides with the ground, sending up a spray of sand in its haste to gain traction to take off again, snapping at Ace in passing. Lucille manages to stand, nodding to Monty as she raises her sword. "Private Lackley!" Jinora barks, and the gray fighter hare yanks his bow free, notches an arrow, and fires. The bird gives a final screech and crashes to the beach near them, but Lackley stares at it in confusion. "Sah?" He looks to Jinora and points at the arrow that blossoms from the bird's side. "I... Missed." He squints in confusion at the green-fletched arrow. "S'not mah arrow." Darkness is falling in earnest now as the sun disappears beyond the horizon in a flash of brilliant orange and green, and a sinister laugh, soft and taunting, floats from the dunes, seeming to come from all around them and nowhere at all at the same time.

Ace watches as the bird crashes and there is an arrow, he shrugs "Well..tis dead right?"

Monty seems genuinely surprised as his punches actually connect with the charging gull and send it careening off course. Peering down at his fist, a slow grin spreads across his muzzle. Damn that felt good! Catching Lucille's nod towards him, he returns it, glad to see she is unharmed. He takes up his boxing stance once more in preparation as the gull takes off again and reapproaches them...but before he can strike it again, the bird goes down in a heap nearby. Blinking, Monty peers over at Lackley, a grin returning to his muzzle. "Ey, great shot! You..." At that point, Lackley mentions missing, and the laughing begins. The young hare blinks as his eyes search the dunes for signs of, well, ANYthing..."Uh, Jin? I'm really, really hopin' y'learned how t'throw yer laugh an' yer just messin' with us right now..." he deadpans.

The creepy laughter continues, and every hair along the nape of Jinora's neck stands at attention. Private Lucille bleeds from a gash on her arm, and she nods to their attending healer to see to her. "Private." She waves Monty over. "Keep on 'er injured side, I've got a bad feelin' about this..." In the darkness, it is difficult to make out exactly who, or what, lines the dune tops up the beach... But they aren't beasts like any Jinora has seen. Though the creatures are mere silhouettes at this distance and in this light, they appear to be foxes... If foxes came from nightmares. Strange, branch-like protrusions burst from bent backs, fur hangs off of them like it's been sloughed off. "Stripes an' seas." Jinora swears, her eyes wide and blood running cold.

Ace frowns "Ok..not an expert but...those foxes look like someone tries ta kill them or get some fur caots and thn just let them live"

Monty nods, "Righto..." and he immediately shifts his position so that he is guarding Lucille's weak side. He winces momentarily upon glimpsing her injury, though his expression turns to one of relief as the healer begins to tend to her. Turning his attention back towards the dunes once again, the buck's own fur stands on end as the sinister laughter continues to echo around the small group. Monty inches closer to the others, eyes falling upon the shadowy figures surrounding them on the dunes. "Welp..." he mutters, softly..."I s'pose we can confirm that th'shrews aren't quite as out of their gourds as we originally thought..." Not quite sure what to do, Monty resumes his fighting stance, eyes roving around the dunes...he's not quite sure who or what to focus on.

"Youuuuu are lucky, Long Patrol." One of the twisted foxes steps forward. His voice is barely above a whisper, but it has no problem traveling to their ears. "Tonight... Is not your night... To join ussss." The speaker holds a bow, it seems... It was his arrow that brought down the bird. "But... It will come when he wills it so..." Another twisted vulpine slinks to his side atop the dune and raises her paws skyward - the others all copy her motions. They must all drop something in unison, because thick, black smoke surrounds everybeast on the dune, and when it clears, the foxes are gone. "Well." Jinora finally croaks out after what feels like an eternity. "M'glad th'uniforms pants'r so dark, dunno abou' th'rest of ya." The lieutenant clears her throat and straightens up. "Right, er... We... Need t'inspect th'bird an' make sure we aren't bein' followed. Bu' priority is gettin' Ace where 'e needs t'go - less this 'as scared ye off yer journey, sah?" She asks the hedgehog.

Ace blinks as he watches "Ummm....that was..odd..you hares anger someone?"

Monty stands there in his fighting position, absolutely transfixed by the bizarre vulpinelike shadow creatures. It is something about that voice that was very hypnotic, and their movements only seem to add to it. The young hare stares at the dunes where the figures are perched, ear flattening upon his head as the dark smoke engulfs them, and just as soon as they had appeared, the odd creatures were gone. Blinking away the daze finally after a few moments, Monty gives a shake of his head, coughing and waving a paw in front of his face to ward off the remaining wisps of smoke. "Ahem. Ack. Erm. So, er. That just happened..." The buck takes another quick glance at the dunes, before turning his head back to Jinora. "Whatthewhozabloodywhatsit was THAT about??? Did you SEE those things?" He points a paw towards the dunes, jaw dropping for a moment, eyes wide.

"We've 'ad growin' reports of... Strange foxes attackin' beasts on th'shores. Thought they was all hogwash." Jinora answers Ace hesitantly, her grip not loosening on the hilt of her saber. "Lackley, get tha' arrow an' wrap it up - don' touch it. We're gettin' Ace t'the river an' that's tha'. I don't need t'remind ye t'be on guard..." The healer hare has Lucille's arm bandaged, and any sign of the foxes has been erased. If anybeast is curious enough to search the dunes, they'll find that even the pawprints are scrubbed away. Rest assured, they will be looking further into this... But the hedgehog is their mission, now. "Keep yer weapons drawn." They are set to continue down the beach... Sure to be checking over their shoulders every step.

Ace nods as he walks and they get closer to the river " I fer one will be happy to leave the area, you..hares can deal with ...strange foxes with..magic or what ever..have fun with that I need to get home"

Monty takes one last look back over his shoulder at the place on the dunes where the strange foxes had been not a few moments before, blinking as if trying to make the figures appear again... and he shakes his head slowly as he turns to make his way back down the beach with the others. "I suppose that saves us some time in th'library, eh, Jin?" he chuckles, his tone lacking its usual humor. "Good, cuz I don't feel like gettin' bonked on the noggin' by that crazy doe that barged in the other day..." he grins a little. "D'you think anyone's gonna believe us, or just look at us crazy like the shrews?" He jogs a little to catch up with the others.

"They'll 'ave t'believe us." Jinora shrugs. She can't shake the creepy-jitters, and gives her head a firm shake instead. "I guarantee it weren't real." She sounds like she's trying to convince herself. "They kept far 'way, waited 'till dark - s'no way..." She shakes her head again. "Let's..." She is a leader here, she has to act like it. Inhaling deeply and throwing her chest forward, Jinora clears her throat. "We are gettin' Ace safely t'the rivah. Look alive, hares! We're almos' there. We cin deal with haunted foxes and whatsahoodits later."

Ace looks around"Maybe we all just need sleep...things look odd in de moonlight or you hares have one...strange band of..something that hates you...a lot.."He shakes his head, yes lets get to the river, he is getting some more space beween him and the sea coast after that even if he has to sleep when its daylight, he will!

Monty manages to catch up to the group, and he trots alongside Jin, silent for the most part as he mulls over what had just happened. There had to be a rational explanation for it, creatures don't just appear out of nowhere like that. When he finally speaks, he keeps his voice low. "Er, yah. S'no way that's possible, with th'laugh...an' th'smoke...it's just....what...? I...I dunno...mebbe someone heard...about the rumor...and...and is jus' messin' with us. Yeah. That's gotta be it!" With a sigh, he takes a moment to glance over in Lucille's direction. "How's th'arm?" he asks, genuinely concerned, though offering a reassuring smile. Anything to change the subject. "Look alive? I dun think I could look any more aliver than I am right now! Gettin' t'go on missions again, the feelin' is fan-bloody-tastic!" The buck perks up again, trying to push the unpleasant experience of a few moments ago away, for now. "To the river!"

The Hedgehog's statement is, well, an understatement. "M'fine." Lucille smiles shyly. Her expression is twisted in pain at the arm (now done up in a sling), but she keeps her sword drawn in her good paw. She's a runner, sure, but with the fighting spirit of the Patrol. "Thanks f'helpin' me earlier." She adds. Jinora is more silent, mulling over Monty's theories with another shake of her head. "There's an explanation - an' we'll ge' t'the bottom of it. Spooky as th'dark forest, though." The night stretches on, eerie and chilled by the strong ocean breeze. The foxes appearance, and disappearance, weighs heavy as the small group pick their way across the beach. Gradually, the vegetation becomes thicker, dune flowers and sparse shrubbery giving way to grasses and trees as the steady crash of waves against the shore gains the buzzing undertone of the river as they approach.

Ace nods "I fer one am gonna get far from this shore ebfore I allow some sleep"

Monty,noting the pained expression on Lucille's face despite her forging onwards, gives the runner a nod and a nonchalant wave of his paw. "Aww, 'twas nothin'. You woulda done th'same fer me. All us Patrollers gotta stick t'gether y'know! All fer one, and one fer all n'alla that stuff. Speakin' of injuries...." Uh oh. The buck smiles, then as they continue to forge their way across the beach, Monty decides to regale the squad with tales of how he had received each particular injury on his person. Of course, he embellishes a bit here or there, since he has a captive audience... but for the most part he sticks to the truth. As they approach the river, he finally gets to his last injury. "Aaaan' finally, we got m'bloody ear. M'sure ya mighta heard th'whole story, ya? I mean, if not...I could tell ya..." The hare grins hopefully...

"Well, mastah Ace!" Jinora barks, interrupting another one of Monty's harrowing tales. "Seems ye cin get jus' tha'. We've delivered ya safely t'the rivah - gulls an' ghouls aside." There's a small smile as she clears her throat. "Will ye be able t'make it on yer own from 'ere?" Monty's tales will have to wait for the walk back to Halyard - they'll have plenty of time. There is grass beneath their paws as they stand near the river, and in the moonlight, Jinora breathes in the deep, foreign smell of loam and thick vegetation. She's gotten so used to salt and rock, she's all but forgotten what it's like to be in a forest.

Ace nods "I can get me self home lass, not ta worry on that. As fer de note..think tis best I surprise them, who knows maybe I be in time for a feast,one never knows"With tah the heads on up. the river trail.

Monty seems to take the hint that his stories can wait as Jin quickly puts a stop to it..."Aw, was jus' tryin' t'help th' lass feel better," he mutters, but then quickly gets over it as they finally reach their destination. "Careful out there," he replies to Ace before the hedgehog begins to make his way towards his destination. After he his gone, Monty takes a few moments to look around their surroundings, eyes taking everything in. "Dunno how well I'm gonna sleep tonight, Jin..." he half-jokes. "Jus' when I thought I stopped seein' loopy things, we get th'cast of 'Creepy Phantom Brushtail Theater' showin' up and bein' all ghosty an' stuff." The hare thinks for a moment. "That one was a pretty good shot, though...jus' sayin'..." he shrugs with a sheepish grin. "Mebbe if we run into 'em again, they can give ol' Bow-britches over there a lesson in how t'shoot..." Monty winks playfully at Lackley.

Lackley turns a grin on Monty. "Well, 'ow about you start runnin' up th'beach -" he raises his bow and squints theatrically down his hand. "-And we'll see 'ow good my aim is?" Jinora relaxes with Ace finally gone, but the lieutenant still has to maintain order. "Alrigh', bucks, tha's enough. Monty, tell us 'bout yer ear while we double-time it back t'Halyard. I need a stiff drink'r six t'fully process what we've seen. Hop-to, privates! Knees high, on th'trot! First rounds on me t'night!"

Last edited by Lutea (2018-10-06 11:41:40 AM)

Lutea · 2018-10-06 11:42:29 AM

Sentry Duty
Ft. Gregorian, Jinora
Salamandastron: Sentry Tower:

Gregorian might be no good for running or walking for days on patrol but his ability to sit around on sentry duty is just as good as it ever was. It's a shame really because Greg is bored out of his mind staring out the slitted window on to the beach below. He's practically counting down the minutes until the next shift should come over and knows exactly which shadow to keep an eye on outside so he'll know when it's time.

(Jinora may not be on the shift list for sentry duty anymore, but that didn't stop her stupid mouth from promising to cover one of Riley's in exchange for Patrol help. The doe mounts the stairs with growing dread, clinging to the short-sighted optimism that she could, at least, sneak some of her report duties out while nobeast is watching. When she slips into the Sentry room, however, she is pleasantly surprised to see that this wasn't a solo-shift. Though she made some sound coming up the stairs, she still coughs to announce her presence behind Greg as she enters. "Think ye could use some company, eh?" )

Gregorian's ear swivels round to the sound of footsteps several seconds before his head turns to see who it is. He throws out a relaxed salute. Respect for officers is required but he's no enthusiastic recruit snapping to attention "Marm" he greets before his eyes return to the job at hand of watching the sands outside "I thought the first thin' officahs did was make sure they nevah had tah do sentry duty again" he seems relaxed and honestly happy for the company.

There's a curt nod at the salute as the lieutenant enters, but she doesn't seem keen to press rank and formality today. There will be plenty of time for that after she's died of boredom. "Eh, guess I missed th'memo." Jinora smirks, groaning as she drops heavily into the vacant seat. "Owed a favah, as i'twere." She explains, leaning her weight forward onto her knees to better peer through one of the wall slits. "Although, really cannae say tha' paperwork is much more invigoratin'. Any 'ordes on our doorstep today?"

Gregorian ahhs as she explains she owed a favour "One of the most common reasons for sentry duty only behind actually bein' ordahed tah" Years of practice means he already has the perfect spot to lean against the window edge so he can see and still sit comfortably "Eh, three hordes dispatched with a pot of tea, one had tah use a bread roll on, it's been a slow day" Greg jokes before actually answering seriously "Nah. Bit of post and supplies from Halyard. Patrol went out tah check the south beach is stayin' quiet. Nothin' out of the ordinary"

Favors have kept eyes on the beach for decades, and who is she to disrupt a time-honored tradition? "Only three hordes?" Jinora smirks, her muzzle wrinkling. "Guess things've only been gettin' lively a'night these days. Ya 'eard about our little 'haunting' problem?" Her voice is dipped in sarcasm, obviously not believing the whole shambling affair to be truly otherworldly in nature... Still... She can't deny being freaked the heck out.

Gregorian's glance to Jinora, an eyebrow raises and then it's back to watching the beach "I have not heard. Wot is it this time? Ghosts of badgah lords past or rattlin' chains which occasionally forget not tah giggle when they're runnin' away?...Or is it just the good old fashioned scarin' of recruits?" Greg has not heard the news but he already doesn't seem to believe it.

"Well, started wi'some mad shrews sayin' cursed, 'aunted foxes killed their mates. Then some reports started croppin' up in 'Alyard - foxes doin' magic an'lookin' all twisted an'wrong, bodies of those they killed not lookin' right - saw some fer m'self, shuddered me right t'the scut. We were escortin' a hedgepig back t'the River when they surrounded us on th'beach - coulda done us away, appeared an'disappeared outta nowhere, real spooky like." She shrugs. "All parlah tricks an'hogsnot, bu'..." She gives a little shiver. "Spooky as th'dark forest in winter, I'll tell ye tha'."

Gregorian frowns at the story but doesn't look scared. He hasn't seen anything though and if you can't hit it with a hammer he's not convinced it exists "All that suggests tah me is there's a group of foxes playing tricks tah give themselves an advantage. Trouble tah be sure but I doubt anythin' a good bit of steel can't fix"

Jinora nods. "S'what I think." There's a pause as her resolve slips. "Er... Thought. I dinnae believe in magic, an' I believe in magic foxes even less, bu' those blightahs got th'jump on us without even tryin' - an' their tricks were pretty convincin'. Tricks all th'same, but they're smart, spooky bushtails, I'll give 'em tha'." The doe leans forward to squint at the shadow of something far out on a calm sea, some breaching fin in a sea of blue. It's gone as soon as it appears. "They seem t'be usin' somethin' on their weapons tha' eats th'bodies away, makes 'em look all... Green an' patchy. Know of anythin' like tha'?"

Gregorian raises an eyebrow and finally has to take his eyes off the beach to look at Jinora for a long judging moment "Eatin' away bodies?...No offence tah yah marm but which tavern were yah in before this" he smiles slightly but he has been around so he gives it some thought anyway "I know of an acid that was supposed tah strip the coatin' off of metal, don't know that anybeast was evah stupid enough tah stick their paw in it and see wot happened though. Mind that worked slowly if yah left something in it long enough and it nevah turned anythin' green. Some of the healahs know a scary amount of poisons, could ask them"

Jinora laughs. "Wish I 'ad been - though ye cin imagine how long I stayed in th'tavern /after/." She nods slowly with his analysis of the acid, making a mental note. "Worth lookin' into." She agrees, and a sly smirk snakes across her muzzle once again. "It is a /bit/ disturbin' how versed th'healahs are in poisons. Sure, s'right helpful if ye get th'wrong cream in yer cup - but I can't help but wondah if they're all plottin' sometimes. Some'a their tinctures certainly taste like they're tryin' ta poison th'lot of us, t'be sure."

Gregorian snorts and he's back to watching the sands again because who knows when the hordes of deformed face melting foxes might arrive "Tell me about it. Once yah learn all the plants that heals a beast I guess yah need tah know the ones wot'll kill them too. Just as well they're on our side but it's best not tah anger them all the same. Worth askin' them anyway. Beasts dyin' in strange and mysterious ways is probably their remit"

"Guess ye 'ave to 'ave a bit of a pentient fer torture if yer goin t'be a healer." Jinora decides with a breathy chuff of a chuckle. "I'm sure this'll all be figured ou' an' swept away in due time, jus' wish it were anythin' other than... Superstitious villainry, eh? Can already 'ear rumors spreadin'. I swear I saw a recruit wearin' a bloody talisman th'other day." She laughs.

Gregorian chuckles too "The newest ones usually say they do it tah help beasts but after a few years dealin' with patients any that haven't quit might very well be startin' tah feel a little satisfaction from lecturin' the poor sod with the head wound" He snorts again at the antics of the recruits "Of course they are. Recruits will believe anythin'. Yah tell them steal wards off demons and I'll show them a nice mace that'll take a ghosts head off guaranteed" he shakes his head "Yah want tah know wot's really goin' on I'd find the shrews they apparently killed. Let a healah have a look at the dead and see wot state the place is in. I bet my left ear those foxes are no more magical than me"

"Oh aye - I los' track'a th'lashin's an' bitter herbs they subjected me to as a private after we'd all get it in our 'eads t'compete in th'boxin' ring till we were jus' bruises with ears. More power to th'beasts - th'sadists tha' they are." Jinora snorts, rubbing at her temple as if she can still feel that concussive right hook. With another nod of ascension, she kicks back in her seat, teetering it on the back legs and squinting one eye to better peer through the wall slit with all the practiced, lazy confidence of youth. "I'll speak t'maj about escortin' a few'a th'healer types down to Halyard to peek at th'nasty blightas afore they're buried or... Burned. Or exorcised. Maybe I cin borrow a talisman off'a recruit." She snorts.

"It's when yah get tah the point yah know all the healahs by name and yah've learnt which ones tah avoid that yah know yah've spent too much time in there" Greg says with a note of experience. Lose a foot and you'll spend a lot of time with healers "Yah let me know how it goes at Halyard. Creepy or not it'd be good tah know how they're doin' it"

Lutea · 2018-10-06 11:44:03 AM

Is it Death?
Ft. Ironbark, Jinora
The Western Shore:

The sky is awash in the fiery glow of a setting sun; flame-kissed clouds are swept across a pink sky, framed against the shadow of the looming dunes. Nearby, the lights of Halyard begin to twinkle, one by one, to life as the villagers light their torches and streetlamps and welcome the encroaching darkness. Night is falling, and if anybeast believes the rumors these days, they had best be making it inside soon...

Ironbark seems like he rather not be inside, somehow he got away from his captors and is running towards the beach of all places.He is paying no mind to the dark and seems he heard no rumors as he trips once over some broken ale bottle left behind by some drunk rat.He sighs and stands dusting himself off as he looks back and forth, his only weapon a dagger he found.

With the last calls of gulls seeking refuge, the sun blinks out of sight and darkness falls over the beach. The moon remains tucked behind the clouds for now, leaving only the illumination of the village and the twinkle of the Mountain's lights, far downshore. At this time of year, the wind carries the biting suggestion of winter on its breath, and the breeze that rips through the dunes howls a long, mournful, chilling note. It almost sounds like the moon is crying out in pain - but that's just the trick of a superstitious mind, of course. The moon just barely begins to peek out of the cloud cover, and the suggestion of a shadow flits between two dune's crests, so quickly that the unobservant mind could dismiss it as a trick of the shifting light.

Ironbark stops and blinks, a paw on his dagger but decides its a passing cloud or maybe one of those fool gulls flying away, he snorts and has slowed from a run, to a jog, to a sort of walk as he is out of energy to do much than walk.He looks back towards the village and then seeing the mountain lights he slowly heads that way as he bundles his think cloak around himself

The laugh begins as a whisper with the wind, but it slowly builds until it sounds as if it's coming from all around the fleeing squirrel. A dry, raspy cackle that seems to come from the very sand itself - all at once, it stops. There isn't a sign of anybeast - just the memory of the unhinged cackle of... Who?

Ironbark draws his, well the dagger he found anyways, out and quickly looks around "Who's..thar, show ya self."He says calmly and frowns, he knows the voice of the rat and the cat already , then maybe thye have friends here for all he knows."I'm not afraid of foolish vermin pests"

The laugh begins again. "Peeeeeeests?" A voice asks. The darkness is oppressive here, so it isn't until the wind shifts the clouds again and allows a shaft of moonlight to illuminate the dunes that the beast comes into view. The fox, if you can call it a fox, is silhouetted in the silver light - his back is hunched over, crooked shapes jutting from it as if he was infected by some haunting fungus. It looks as if flaps of skin hang loose from his ragged, thin, ghostly form - but in this light and at this distance, it is impossible to tell many more details than that. "Big words... For a little rodent all alone in the moonlight." The shadowy figure hisses. The laughter sounds again, but the fox doesn't open his mouth.

Ironbark tilts his head as he notices, ok so the fox can speak without moving his lips..so what, he keeps an eye on the fox "Ya seem to...of fallen into a pile of garbage thar...pest" He smirks, seems he is not too worried yet as he grips the dagger...yet that is, but he does looks around in case there is more.

Soundlessly, more beasts appear... More foxes - all twisted and distorted in different ways, the fur hanging off them as if they're dead already. "You seem to be.... Lost.... Little rodent... Little..." In the moonlight, the lead fox's teeth glint, illuminating a snarling grin. "...Snack." The foxes line the dune tops, some of them twitching and jittering, some of them as still as death. "What do you run from?" He asks, slowly lifting a paw. As it lifts, a single note of the laughter begins again. It slowly grows louder and louder. "Is it death?"

Ironbark frowns as he sees more foxes and all seem..twisted and he gulps a little as he lifts his dagger"Trust...me..not much of a snack for...you and your friends, just gonna go now"He backs up a little and keeps his eyes on the foxes best he can"None ya..ya bussiness what I running from..."Ok now he is a little nervous but takes a deep breath to calm himself, maybe the light is just playing tricks with his mind it is true he didnt eat much today, a little breakfast and some water a couple times today.

A ripple pulses through the foxes lining the dunes as the leader raises both paws to a navy sky, streaked in silver. "Is it death?" The whispers rattle through them, the question tumbling and scraping over itself a dozen times over as they all raspily breathe it out. "Is it death? Is it death? Is it /death/?" The leader starts to laugh, and it is clear that it is him, this time. "You are not the one He wants tonight... You are not the one death chases." The others continue their whispers of 'is it death?' until the leader lowers his paws. He points one jagged claw at Ironbark. "Not tonight, at least... You are not ours..." Suddenly, clouds of black smoke erupt at the fox's paws. They are engulfed in it, and with the next gust of wind... Are gone. The dunes are smooth and peaceful, as if nothing stood upon them at all, sugar sand dribbling down the sides in lonely silence.

Ironbark blinks, a small whimper as he drops to his knees onto the sand and shivers, the dagger griped so tight in his paws it could cause bliters as his eyes dart around, "Imm..impossoble..they were...thar..."

"Hoi! You there!" The shout comes from downshore as a single, bobbing lantern approaches at a fast lope. "It's been dangerous these parts a'night, wot!" The Mountain accent is thick, and as the light of the lantern grows closer to where Ironbark sits in the sand, it is clear that there are two beasts: two hares of the Long Patrol. The one holding the lantern approaches faster, his head tilted to the side as he stares down at the squirrel. The second, a tall doe in the uniform of a lieutenant is close on his heels. "S'matter with ye? Looks like ye've seen a ghost." Jinora offers a paw down to the squirrel, glancing nervously around the dunes as she does so.

Ironbark whimpers and points the dagger at them.."No...leave...you were foxes a morment go...heeeee...ya were and...or maybe they are still..."He whimpers and shivers laying on the sands now keeping a death grip on the dagger"Dangerous....your friend is..is silly..or is he death....your death arent ya?"

"Ah, jeez..." The runner buck winces, taking an uncomfortable step backwards at the sight of the terrified squirrel. However, Jinora's eyes go wide. "He's seen 'em..." Spinning around, the hare keeps a paw on her saber as she scans the dark dunes - but there are no foxes in sight and no haunting laughter within earshot... Swallowing, the lieutenant takes a knee near Ironbark, careful to keep back enough in case he starts swinging that dagger. "Ye've seen th'foxes, haven't ye mate?" She asks, her voice a nervous whisper.

Ironbark whimpers.."Foxes?...Ghosts...think no fur..."He looks ready to stab the hare with her "R..Run..lass...I will..help us both, the foxes sent him.."Hee points to the hare ,"Its..death he is making himself look ..like..like a hare...we..gonna run..run..RUN AWAY!!" He suddenly throws the dagger but his aim is likely bad as he is shaking like a leaf in a wind storm!

"Ack!" Jinora leaps backwards at the crazed squirrel's flailing attack, but she feels the tell-tale sting of a lucky shot skimming her elbow. With a hiss, she claps a paw over the shallow wound and scrambles back. "Now, ye've got about ten second t'calm down afore I knock ye upside th'head!" The fighter threatens, leaving her saber at her hip but raising her fists. "Private Furthrite, signal th'sentry t'send a healer." The other hare gives a curt "Yessir!" and pulls a cloth from his belt. He covers and uncovers the lantern in a pattern... In the distance, the light in the sentry tower flickers similarly. "Calm yerself, mate, we'll find ye a healer in Halyard an' ye cin tell us all about it..." Her fists are still raised.

Ironbark whimpers and starts to stand onto to stumble backwards and shivers "No..No..your taking to the foxes..the foxes with no fur or soon no fur and they will make us have no fur or..or wear ours....they were here and then wasn't in secounds...black smoke from...mouth...or...maybethier fur is mad of..smoke"

"Certainly sounds like he's seen 'em..." Furthrite mutters, shifting uncomfortably. The buck is looking all around them, swallowing as his throat goes dry with fear. "Listen, m'bucko." Jinora is trying for a placating tone, but her paws are still raised defensively and blood runs down her arm from the thin slice of the knife. Little maroon droplets bloom in the sand. "He's gone bloomin' mad with fright!" The buck mutters. It'll take almost two hours for their backup to make the run down the beach. "Last time I ask ye nice like afore I clock ye'noggin' an' quiet ye down th'good ol' fashioned way, matey!" The doe warns. "We're tryin' t'help ye, blast it!" She doesn't want to be out here and exposed on the beach any longer than they have to be.

Ironbark whimpers as he looks at the hares and curls up in fear and shivers more muttering about the hares are really the foxes and they are gonna eat him and then somehow eat him again later.

"Yer makin' this bloody difficult." Jinora sighs, but she isn't willing to wait around on the beach any longer. Those spooks could be anywhere, and she doesn't fancy another encounter either. "Furthrite, get 'is dagger. Should be ovah there." She stoops, hesitantly, over the squirrel and then reaches a paw out. She aims to scoop up Ironbark by one arm and stand him up so that she can support his weight on the way back to Halyard... Of course, this relies entirely on the terrified creature's cooperation. "Up ye go, y'poor, blitherin' blightah."

Ironbark tenses up and screams as if he is dying, its an insane scream and loud too, he takes a coupel deep breaths and whimpers and screams again and kicks to get loose and hyperventalates till he passes out at suddenly being pulled up to satnd and then sluumps over, out cold for now....maybe thats a good thing.

"Well, saves me th'trouble'a knockin' a few more rocks loose in 'is skull." Jinora sighs with a grunt as the squirrel's deadweight sags against her. "Upsie daisie!" The fighter is impressively muscled and tall, Ironbark's weight isn't a bother, but it will be a tiring march to Halyard carrying the poor, unconscious squirrel. "Bet m'whiskers somebeast we don' want t'hear that scream 'eard tha' scream, though... Best make double time, wot! Move out!" The Private, the Lieutenant and poor, limp Ironbark in her arms cut an interesting trio as they slog back towards the lights of Halyard, nervously checking over their shoulders with every step. The beach has eyes, these nights...

Ironbark just stays passed out and likely wont wake till he is in the infirm, and likely may be wise to die him down a couple days maybe, till he at least calms enough to know the healers are..somewhat trustworthy at least.

Lutea · 2018-10-06 11:45:12 AM

A Helpful Stranger
Ft. Saja, Dominik, Jinora
Halyard Tavern: Saloon:

It's late, and the Saloon portion of the Tavern is only sparsely populated. An old, retired hare in the corner fast asleep. A pair of squirrel twins drunkenly swinging about on the dance floor. The bartender, a sleepy looking mouse lass. %r%r And finally occupying one of the couches is the berobed form of Saja the fox. He's somewhat dressed down today, wearing a light grey robe and sandals. Lounged out with his tail flicking off the side of the couch, he's stolen a side table to lay a large tankard on along with a candle for extra light. A book is in his hands, the title barely visible if one looks. 'A Traveler's Guide to Medicine'. The fox occasionally looks up, eyeing the others with a bored expression.

Into the doorway of the saloon peeks the head of a large hare, his size causing him to have to duck a little to look inside. Having returned the previous day, Dom had spent the evening throwing back drinks and reminiscing with Riley about the time they spent in the 67th, and needless to say he is still a tad loopy. Satisfied that there is no one in the room wanting to pick a fight, (something about being as large and intimidating as he is just seems to draw bar patrons to want to challenge him), he ducks into the room. It seems that the usual clamor and din of the tavern had begun to wear thin on the buck, and a smile touches his muzzle as he steps into the saloon. Searching out a place to sit, Dominik decides upon a nearby couch, and he lowers himself onto it with a grunt. "Ooof." Blinking, he peers around for a moment, enjoying the relative quiet of the room.

Another slips in from the Main Tavern: a tall, muscular-looking doe in a plain, red tunic and brown belt, her saber perfectly visible. Jinora, as is her custom, has a room and, as is also her custom, couldn't sleep a wink. So, she drinks. "This is jus' bloody depressing." The doe mutters to herself, paused on the threshold of the saloon portion of the Tavern. She just isn't feeling the big crowd tonight, but the lackluster clientele doesn't offer much of a break from the stifling silence of the night... But it's better than being in a crowded room and it's better than being alone, so she angles to the bar. "Gimme a tankahd'a th'pirate's drink, marm." She mutters to the mouse and rolls a coin across the counter. She pauses after her order to turn and survey the place again - squirrels, check, studious fox, check, Dominik - oh, hey, it's that guy. A little finger waggle is offered.

As Jinora orders her drink, the mouse at the bar is quick to serve up a tankard of the tavern's finest rotgutt. Seems the mouse is taking the LP hare's words rather literally. It even /smells/ like it came directly off of some vermin pirate's ship. Meanwhile, both the tall buck and hare catch Saja's eye as they enter. He looks them over, gaze lacking any kind of hostility that the more rowdy or drunken sorts of vermin might have. His expression overall is mostly of detached curiousity, and that same vague amusement. His book closes, and he shifts on the couch after replacing the bookmark. "I would be careful, drinking that. I once saw a sea rat throw himself overboard screaming and tearing at his eyes from drinking grog gone bad." Cheery, this fox. The mouse doesn't look pleased at Saja's insinuations.

Dominik,despite lacking the uniform of the mountain hares, is still an obvious member of the Patrol judging by his attire...which is still a Patrol uniform, albeit with a few differences due to the location he'd been in. It is also not in the best of shape due to his travels, but he figured he would address the issue at a later date. As Jinora enters, the buck watches her quietly as she heads to the bar and orders a drink, and as she acknowledges his presence he smiles and lifts a hefty paw in a return, the hare recognizing her from the previous evening. "Is quiet," he rumbles pleasantly, "Is good. No catervaul, no fights. Time to think." The fox is eyed briefly as he speaks.

It takes a full tankard for Jinora to regain the ability to socialize beyond hand gestures and noncommital grunts, guys, give her a minute. Dominik earns an 'mhm' and as Saja speaks, she does, with slow and methodical swallows, throw back her rotgutt with the skill of a doe raised in the military... Them hares can drink; she learned from the best. She sets the empty tankard down and taps the bar to get the mousemaid's attention. "Since when is time t'think a good thing?" She snorts. "Anothah f'me, and whatever that'un is guzzlin'." She orders with a nod to the fox, rolling two more coins to her. "Interestin' read?" She motions to the book. There's been more talk of and for the healers of the Mountain today than she would have hoped; it seems that Saja's choice of literature was plucked from the fates.

(Dominik gets a nod as he goes on about the lack of violence and noise. Like a proper fox, it seems he feels the need to insert himself into the conversation. His whiskers wiggle a bit. Jinora chimes in. The fox chuckles. Drinks come fast, first for Dominik (a large tankard of something sweet), then for Jinora (some sort of dark beer), and a refill for Saja. "Thinking is how we master ourselves. A beast that doesn't think is doomed to stagnate, or worse, only ponder their vices rather than their actions. That's how hordes come into being." A pause. He shrugs to Jinora. "I've read better. Unfortunately Halyard is light on literature, this reads like a dibbun's bed time story rather than serious medicine." Smirk. "I don't suppose the great hares of the Mountain have better?" Sarcasm runs thick in his voice. )

Dominik peers down at the drink he is given, eyeing it for a moment before the hare grins and downs the whole thing in one go. "Is not bad," he replies with a shrug. The odd fox's words cause Dom's ears to perk in his direction, and he nods in agreement. "Is true, must find balance between thinking and doing, yes?" he offers, "Is unfortunate, not all can do such thing. All has to do is look out there," he motions towards the tavern, "Plenty of examples..."

Oh great, we have a philosopher! Phil...Foxopher? No, no, Jinora. Not tonight. "Nah, we're too busy ponderin' our vices tah ge' much readin' done." The doe smirks, slipping a paw around her beer with a satisfied hum. She feels far too sober to get too much thinking done, or is doing far too much thinking to get drinking done? Youth is hard. "Guess balance is the bloody key then, innit? Blightah spends all day thinkin' while th'dumber beasts 'do' - nice way t'stagnate an' sip ya tea while th'world falls tah th'rest of us sad sods." She gives a little chuckle over the lip of her tankard, dipping her muzzle in. A long draught finds a comfortable warmth blooming in her belly, and the doe's smile becomes more natural. "Lieutenant Jinora Shyluck Windbell Tottheim, atcha sahvice." She dangles a paw lazily towards the fox.

The resident foxopher hardly seems put out by the two hares in the room. In fact, he seems downright pleased. He ponders Dominik's words a moment. "Well, the world /would/ be boring if we were all paragons of virtue and philosophy all the time. That is how you get your average Abbeybeast or librarian. Nature bless the both of them." His good eye sparkles a bit. He chuckles once more, standing as a lazy paw is offered his way. "I should have pinned you for the sort, then. Yes, it's proper that the brave servants of Badger Lords act. As long as you have a plan, of course." Then he'll try to take that paw, dip to a knee, and kiss the top formally. "A pleasure all my own, Lieutenant. Saja Hawkeye, mercenary, healer, and disreputable rogue. Charmed, both of you."

"Mus' be a special corner'a th'Dark Forest fer Abbey Librarians, then. A colorless room, no windows, eternity spent readin' abou' th'accomplishments'a other beasts." She snorts. Halyard has always been a bizarre place... While the vermin and woodlanders that call it home would hardly be considered 'friendly', they aren't (always) openly engaging in hostility. It's a tenuous peace. Jinora laughs as the introductions are made. "Charmed, m'sure, sah. Healah y'say? Alright, alright, off th'floor with ye, m'not nearly enough'a lady-marm f'tha' codswollopry." She leans against the bar and motions at the 'tender. "'Notha round f'me an' m'friend 'ere." When did she finish her second tankard? Patrol livers are the real heros here.

Saja makes a slight sweeping gesture with a paw in the air. "May their quills never run dry, and their eyes never turn myopic." Offers the fox like a prayer, with all the sincerity of a serial liar. When Jinora protests the treatment, he can't help but tease even as he finds his place back at the couch. The loungey fox lounges now with even more beer. He can't /quite/ down it like the large hare can, but a challenge is a challenge. "Wearing your occupation like a mantle, then? A shame, a bit of trimming, a brush, the right dress, a little voice work...you could play the part of a Baroness and have every buck from here to Ruingate groveling at your footpaws!" Comes the fox mercilessly. He raises his cup in a toast. "To mistakes enjoyed, and the wisdom that comes after." Cup down, he grows serious. "Lieutenant. I've heard awful rumors as of late. Something about a curse and hauntings. Normally I would pass it all off as superstitious searat talk. But I've heard it from beasts I know to be reliable. Is there any truth to them?"

With a laugh, Jinora raises her glass. "May their pillow be full'a down an' their joints prophetic ta rain." Her own sincerity is more obviously mocked, and his jab at her femininity earns a head thrown back in laughter. "Hah! That'll be th'day, eh? I've plenty'a bucks grovelin' at me footpaws already, bu' I prefer it when th'lads'r beggin' fer mercy. Keeps me young." She snorts incredulously, but her expression falters to one of deeper concern that she can't quite hide behind a quip and a sip of ale. "Er... Wish I could disprove'em, bu' I've seen th'blightahs meself. Wouldn't say they're haunted - jus' 'aven't figured out th'parlor tricks yet, y'know how tis... Still... Crops'a murdahs wi'ghastly circumstances ain't a small mattah." She pauses, thoughtfully. "Yer a healah... Mind if I pick y'brain?"

One hand goes to the fox's chest in faux shock. "Ahhh, the way to a buck's heart is through his ribcage and the paw that put him to the ground! I'll have to keep up my guard then, I should hate to suffer a tragedy such as that. So fierce." Saja just...almos looks through Jinora for a moment. A hint of melancholy enters his voice, and it's only when the topic of the strange foxes swings in earnestly does he shake himself awake from his own head. "By all means. I have a few running theories, but I'm afraid to give voice to them. Describe them to me, with as much detail as you can remember. Especially the eyes, skin, and fur. I'm fond of Halyard, and not being cursed. It is in my best interests to help you and the Patrol." By now he's gotten up again, and takes a seat beside Jinora. A little fumbling, and he has a journal, a quill, and inkpot.

The fighter doe laughs, not keen enough on her cues to catch up the little lapse of mirth. She is, however, still rattled by the business with the foxes and sighs. "I'll need a refill firs'." She grumbles, raising a claw to the 'tender to signify just that. Once her drink is filled to her satisfaction and the Tavern set to swaying no matter how still she sits, the doe leans to rest her back and elbows against the counter, turned out towards the Saloon at large. "Well." She begins, her muzzle wrinkling. "Ain't never got a good look - seems t'be th'concensus. They got this laugh that sounds like it's everywhere a'once, then dozens of 'em appear outta nowhere. They look like th'fur is hangin' off 'em in bits an' they're bones are all twisted an' wrong with stuff.. Growin' outta 'em? Like branches." She sips at her drink. "Bu' th'bodies are th'worst. All tinged green wi' th'flesh fallin' away in a way it ought not. Bu' th'foxes tend t'keep a distance, lest they're makin' ye into another corpse, seems."

As the doe speaks, Saja becomes more and more grim as he slowly gets the picture. After some swift shorthand in neat letters, he starts on a very rough sketch of what Jinora is describing. It takes him a minute to finish. Even the seasoned healer and mercenary looks a little green from it, and so he too comforts himself with a pull that's definitely more than a fox like him should be downing at once. Cough. "Mmm. I have two possibilities. First, likely a combination of a deformed birth and some sort of disease. Severe mange or scurvy can make a beast look and smell like they're rotting. Add in a frothing disease or something like it, wounds gone untreated for too long, a beast can lose their mind. You're likely dealing with madbeasts." It seems this is his primary theory. "/Or/...you have a pack of beasts wearing elaborate costumes and good acting skills. Throwing one's voice isn't too difficult to learn. Add in a touch of fear and an agenda, and you have a nice way of making even the Long Patrol's stout hearts tremble, leaving the pack free to murder and thieve." Points out the fox. He stands up. "I'll be in town, I have a few odd jobs here and there. But you'll find me here during the evenings. Get me a body, Lieutenant Jinora, or take me hunting with you. Then we can find answers." A piece of parchment with his room number is slid to the hare, along with enough coin for more drinks. "We'll share wine and a mystery. Enjoy the rest of your evening." And then, the todd is off with a smooth, easy gait.

Lutea · 2018-10-15 06:58:21 PM

Something Evil
Ft. Jinora, Skylark, Dominik
Halyard Village: South Road:

Some nights chill a beast to the very bone; the way the wind drags through loose shingles with a dry, pained wheeze, the way even the moon hides behind the clouds, and the unearthly quiet of a busy street, deserted without reason. The Southern Road is drenched in the darkness of an absent moon and anybeast bustling about after hours seems to have business elsewhere - the street is deserted and eerie. The oil lamps burning sporadically by the street side are unlit, except for one at the far end, far opposite the Square.

Maybe not completely deserted. The houses here are squat and lacking the charm of the better parts of the town. The dusty apartment on the second floor of a building looking like it'll give up the ghost in a decent storm is no exception. The door, mostly green-grey wood and lattice of rusted iron that has been worn over countless years, swings open to allow a blonde, fairly decent looking doe out. The door slaps behind her with the mushy sound of bad wood and the out-of-place, buttery yellow hare bounces down the rickety steps towards the street. She is wrapped up in a green shawl, the neck of her sporting a hood that bunches around her shoulders. "Damn 'lighter," Skylark huffs as she glances up at the unlit lamp near her house.

The disturbance of the hare's door sounds louder than it should in the oppressive silence of an otherwise busy village. Distantly, the bustle of the rest of Halyard can be heard, but it's like the whisper of activity on a ship heard from a lonely lighthouse. A strong burst of wind rolls down the street, causing the one light to waver minutely within its glass casing, and a pawful of leaves swirl around the lone doe's ankles before their dried, fallen corpses still at her feet. Without the lights, the glint of the thieve's knife is muted; the stoat crouches in the alleyway between Skylark's home and the next building, and as she steps fully into view, he leaps forward, weapon trained on her. "Don't make a sound an' ya git t'keep yer pretty gizzard." He warns.

Skylark jolts, but... she /does/ live here and she isn't nearly as spooked as she could be. The doe chokes down the noise of surprise and steps back half a step. Her eyes glance down at the knife and her lip curls distastefully over her buck teeth. "Bet you don't even know what a gizzard is," Skylark grunts, balling her fists. "Or a brain, for that matter. Don't you know this is the poor side of town, huh?"

"I knows what a gizzard is!" The stout snarls, jabbing his knife forward. "An' a brain! Yer abou' t'know what both /looks/ like if y'don't cough up what ye got!" Without further warning, the stout charges at Skylark, knife first, but his gaze flickers to another alley as he does. "Wha' in-" He halts in his advance, staggering several steps to the side, his eyes still fixed wide-eyed on the alley... And then he goes still. The vermin's arms drop to his sides, his fingers go lax around his knife and it clatters to the ground. Almost bonelessly, the stoat turns to slowly look at Skylark... His eyes appear misted over, the pupils dilated as they can be, his muzzle hanging open uselessly. "Not... Thissssssss......" He moans with a jerk of his neck. "Nooooooot....."

Skylark frantically goes for the knife under the lip of her shawl, contained to a pocket in her skirt. She likely isn't going to grab it in time and makes a mental note to keep it in a better place in the next life. When he halts Skylark can only sort of... blink. "Huh?" the doe asks, flicking her ears uncertainly. She's just as frozen as the stoat turns to stare... her paw finally pulling the small knife out and jerking it away from her pocket. It cuts a slice in the corner of her pocket as it comes free. "What in the worlds beyond..." Skylark asks in a choked voice. She scrambles back, looking around. "Somebeast help! We need help!" Yes, come help her and her favorite mugger.

"No... Help... No.... /Hope/." The mugger chuckles, taking heavy, solid steps towards Skylark. Behind her there isn't far to go before she will find her back pressed against a wall behind her. "None!" His chuckle has become a deeply unhinged, maniacal laugh as he continues to take those slouching, heavy steps. Even when the doe has no where left to turn or run, he steps forward - even when the tip of her knife is there, he steps forward. It is only when he gurgles on the blood in his throat where he's impaled herself on her weapon that he stops and lets out a wet, final, cackle before slumping to his knees at her feet.

"Ah gods," Skylark mumbles in a dazed, terrified voice. "Gods, /gods/..." she repeats this as the beast kills himself on her outturned weapon. She attempts to pull it away, but he's caught and he slides further into it. She's shaking. Hard. Her ears quiver, their forms looking fuzzy from the movement from the far, dim light of the oil lamps down the street. Skylark's back is pressed up against the wall behind her, blood gushing down her lower half and dripping down her knees before she can bring herself to shove the stoat away from her. The dead creature bends back creepily, her knife still in him. "HELP!" Skylark demands in a strained, nearly cracked voice.

Not too far away from where the curious scene is taking place in the alley, and Dominik, the newly christened Private of the LP mountain hares, is taking what amounts to him as a casual stroll down the quiet streets of the village. A lot has happened in a relatively short period of time, and the massive buck seemingly had decided to take a solo patrol despite the advice to avoid that as much as possible with the current goings-on. Humming a tune quietly to himself, he turns down a street and begins making his way down towards the alley where Skylark is currently trapped. Large ears perking at the cry for help, Dom goes into all business mode, eyes narrowing as he quickly lopes in the direction of the alley. The large buck skids to a stop at the alley entranceway, and he blinks as he takes in the very odd scene before him.

'Advice' in military terms tends to translate to 'military orders' - but there doesn't seem to be an officer about to chastise the Private's initiative. Instead, there is a terrified doe, a corpse, still hot and twitching, and the whisper of laughter from the alleyway opposite the pair. The single lamp still lit, at the far end of the street, is abruptly snuffed out, which leaves the street only the light offered by what slivers of the moon are visible beyond the cloud cover, casting everything in long shadows. "He was blessed...." The voice whispers. "To live a slave to his greed, but die a sacrifice... We have all been blessssssed..." The voice comes from the alley, but as the moon peeks further out from the cloud cover to illuminate the scene, the alley stands empty.

Skylark's chest rises and falls dramatically. Her shawl, vest, and shirt are soaked in stoat blood and she can barely turn her attention away as Dominik arrives having heard her call. The flicker of light casts odd shadows on her horrified face. "W-what?" the doe asks, eyes wide as she looks over to Dominik. "Who...what are you talking back?" Skylark presses back against the wall at her back, mistaking the whispering for the buck that has arrived.

Dominik had always been a tad on the superstitious side, even as a leveret...back in his home, stories and legends were constantly bandied about amongst the elders of the town, and thusly taught to the younger members. Upon arriving at the mountain and hearing stories about what has occurred, the buck had almost instantly believed what he had heard without question. As he stands there in the growing moonlight of the alleyway entrance and stares at the bizarre scene before him, the whispers seem to creep into his brain, and he looks around with wide eyes for the source; the buck blinks, shaking his head to clear it, and a paw automatically goes to the handle of the sword jutting over his shoulder. In quick strides, he makes his way closer towards Skylark and the would-be thief, a frightening sight for those unaware of who he is..."Show yourself!" his voice booms, echoing in the alleyway. "Is knowing you are here...!"

The street is, again, deserted. Perhaps it is just a trick of the night and the wind, but it seems lighter again, the sounds of the village seem louder, and nobeast answers Dominik's call from the shadows. "Boil m'whiskahs, wha' in hellsteeth happened 'ere?" The answer, instead, comes from the street itself as Jinora enters from the Square. She's dressed in plainclothes, a burlap sack hangs from one paw, but her saber is drawn in the other - she, too, heard the calls for help. "Marm, are ye alrigh'? Are ye injured? Private, explain!" She barks out, not on duty, but lapsing into it fluidly.

Skylark makes a gurgling, whimpering noise. Her eyes fall back onto the stoat as if maybe he's whispering. Dominik's shout causes her to cringe with residual fear. Her ears train on Jinora, she looks up, her frown twisted and the doe looking fairly close to tears. "He went nuts," Skylark explains in a shakey voice. "He was attacking me... an' an'..." She's pinned to the wall, seemingly terrified to move with the dead marten so close. "Blast me," the doe sobs, shoving a paw to scrub at an eye. Her voice edges on something closer to anger now. "Just... went nuts. Flew into my blade before I could even move. Killed himself" Her voice hiccups. "Something is still around. Something evil." Her blue eyes find the two Long Patrol hares as she says it.

Dominik hadn't actually gotten to the point of drawing his sword yet, the familiar sound of Jinora's voice causing him to pause before he was able to do so, and he turns back towards the alley entrance. The buck's expression is sheepish yet spooked, just what he had seen in his brief time there enough to freak him out. And that is something not easily done. The large hare looks from Skylark to Jinora, then back again, his voice low. "Cannot have explanation when not sure what is happened..." He stares down at the dead stoat, eyes moving back to Skylark. "Heard shout, came to check. Saw her, saw dead toat." He pokes at the corpse with the tip of his boot. "Heard whispers. You show up. Is all I know." At Skylark's words, the buck's expression turns somber, and he knowingly nods his head in agreement. "Is evil. Something in air, not feeling right." Dom extends a paw towards Skylark apologetically. "Is miss hurt? Apologies, not arriving sooner."

The hare's testimony chills Jinora straight through - are they /in/ Halyard now? Blazes! The doe steps forward with her ears flicked back flat against her head, looking back and forth with steady vigilance - she's rattled. "Marm, yer okay." She sheathes her weapon, trusting the danger gone, and leans past Dominik to roughly shove the dead vermin away from Skylark to allow her more room. "There's been some... Stirrin's, as of late. We recommend ye avoid walkin' alone at night." Yeah, no duh. With this, the Officer turns a /very/ pointed look upon Dominik before softening her expression and returning it to Skylark. She nods once before she sets to circling the perimeter - as usual, there are no signs left behind, no footprints, no sign that anybeast else was ever there. "Why don't we, ah, go somewhere else t'talk." She clears her throat, returning to Dominik and Skylark. "If y'wanted t'... Clean up, a bit." She nods to her bloodstained clothes apologetically.

"I'm not hurt," Skylark heaves out as she slips away from the stoat. She raises a paw up, grabbing onto one of the rickety fence posts close to the street to steady herself. "Chains o' the damned... I can't..." She has to suck in air. "Clean up, yes. Gods. I was on my way to work. The Tavern. I have clothes there. We should leave." Her voice is choked and she doesn't dare go back for her knife and she's still shaking pretty badly.

Dominik is obviously rattled, himself, his ears flattening upon his head as Jinora gives him 'the look'. It was something his mother had given him many times, and so he is quite understanding of its meaning. Averting his gaze for a moment, he mutters a soft apology. "Is sorry. Is knowing not supposed to be alone. Vanted to patrol, vanted to check things." At the suggestion to go elsewhere, Dom quickly nods his head, his anxiety quite obvious. "Yes. Is good, is go somevhere else, yes." The buck glances back over his shoulder into the darkness of the street, a frown crossing his scarred muzzle, before he turns back to the other two. "Let us go..."

"Th'Tavern it is, then. Private, yer not t'be on a Patrol after dark by yourself. End of story. You're relieved of duty f'the rest of th'night. Report t'the kitchens in th'morning fer dishes." But she's happy to leave it at that, with a smirk. "At least it means ye cin buy our first round." The Patroller offers an arm out to the frightened doe as they move towards the, in comparison, brightly lit square.

Lutea · 2018-10-16 10:54:22 PM

Nobeast Will End Happy with a Plague Like This
Ft. Saja, Jinora
Halyard Village: Main Street:

To call this shop 'ramshackle' would be generous. It's on the exceedingly vermin end of Halyard that respectable beasts keep far away from at night, tucked between a haberdashery hawking hats that likely have been stolen or looted, and an inn primarily rented out by searats. The roof leans slightly, and the steps up to the door (it has two hinges, instead of three) are uneaven. There's no need for a bell, as opening the door makes a creak that would wake Martin the Warrior himself. A sign has been nailed to the front. 'Apothecary and Medical Obscura.' Below that in much tinier writing, 'No soliciting, burials, or involuntary amputations'. A small piece of parchment nailed to the sign. 'That means you Rottooth'.

The inside is just as spotty. Furniture is probably scavenged or of questionable ownership, the door to the back has four hinges, and the front desk has a female mouse barely of adulthood with thick, bottle-sized spectacles in a plain robe pouring over two different tomes before her. The door to the back is half way open. The shelves of the place have a rather respectable amount of herbs, flowers, medical supplies, and other things in the trade of healing and-or poisoning if one has the knowledge. Some are only legal by technicalities.

A gravelly vulpine voice comes out of the back. "Are you /certain/ all the debts are paid off and we found all of the bodies? I'm not fond of explaining woodlander corpses to the sheriff twice in one evening." The mouse lets out a clearly distressed little squeak. "I...I'm pretty sure!" Gulp. "But most murderers don't write down their victims in their balance sheets!" A huff of smoke from the back door and Saja groans. "Don't you sass me, at least until your contract is up. ...You would be surprised, actually."

The Lieutenant got off Patrol some hours ago, shed her uniform in favor of plainclothes at her room at the Tavern, and in this part of town? She is glad she did. It isn't that Halyard has an open disdain for the Long Patrol, but some beasts do - and they all, more than likely, live here. Plus, what Jinora does in her personal time is none of the Patrol's business, so long as it doesn't infringe upon their codes and honor and image (read as: it's the military, she has no life outside the Patrol); but even one as uptight to the rules as Jin may tiptoe around technicalities for the greater good. It's a tall, cloaked figure that enters the shop, for this reason, though her accent is impossible to misplace. "I 'ave a whole sheet jus' fer murdahs, m'self. Organization is th'key t'true happiness, wot!" Once she is securely inside the building, the doe pulls her hood back. "M'lookin' fer Saja."

As the large, cloaked doe makes her way in, the poor mouse very nearly faints on the spot. She, in fact, gives a barely choked down squeak. Even tries to hide under the table for a second before peeking up with her four eyes. "U...Um. I've never heard of a fox with that name! Everything here is completely..." Comes her high-pitched voice that manages to crack. There's a frustrated foxy yip from the back followed by the sound of paw rubbing face.

"I /swear/ you are worth less than a shelf's worth of herbs, Poppy! Bite your tail, and go start making the Lieutenant tea please." Saja grumbles, stalking out of the back. Poppy gets tweaked on the overly large ear, with an odd combination of utter annoyance and unconscious affection. Said mouse is ungracefully heading to the kitchen, tail-in-mouth literally. Saja rolls his good eye, then has the grace to pull two chairs out to a table. Watch the splinters on the scutt. "Ignore my sl...ahem...indentured servant. She is, as yet, an untrained idiot. A pleasure to see you again. How might I be of service, Lieutenant?" The fox smiles, part smug vermin and part curious what the doe might have for him after their last encounter.

"An' a spot'a sweet in mine, if ye wouldn't mind, marm!" The doe calls after the retreating mouse, muzzle twisting at Saja's... Choice of words. "Indentured servant." She repeats, an eyebrow raising. "Well, I'm sure her wages'r fair an'consistent. I'd 'ate t'see what 'appened othahwise." A threat? That isn't clear. Maybe she truly would just... Hate to see what happened otherwise? It's never clear with her. "'Preciate th'hospitality, bloomin' nice change'a pace when every other searat wants t'brawl a Patrollah in th'bloody Tavern. M'eithah splittin' chairs over 'eads 'r nursin' Privates wi' black eyes an' booboos. Got'a basket'a misplaced eartips jus' gatherin' dust by this point." She shakes her head, her own train of thought escaping her - and rather easily.

"I, ah..." She begins in earnest, finding the seat and settling into it with apparent discomfort. "Well, I 'ave a dead stoat in th'clinic, an' a terrified doe sayin' he was bewitched afore endin' himself on th'end of her daggah. Thought ye'd fancy a peek an' I'd fancy yah insight, as i'twere."

Two bottle-sized glasses peak out, along with a pink nosepad. There's a vague smile. "O..okay!" Comes the squeaky one. Not a minute or two later? She's back out, handling kettle and porcelin cups as if they were made of pure gold. Here, they may as well be. She serves the doe first, earning a pleased nod from Saja. The fox, upon the threat, pauses. One ear flattens, he seems to ponder a second, and then...he laughs. It's not mocking, still smug as many a fox is want to, but that threat seems to have only made the vulpine pleased. "You mountain hares deserve your reputation. Fierce, loyal, just...and ruthless. You're welcome to check the contract. Terms, conditions, signed. I might be a fox, but I am /fair/!"

The fox looks /way/ too proud of himself. He knows the law, but the mercenary is arrogant. A chink in his armor. Saja nods. "Did you expect anything less? The Patrol and vermin of every stripe meet in this town. Better bruises, missing ears, and minor lacerations than swords through the chest. Tavern brawls over hordes and outright warfare. ...Besides, send your hares to me and Poppy. For a discounted fee, we'll have those eartips sewed back on with no awkward questions." Both ears wiggle. Even Poppy's glasses shine with the desire for gold. Servant and master have something in common, it seems.

The fox falls serious as soon as the doe shows her discomfort. Even Poppy looks somewhat less like she's a wreck of a slave, and the pair look at each other. "Color me intrigued, Lieutenant Jinora. Poppy? Get the surgery tools and our reference books. Time for you to learn how to perform a proper autopsy." At least this vaguely amoral vermin is trying to teach his 'servant' something. The duo, after some preparations, are ready to follow Jinora.

"Hah! Good t'hear it." Jinora is either satisfied by the fox's answer or too thick to see through it. "Surprised tha's our reputation aroun' these parts. We're also rathah fond'a cards, though m'self I've taken t'knitting - thank ye, marm." The tea, it seems, is more important than the unsavory business of autopsies and ghost stories (though Jinora makes a mental note that 'Autopsies and Ghost Stories' shall be the name of her traveling musical ensemble, should she ever learn an instrument). She snorts, rather undignified, into her tea at the talk of sewing eartips back on. "An' 'ere I was jus' plannin' on makin' a necklace. I'll be sure t'pass th'word along t'anybeast what needs ta... 'Ear it?" There is a pause. A painful, terrible, pause as her gaze lingers over the lip of her cup, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

Don't give her the satisfaction, fox. Don't you do it.

"Ahem. Anywotsit. Aye, th'body is located at th'clinic at present, jus' down th'way. Aftah th'incident, we escorted th'witness away t'safety, got'er squared away, an'... Well, I sent t'have th'body moved, an'in tha' time it had already started ter... Go wrong." She sighs, straightening, shooting back the rest of her tea (her pride prevents her from showing the pain the hot beverage causes, but if one looks into her eyes they may see her soul, briefly, depart her body), and setting the cup back down. "Afraid -" She coughs. "Tha's th'most technical I cin get wi' th'terminology there, mates. 'Oozey witchcraft' didn' seem anymore propah." She takes a step towards the door. "Shall we?"

Twitch of a fuzzy foxbrow. "I /knew/ that fluffyscutted little Private was card counting! POPPY! CHEAT HARDER NEXT TIME!" Offers Saja in a pique towards the mouse. She at first curls inwards...and then reaches out to tickle the fox's nosepad. He sputters, coughs, and loses his pipe briefly. Her glasses flash. And then she's hauling up her vulpine 'master', only to deposit him into his seat. She shoves in the pipe hard enough he nearly chokes. Smoke out the snoot. The fox looks embarrassed. Poppy laughs, and some of that anxiety lessens. Her eyes shine. "S...so if we agree, do the 'ears and ayes have it?" Oct 17, 2018 at 3:04 a.m.
There is the sound like a fox very nearly choking on his tongue. "Another word out of either of you, and by the seasons I will shove your muzzles into the allspice!" Saja can't help but sob quietly for a second.
He doesn't look much better when Jinora mentions 'oozy witchcraft'. He slams down a hip flask, and Poppy is back with the tools and references, which the pair split between them equitably. "Ladybeasts first." He hip-tail-checks the door open for Poppy and Jinora. With extra footpaw, as the door very nearly tries to fall off it's two hinges to murder him.

Halyard Clinic

Whatever happens between the supposed employee and employer goes over Jinora's head - the Lieutenant shakes her head with a sigh as her paws go to her hood, but there is a wink sent Poppy's way. She gets it. "Ahem. Aye, ah, without furthah adieu."

The clinic itself is almost entirely empty, save for one put-upon hedgehog tending a dilapidated counter. As they enter, Jinora flicks her hood back again and nods towards the back of the clinic. "'Ere t'see 'im again." The hedgehog wrinkles her nose and holds her paws up. "Aye, missus. Ya just go ahead with it, I won't have nothin' to do with that, I won't. Better you than me, eh? Holler if ya need anything." The doe nods and leads the way to the back... It's apparent which body is /the/ body immediately.

The sheet covering the nameless would-be mugger is darkened in spots and blotches, as the body beneath it corrodes and leaks in an unnatural way... Beneath that sheet is, understandably, worse. The stoat's eyes are gone and the rest of him is caving in upon itself at a grossly exaggerated pace, skin giving way where it meets too much resistance to ooze a dark, viscious green out onto the slab he rests upon. "Like I said." Jinora's voice is muffled behind her handpaw. "'pparently he went all... Slack an' loopy, blabberin' on about 'blessins' before 'e walked onto th'poor doe's knife. Scared th'poor lass silly... Should check on 'er, latah - beside th'point. 'Bewitched' she said. 'E acted bewitched."

The fox has slid back into utter professionalism, nodding to the hedgehog on the way as they step into the clinic. Poppy mimics his motion, though seems a little nervous at the prospect of seeing a corpse. She is, still, a greenhorn little mouse stolen from the ruins of a village as compensation by a mercenary vermin fox.

Saja takes one look at the body, his eye widens slightly, and then he's using his taller body to shield his 'slave' from the sight. He stops, she bumps into him, and then he roughly elbows her out of the room before curiousity takes over. "...Tools on the floor. No interruptions, Poppy." Voice as course and rough as ever, there's urgency in it despite. Poppy squeaks sharply, and pads out.

He might even apologize later. Taking up some surgical tools and a 'kerchief over his muzzle, he is ready to start the dissection after hip flask swig the second is taken. "...Well. It's not mange." The fox, mercenary, surgeon, healer, assassin, poisoner and rogue, sounds utterly disturbed already. Thank seasons for liquid courage and sarcasm. He starts cutting. "Certain diseases and poisons can drive beasts mad. Or pain and shock from mortal wounds. This...no body should rot this quickly. This isn't how a corpse leaks." He grows more and more clinical and detached as he carves skillfully. Mostly as to hide the growing horror his medical knowledge is beating him with. Gulp. Twice he has to swallow bile. "...Lieutenant, your doe is traumatized. There are medical reasons for this." He sounds like he's trying to convince himself. "I'm going to write down every symptom and possible disease I've ever seen in a stoat. Get me books from your precious mountain, or either take me prisoner and let me into your library. I don't care if a Badger caves in my skull for the insult."

Smile. He doesn't look happy. "Nobeast will end happy with a plague like this, Jinora."

To be continued...

Lutea · 2018-10-23 05:02:04 PM

Feathers and Foxes
Ft. Quinten, Monty, Jacenta, and Jinora as GM
Western Shores:

The cold blanket of night settled over the Western Shore an hour ago, and a half-moon grins crookedly from a navy sky. The clouds have mostly dissipated, save for the occassional wisp of gray that blocks out some stars, allowing the beach to glow a dull silver in the moonlight. The waves roar hungrily as the low tide chews at the coastline with foamy, silver teeth - but something else pierces the stillness of the evening: a screech, high-pitched and pained. It sounds like a bird, but this late into the evening they would not be out, and the call is a far throw from that of an owl - no, something is amiss on this lonely night, and it is not clear what.

Quinten is out walking with Private Monty for company so he's not out on his own. The older hare has been pensive since he received Zolomon's news and has been taking walks to clear his head. It's a lot to take in so the recorder is strolling along the beach, feet in the surf, he pauses as he hears the sound and his ears swivel toward it as he frowns, "Private did you hear that?"

Monty had taken it upon himself to act as companion and guard for anyone who wished to venture outside, and he had been taking the job quite seriously due to the current uncertainty and mystery surrounding the dunes. The young hare currently accompanies Quinten outside due to the older hare wishing to go for a nightly stroll, and so as they make their way out of the mountain and down the beach, Monty is on high alert and generally a lot more quiet than usual. His eyes remain focused on their surroundings, ear(s) perked and listening intently. As they reach the shoreline, Monty's head whips around at the sound of the screech, and he blinks...."Good, you heard it too, sah, was thinkin' I was outta m'mind for a moment...." His paw goes to the weapon on his belt, and he stares out into the moonlit dunes.

The cry sounds again, a chilling keen that rides the wind like a dagger dragged across a stone. It is easy to miss the bird, at first: the raven is as dark as the night that hides it, a flurry of midnight-black feathers that blot out the stars as it swoops overhead from the dunes. It passes low over Monty and Quinten, screaming again until its claws scrape the sand, wings desperately pounding at the air to regain its altitude... But it can't seem to get very high, only making it about twenty feet back into the air before it begins its careening path downwards once more. It doesn't appear to even notice the hares, but it is clear that its erratic and terrified movements of the large avian pose a danger to the beasts, should their paths intersect at such high speeds.

Quinten fingering the hilt of his dagger the hare watches the raven as it careens along, "Perhaps... we should see why the avian is in such distress?" he shifts on his feed, sand moving under his feet to look back the way it came, "Then retreat to the mountain... something odd is going on out here and it would be best not to face it in the dark."

Monty's nose twitches, catching an unusual scent, and as he turns the raven passes over he and Quinten. Ducking instinctively, Monty quickly draws the dagger from his belt, and he moves to guide Quinten out of the way. He had momentarily forgotten that the older hare was unaware of the danger the bird and the forces behind its unusual behavior could pose. "Heads up!" he shouts as the bewildered raven makes another dive in their general direction. "Sah, I have a pretty good guess...as to why. Perhaps your second idea is the better one!" He does his best to guide Quinten away from where the bird is dropping, though he moves backwards, facing towards the avian just in case.

Jacenta had went out for fresh air, she had to get out of the mountain and just...well go somewhere she wasn't sure where and frankly didnt care at the morment. She also wasn't watching where she was going but did at least slow when she hear the bird and frowned as she glaces around, rubbing her eyes a little.

The raven hits the sand running, leaving great gouges in the soft terrain, and stumbling towards the two hares with another scream. As it nears, its wings spread again and it attempts another takeoff, but it is clear this time that something yanks it down and to the side, towards the dunes. The thick shaft of an arrow protrudes from the beast's side and a long rope trails off it, into the dunes. The soft 'shink' of another projectile hisses angrily through the night, and the bird screeches again in pain before it collapses to the beach - still, but breathing raggedy, uneven breathes... But, Jacenta may be stumbling upon a dire situation, as the great bird has crumpled to the sand atop both Monty and Quinten!

Quinten yells in alarm as he goes down under the raven, if Monty hadn't pulled him back and pushed him toward the mountain he'd probably under the main bulk of the raven. As it is he's knocked flat by a flailing wing leaving him scrambling backwards through the sand and surf to try and get out from under it.

Monty normally would be able to easily avoid the trajectory of the falling bird, however after it is hit with the arrow and yanked to the side, it happens to be pulled right in the direction that the hare is about to run in. "Quinten, head back to the...GAHHH! Oooof!" The raven flumps down to the sand, landing right on top of Monty and pinning him down beneath its feathery bulk. The wind is knocked from his body, and the smaller hare lies facedown beneath it. He quickly lifts his face from the sand so as not to suffocate, but there will likely be some bruised ribs, among other things. He lies there with his cheek resting on the sand, struggling to wriggle out from beneath his dark-feathered burden.

Jacenta blinks as she sees the large bird and stumbles backwards with a gasp. She looks like she rather bolt away from the bird but if someone needs help or are hurt she should go help them, but the large bird, makes her very nervous!

Atop the hares, the raven wheezes weakly... And a long, low laugh seems to fill the air around the Patrollers and the dying bird. "When you fish with bait -" The voice sings in a male baritone, gravelly and cold. "- You may catch more than you know." The laughter sounds once more, and as the hares struggle beneath the raven, a fox tops the dune. The fox is as the others have been: a silhouette of a ragged, crooked beast with a jagged growth protruding from its side. Unlike the past encounters, however, this time the beast approaches! With a jerking, scuttling run, the beast rushes towards the downed bird and hares with shocking speed and leaps to land atop the raven's back, laughing the whole way.
Closer, the fox seems to be... Exactly as they have been described: the fur seems to hang loose from his form like it's been torn to tatters, branches appear to burst from the ruined creature's body, and his eyes... The pupils seem far too large, making them look an inky, soulless black. He laughs again, rattling a head-dress made of black feathers and bones, and flashing a grin full of rotted teeth. "Hares.... Are not what Master desires, tonight." The vulpine hisses, reaching to his belt and drawing a long, jagged, ornate, black-bladed dagger. He looks between Quinten and Monty before his gaze rises to take in Jacenta, as well. "A pity... But witnesses... Ooh, witness to the sacrifice - you are lucky." He points the tip of the dagger at Quinten with a lopsided, black grin. "Unless you desire to... Donate... A willing contribution isssssss never refused."

Quinten draws his dagger and balances it carefully, taking aim at the fox and doesn't bother with banter or witty repartai just throws it at the fox, aiming in the dark isn't the best but damn he's not having this sort of nonsense on the beach! "Jacenta help Monty out from under the bird, quick now lass..."

Monty is currently lying on his stomach in the sand beneath the bird, face turned to the side so he isn't able to get a good look at the bizarre fox who leaps up onto the raven. This action also adds more weight to the predicament, the air being pushed out of his lungs again just as he had begun to get it back. His dagger had been knocked from his grip and rests in the sand not too far from where he is pinned, and he feebly reaches out a paw in an attempt to grab for it. Despite not having the best view of the creature, Monty shivers involuntarily as the eerie fox's voice floats then settles down around him like a dark fog. "Qu...Quinten..." the young hare gasps..."G...get...get back...to th'Mountain..." His footpaws push at the sand beneath him as he continues trying to wriggle out, at the same time trying to turn his head to get a better glimpse of the fox.

Jacenta looks in horror at the fox like creture and there is the large bird, ok which one is worse she isn't sure as he is sort of frozen in place with fear, then she hears Quinten speak and gulps as she edges towards Money and slowly reaches towards him to help him out from under the bird if she can, at the same time keep an eye on that fox creture thing, all at the same time shivering as if its freezeing cold outside all of a sudden!"C..C...Come on....we...move!!!"

The dagger aims true, a credit to Quinten's skill, but the fox offers no reaction; he merely stares at the hare with a slowly widening grin, the hilt of the dagger protruding from his chest, just below the right shoulder. "A generousssss donation indeed, old man!" The fox gleefully giggles before he yanks the dagger loose and drops it to the sand. He begins to bleed immediately, but the crazed beast doesn't seem to care very deeply. "We will come for you, oh yesssssss. We will come!" Still on top of the bird, the fox kneels and, almost tenderly, reaches around the raven's head - and slits its throat. As ruby pours to the sand below the twitching bird, the fox grins at Jacenta, trying to free Monty. "A fine donation indeed." He decides before leaping off of the bird and rushing back towards the dune with that same jerking, unnatural run.

Quinten stares in shock for just a moment then dives forward, he grabs Monty's dagger and bounces up past the bird and hurls the knife at the fleeing foxes back. He probably won't hit in the darkness but.... "On your feet both of you quick now."

Monty is still pinned beneath the raven, though with assistance he manages to wriggle forward a bit more...but once the fox reaches down and slices the bird's throat, the buck is hit with a shower of warm crimson, which drenches him. "NnnnGAAAAAHHHH!!!" Monty blinks, shaking blood from his fur, and certainly not expecting that this is how his evening would be spent. Once the fox hops down and flees back towards the dunes, Monty manages to extricate himself the rest of the way with the others' help, and he lies there in the sand on his back. Ribs aching with a fiery pain, instead of getting up and fleeing however he lies there staring up into the night sky with wild eyes, face painted with the blood of the unfortunate avian. "WOTTHELLJUSHAPPENED??????" he gasps.

Jacenta frowns, any blood barely misses her and she still shivers, oh she has see blood as she is a healer. she gulps and manages a "Is..is anyone else..hurt?" Ok the bird is, well it's dead no saving it as she looks to where the fox went and back to the two hares "We....we need to go inside, we need to..do something...w.wot do we do?"

Another dagger finds its mark, even as the fox jerks away. This time, the weapon buries into the back of the beast's calf, and though he makes not a sound, the last glimpse of the demonic vulpine shows that the injury took effect: he is dragging the leg.
And then he is gone.
The cackling begins anew, joined as if by a hundred different voices all echoing and crashing about each other in the darkness. The raven bleeds and twitches another moment in the sand - and then, all at once, it is jerked away into the dunes with impossible speed and force, apparently dragged off by the roped projectile in the dead beast's side. And the laughter ceases. A trail of blood and feathers left in the bird's wake are the only signs of the attack; the fox has vanished, and the raven's body with it.

Quinten was inclined to go after the fox and capture it but the cackling laughter gives him pause. He looks at Monty and Jacenta and decides neither youngster is in any fit state for action in the dark against cackling madmen. Drawing his sword he motions to Jacenta, "We retreat to the mountain," he takes a deep breath and falls into training recruits mode, "On your feet Privates," he bellows in his best drill sergeant voice, "On your feet and running both of you! Back to the mountain, double time go go go!" He's trying to stave off panic attacks, fainting or any other unhelpful incidents, shout at them until basic training takes over and run them both back to the mountain. At least that's his plan.

Jacenta whimpers and makes a sort of sound, its a sound anyways and she at least starts to run, she tries to not faint, but all the voices and laughs..."S..S...sur..."And she faints, not her fault blaime the fear the foxes caused, she is a healer not a fighter

Monty manages to push himself up to a sitting position, wincing as a wave of pain washes over him from the chest down. Eyes still wide, the young buck begins to push himself backwards, scooting backwards in the sand as he stares wide-eyed in the direction the raven was pulled. "No," he mutters. "NO! Nononononono...." He cuts quite a pathetic figure, ears flat, eyes as wide as plates and full of pain and terror, his face and clothes completely covered in the raven's blood. "NOnononono..." He shakes his head, trying to get up and run in the opposite direction, though his injury won't let him....so he merely moves backwards on his backside as fast as he is able.

Thankfully for those on the beach, they are not far from the Mountain - and somebeast heard the commotion. The sound of footfalls on sand approach rapidly before two more hares come into view, Privates by their uniforms. "Sah!" They bark out in unison, saluting Quinten. "Sentry 'eard a ruckus! We're 'ere to 'elp." The two bucks look, panicked, from their superior to Jacenta, and to Monty. "Need we carry 'em?" One of them asks.

Quinten takes a deep breath and shakes his head, ramming his sword back in its hilt. He looks at both Privates and for a moment seems less then impressed then wipes that expression off his face and turns at the sound of feet. He salutes the Privates, "One of you lads carry Jacenta, the other help Monty to his feet and then all five of us are heading back to tha Mountain doubletime..." he eyes the dunes and glances back toward the mountain, "Quickly now boys, this is no place to hang about."

Monty can only go so far in his current method of travel, and so the newly arrived Patrollers should easily be able to reign him in. As assistance is offered to help him up out of the sand, the buck accepts at first, and once he is on his feet again he begins to swing wildly at the air, trying to push the assistance away. "Gerraway, GERRAWAY!!!!" he shouts, voice hoarse as he turns to run in the opposite direction. He doesn't make it too far however, and sinks down to a knee with a pained gasp, other arm clutching at his bruised ribs. "DOANNEEDHELP!!!!" He breathes heavily, clothes and fur covered in blood and sand.

Jacenta is, well carried as she mutters something and slowly opens her eyes, but just frowns and stays quiet, this has been a bad day so far for her.

"Yes, sah!" Privates Killian and Monchgard echo each other and rush to follow the orders. On closer inspection, a lump rests on both of their chest, beneath the uniform - an outline of the talisman becoming popular amongst the the more superstitious beasts of the mountain. The larger of them, Killian, stoops to lift Jacenta, and the other rushes to Monty, moving to stuff his paws into the other buck's armpits and drag him to his paws. "On ya feet, mate!" He grunts. As Monty rushes into a fit of hysterics, Private Monchgard wheels back, eyes wide and paws raising instinctively to a defensive position. "Then ge' on ya paws an' come with us!" He barks back. "Sah, do I restrain 'im?" He's never been in a situation such as this, and the Private is clearly unsure. Killian got the easier job, and double-times it back towards the Mountain with Jacenta, ahead of the others.

Quinten watches Killian make off with Jacenta and then saunters over toward Monty, he doesn't reach out for the private just brings the hilt of his sword down firmly atop Monty's head with a firm whap, "There, sling him over your shoulder and carry him back Monchgard I'll bring up the rear"

Monty aims a haphazard swing at Monchgard, "No!!!!" before he turns and is all set to try to run again, his mind racing and vision spinning crazily. Quinten then approaches and knocks him silly with his swordhilt, and the Private slumps down to the ground, completely knocked out cold. "Ooof!" He is now easily able to be lifted without any resistance. Silly Monty.

"Y-Yes, sah!" Monchgard stiffens, throws a salute, and does as instructed, hauling Monty up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "Movin' out, sah!" He affirms, and takes off after Killian and Jacenta. The night whispers peacefully as the moon shines over a beach, now stained in blood.

Last edited by Lutea (2018-10-23 05:34:26 PM)

Lutea · 2018-10-28 10:52:39 PM

A Deal
Ft. Jinora, Saja, Skylark, Monty
Halyard Tavern: Main Room:

Evening has come, though night has yet to fall in earnest. Fiery light spills across the Tavern's floorboards, cast through the windows by the setting sun; it urges those beast's in its path to avert their eyes or put their backs against the glare. Jinora, while she is out of uniform, certainly seems more... Formal and put-together than her usual 'red tunic, belt, stupid hat' getup allows: the newly minted Major wears a shirt, tied at the chest, beneath a stiff, brown vest. The saber at her side is polished to a sheen, and she sits hunched at the bartop with an ale and a plate of crumbs, dipping her quill into a small inkpot and working away at a sheet of parchment. The bag that rests at her feet is stuffed with scrolls and small, eel-leather bound journals.
For the Tavern, it is quiet - the dinner rush has yet to have drunk enough to be their rowdy selves, but it doesn't seem like that distinction is too far off.

Agile padded feet and claws tak across the wooden floors, leading a light whispering gait over to a particularly well dressed Jinora. White robes and a gravelly voice herald Saja's arrival as he takes his time drinking in the form of Jinora. A fluffy brow is raised and an ear cocks in interest. "You clean up better than expected, Lieutenant. Playing the part of the dashing officer now?" Teases the vulpine. His smile is smug, eyes sparkling more than usual. "So, which is it? Date, celebration? Intimidating fools that think your tail belongs on a wall?"

"'Lo, luff. Need a refill of anything?" Skylark asks as she whisks behind the bar from the back kitchen area. She hadn't been around before and it seems her shift has just started. She's still tying the apron around her waist and tugging an ear out of the neck loop it got stuck in. Without prompt she takes the plate of crumbs away and slides it into the bin not far away near the kitchen door. Her eyes float to Saja and she doesn't offer him anything but her expression seems to welcome an order should he have one. "Who nails tails to a wall?" Sky mutters and leans back to start checking the bar back inventory.

"Promotion, as t'were, sah." The doe grimaces, not needing to look up to identify the beast speaking to her. She dots her 'i's and crosses her 't's and lets the quill rest before turning a teasing smirk on the approaching vulpine. "Though m'tail would look rathah spiffin above a fireplace, m'told. Your's would look a sight more regal, seein' as there's more o'fit, but ye always struck me as more've a 'rug'." She finishes off her tankard with a foamy-lipped snerk. "Ye rushed off in quite th'tithah th'othah night." Skylark's return is greeted with a noticeably brighter twitch of a grin, and she nods. "Aye, darkest ale ye cin' pour me, miss Lark. Are ye swabbin' these decks t'close, tonight?"

The vulpine gives a graceful nod of the muzzle to Skylark. At least he has manners today, unlike when he so rudely ran off! "You would be surprised, Miss Skylark. A captain I once worked for liked to keep...trophies. Never work for searats. All you will get is scurvy, terrible booze and pay, and a broken heart." There's a story in there somewhere. "True. I /would/ make a half decent throw rug, maybe at the bottom of a badger lord's bed. Accessorizing with your enemies might be in fashion in Ruingate these days, why not elsewhere?" Ears wiggle. "Congratulations...Major, I assume? You don't look happy about it." Prods the fox pointedly. "A breakthrough. I now have a working theory, my dear hare. They are not ghosts. They are not diseased. Where does that leave us as possibilities go?" he leads.

Skylark's nose twists just a tad at the idea of beast hides and trophies. "Didn't plan on it," she assures the fox at the idea of working for rats. "But if the this badger lord fellow ever gets a drink here, I'll let 'im know there is a good paw mat in town, ripe fer th' skinnin'." She is in the middle of pouring a molasses colored ale for Jin when the mention of Major comes up. Since Skylark isn't a patrol hare, she gives about two left whiskers about it and sets the drink down in front of the doe. Then, taking the 'not ghosts' wording as a slight, Skylark rolls her eyes hard enough that it seems to propel her away to serve a pine marten that has approached the far end of the bar.

A familiar figure enters the room, though there seems to be a marked change from the way he had entered the previous evening. Gone is the sulky, nervous posture and the dirty clothes, and in its place is a relatively calm and even halfway cheerful young buck. Dressed in his casual clothes instead of a uniform and his fur well-groomed, the Private takes a look around the room before he finds a seat near the bar. He notices familiar figures from the previous evening, though he does not announce his presence...he didn't exactly leave on the best of terms last night. Setting the parchment he had been carrying down on the tabletop, Monty removes a charcoal pencil from the satchel carried over a shoulder, and he starts to work on something; the parchment appears to be some sort of map, it seems.

"His Lordship likes a finah coat, I'm not quite sure ye'd make th'cut!" The Major laughs, leaning onto the bar in anticipation of another drink - dark enough to warm the chest and tickle the nose, rich and earthy. Perfect. "Yessssss." She hums as the ale is delivered, but the doe is chased away before there is an answer to Jinora's question. Her ears flit back ever so slightly, but the flow of conversation hardly allows her to sulk. "Y'know, I was plannin' on piracy fer me next career move. Only seems natural, wot." Jinora jokes, before screwing her face up in genuine concentration. She had just about been convinced of their spectral nature, by this point. "Ah... Mad magicians?" Movement passing her by registers as a familiar face, and Jin turns to give Monty a nod. She is hesitant to rope him into the conversation on foxes, lest it incite another episode.

"Wonderful, I've always wanted my reputation to precede me." Offers the fox to Skylark with a quick grin. "Get me whatever the Major is drinking. And something to eat, please Miss Skylark." He then adds. A hand to his chest. "You wound me, Jinora! A fox is a noble beast, I spend time on my appearance. Not even worthy of being a rug. This is the respect I get." He comes in faux-hurt. He resists the urge to tickle one of Jinora's ears. Monty briefly gets a look. Well, he seems like he isn't about to die of nerves this time. The slightly hard stare he offers the private might not help that, though. "...Not far off, actually. A Seer for a prominent warlord once showed me a little trick of hers. She would give the horde beasts that were reluctant to fight a special concoction. It drove beasts into frothing madness. They were able to shake off wounds that would kill a beast. Sounding familiar yet? It usually killed the beasts who took it." He pauses. "But, I need more evidence and samples. If we can figure out what they're taking, we can see what is in it. And /then/ we can find the suppliers, right back to our culprits behind this whole mess." Lays out the fox neatly. "This, Major Jinora Shyluck Windbell-Tottheim, is where I am going to need those favors."

Skylark sends a grog to the marten, then makes for the small barrels in the bar back. She fills another mug of the dark ale, presenting it to the fox. "Your bread in ah cup," she announces and then levels a look. "An' don't think fer a minute you lot haven't got tabs runnin' sky high here," Sky warns, not even cracking a smile at the... play on words? "You lot just run outta here without throwing down a coin." She pauses. "Not so much the fox. /He/ pays. I'm talkin' about you patrollers." She points a claw at Jinora and then Monty as she spies him. "Sky bloomin' high!" THe barmaid stomps to the kitchen door and vanishes to fetch some food.

Monty glances up, offering Jinora a calm smile and a nod in acknowledgement. He definitely does not seem quite as jumpy or nervous as he'd been the previous day, the buck's eyes lacking the insane spark of the previous day. There's almost an excitement there, even, today. He catches Saja's somewhat icy stare, and he lifts a paw to wave to the fox in return, his gaze returning down to his map somewhat sheepishly. From the snatches of conversation he'd picked up already, it seems they are discussing the foxes again, and despite his previous reaction he seems generally nonplussed about the topic. Ear perks at Skylark's words, and he removes a small pouch from his satchel...he removes a few coins, and sets them on the table beside him. "Got it covered!" he replies, with a grin.

A paw is splayed in mock-hurt at the accusations leveled at her. "I paid las' nigh'!" She protests. In truth, her coin purse has grown noticeably lighter since the Tavern has updated its employment... But the ratio of time spent at the Tavern to coins paid... May be skewed in further favor of the former. Oops. With a guilty half-smile, Jinora digs in her coin purse and rolls some coinage out to await Skylark's return.

In the meantime, as if it can feel the temptation of injustice, one of Jinora's ears twitches, and her smirk only widens. "Like me mum always said: ye cin polish a stone all ye want, it don't make it silvah." But his words give her pause for thought. "Aye, tha' does sound bally plausible. Would it turn them t'green an' rot, too?" She's grateful that Monty received a similar shake-down, and with his current demeanor seeming... Subdued, she offers him a wave and pats the seat beside her. "And I shuddah t'think wha' kinds of favahs this will cost me, sah."

(Saja barks out a laugh, literally. "Careful, noble Patrolling Hares. The two people you always pay are your apothecary and your server. Especially one so brilliant and vicious as our sweet Skylark here." The fox is out with the flattery already. "Private. Are you feeling better?" Questions the healer-fox to Monty. Jinora gets an ear wiggle. His eye /screams/ devious. "Doubtful, but we will not know until we've digged deeper. We're going to need more bodies. My suggestion? Start hunting them. They are a threat to you and your underlings. Showing that they can be killed and /beaten/ will do wonders for their morale." A paw goes up. A digit. "Favor one. I am going with you. I want to see this for myself." A nod. He continues. "Favor two. I know several possible suppliers for herbs and other things that could be what we're looking for. Unfortunately, there was a tavern brawl, and my contacts aren't speaking with me. You get to play intermediary in this professional lover's quarrel." Then, a third digit. "Third, my just payment for services rendered. Dinner, a dance, and I want you to lean on the local sheriff to get me a liscense for my shop. A good import one. Less questions about what this or that herb is, they're annoying and driving down my business."

Skylark pops back out of the kitchen, having either not heard the doe's protests or ignored them. She sets a wooden platter in front of the fox. Cuts of crispy fried fish, a softish, pale yellow cheese with some thinly sliced bread, and a few wedges of apple with nuts scattered around the finger foods. She takes her leave to scoop up Monty's coins and lean an elbow on the bar to peer at the buck. "Ale fer you or somethin' new?" Sky's left ear swings lazily around, listening to Saja.

Monty notices Jinora's gesture for him to join her, and he blinks for a moment, sitting there unmoving. Finally, as if snapping out of a daze, he nods and rises from his seat. He quickly gathers up his things, though not without the usual bumbling around and nearly dropping it all on the floor..."Oh bloody 'ellsteeth, can they not make this stuff so bloody fragile?" he mutters...he carries the parchment beneath an arm as he slides into the offered seat. "Hey!" he offers, with something approximating a cheery grin. "I, uh...I figured I should, uh, should start tryin' to map out possible routes 'n things." He gestures down at the map he had brought. "Start tryin' to prepare early n'such." An ear waggles, his nose twitching. Hearing Saja questioning his health status, Monty gives him a nod. "Oh, indeed, sah. Feeling right as rain but not as cloudy n'all that. Apologies for yesterday, it's..." he bites his lip...."...it's a long story, y'see." He gives a sheepish shrug, before giving a nod to Skylark. "Er, a cider today, if'n it's not much trouble, ma'am...seems I've caused ya enough o'that yesterday."

The Patroller is obviously deflated by the barmaid's demeanor, and she sulkily adds another copper to the small mound of coins resting at the counters edge. As for Saja: she may not be the brightest chink in the chainmail, but Jinora knows enough to avoid too many deals with foxes in these parts. "Yer lucky tha' one of those three - technically four - favahs are already in th'process." She holds up a paw and ticks off her own digits in imitation of him. "One: I will get these 'erbs ye need. Fine." Two. "I will... /See/ abou' 'avin ye along, but it may be a greatah dangah t'yerself than useful to th'mission. I cin assure ye a body or two, bu' I refuse t'put m'hares in needless peril, an'I don't want t'deal with th'inevitable paphwork when one fires an arrer in yer tail." Three. She pauses. "...No." She holds up another claw to stave off protest. "So long as yer business operates within' legality, I will see wha' my position can do fer ye, but the Long Patrol no longah 'as jurisdiction in Halyard. My sway is limited. I will try." Another pause. "An I dinnae dance." She pauses in her discussions with the fox to look over Monty's map. "Appreciate th'initiative, Private." She nods. "I 'eard a rumor young Swiftbuck is t'be yer accompaniment."

Cue the fox starting to gorge. He has the good grace to chew with his muzzle closed, but not much more than that. He's been a busy fox, give him a break. "My compliments to the chef." Saja spouts after a bit of fish and ale. It's only partially sarcastic. Jinora lays out her thoughts on all those favors, and he tilts his head. "A shame. Every officer should know how to dance. I notice you didn't say no to dinner." As though /that/ were the thing he's most dissappointed by her rejection. "...The Patrol, abandoning Halyard?" What a juicy piece of information. A valuable one, at that. One can almost see the gears turning in the fox's head. "Fine. I am completely above board, I assure you." Saja loves contracts and twisting laws. The less legal side of his business he's smart enough to only advertise in certain places. "And finally I will submit to whatever precautions you would like. Despite my earlier jape, I'm fond of having my hide in one piece. I will be discrete and unobtrusive." It's his thing, anyway. A glance to Monty. "I know what a beast going through trauma and shock looks like. It is my job to keep beasts like you in something resembling sanity. Here." One more vial of the same stuff he gave the patroller last time. "One drop, two at the most mixed into rose water when you feel like you're losing your skull. Three will have you staring at a wall for hours. Five will kill you. Long patrol members get a discount."

"Yer welcome," Skylark snorts to Saja as she fills up a tankard of cider and takes it to Monty. She gives him a slightly sympathetic look and doesn't protest the idea of the poor bloke taking some downers. "You keep doin' business in here, an' the tavern will take a cut," she warns the fox as she checks their mugs for needed refills. "There /will/ be a decent band in t'night. Singer isn't bad an' the hedgehog is a mad beast with a fiddle. Good night to learn," Skylark mentions with a cheeky smile to Jinora.

Monty gives an eager nod of his head. "Aye, I figured it'd be a good idea t'mark out th'spots where I think I'd 'ave the most success, y'see. Haven't been out n'about too much since I came to th'Mountain, so a lot o'the terrain isn't too familiar, but...this is as perfect time as any t'change that, right?" The buck seems to be quite happy with the task, after having spent much of the previous night thinking it over. "Who knows, mebbe that's always been m'calling...a travelin' hare!" Upon hearing news of who his traveling partner may end up being, Monty's expression brightens even more. "Adrian? Yer serious? Well I'll be a bloody one-winged seagull inna thunderstorm..." he chuckles. "But he's over at Redwall now, isn't he? I'm assumin' he'll be coming back with the others?" He glances down at his map again, studying it. "That's your job, sah?" Monty replies, eyes still focused on the parchment. "Thought it was bein' kinda shady in taverns and havin' beasts trust ya whether they get a weird feelin' or not," he jokes, before looking up at the fox again with a grin. "But thank you, sah. I think what y'gave me yesterday did help. An' I'm not too worried, starin' at a wall f'hours is actually what I do best, y'know." He accepts the mug of cider from Skylark, offering a smile of thanks as he places a couple of coins on the table for payment. "Thank y'much, ma'am."

"The officahs have decided tha' th'Village's own elected defenses are proficient - only cin waste our time with bar brawls an'petty disturbances fer so long before it seems... No' worth it. It's been made clear tha' our presence causes more disturbance than peacekeepin'." Jinora sighs - it's only a matter of time before the Mountain's state is common knowledge, but the thin cover suits them... For now. At Skylark's assurance that the band is bangin', she turns a chuckle on the other doe. "Are ye offerin' t'teach me, Miss Lark?" Wait, no, she has to be a boss real quick - "Careful, Saja. I'll be bannin' yer cures in me unit if all m'privates are starin' a'walls all day." Her face screws up, realizing how strange that sentence sounded, but it's too late. She plows on. "Aye, ah, th'Corporal Swiftbuck - did I say Private? Forgive me. I... Think it'll be a good turn fer ya, Private. Train up in th'meantime." She clears her throat and sighs towards Saja. "So we 'ave a deal, then? I'm sick of these spooks."

Cue a mocking bow to Monty. "I am a beast of many talents. I'm glad you're doing better. Make sure that you return my kindnesses by impressing your superiors with your dedication and talent." Saja prods, tail flicking a few times. He seems rather pointed about this issue. The fox is a little weird when it comes to the patrol. It's something of an obsession. Hmmm. "I always thought you hares trying to tame this town was a fool's errand. Sailors, pirates, military, vermin and woodlanders. It will always be chaos and conflict until it's burnt to the ground. Smart of you to finally recognize it." Smirk. "They better be good, the last band nearly bled my ears. ...And I'm sure we can come to an arrangement if it gets to that point." One can see the greed in his eye. As for the deal? "Done. I will have Poppy draft a contract for you. You /can/ read, yes? For now..." A paw is offered over to shake. "A pleasure doing business with you." His ears wiggle at that threat.

Skylark frowns to herself at the mention of the Long Patrol pulling out of Halyard. She takes the coins Monty has put down with a clicking tongue of a smile at Monty, but it's weak as she mulls it over. "Nay, lass," the doe half laughs. "I am an /excellent/ dancer, but I am workin' 'til close." And she finally answers Jin's original question, hurray! "They're good, bushtail," Skylark sniffs at the fox. "An' if I wasn't so busy, I'd show the lot of you up. But my bard days are behind to sling drinks to dozy ol' beasts like... well, you lot." The barmaid grins at her patrons and then steps away to take some orders as the bar begins to fill for the dinner and evening rush.

Monty fixes Saja with a grin as he slips the offered vial into his satchel, brow raising in amusement. "M'way ahead of ya there, sah. Got plenty o'both but I don't feel like wastin' it all in one go, y'see. Gotta spread it out over time." He winks. Turning to Jinora, he rolls up his map and pushes it off to the side. "Trainin's already commenced, sah. Just b'cause I'm on leave doesn't mean I still can't access th'trainin' equipment! Don't have much else t'do with m'time, so a little extra trainin' it is! Been tryin' to avoid runnin' on th'beach though, fer obvious reasons." He chuckles. "But th'mountain's got plenny o'hallways!"

Is there disappointment in Jinora's expression? Surely not. The doe clears her throat and gathers the remainder of her parchment and ink, leaving her little pile of guilt money on the counter. See? She pays. "Maybe I'll 'ave bettah timing next time, Miss Lark." She offers with a cheeky wink, pulling her bag up over her shoulder. "Good t'hear, Private. Keep it up - I'll be seein' y'back at th'Mountain..." She casts a look out the darkened window. "...Tomorrow." It's a room upstairs for the Major, tonight. "Saja, I'll be in touch. Do give Poppy my regahds, an' a stiff drink. Daresay ye've driven 'er to it by now." She teases, and the hare slips towards the stairs, for now.

Lutea · 2018-10-28 11:00:09 PM

The Hunt
Ft. Zolomon, Dominik, Jacenta, Varus, and Jinora as GM
Western Shores:

The moon rises and the hares rise with it. While night-time excursions and patrols have been all but eradicated in the face of the current blight plaguing the shores, the small group of hares that step out of the Mountain seem prepared to face it. Armed to the teeth and led by Major Tottheim, the group stands in the moonlight before Jinora turns to address them. "Ye remembah th'plan. Absolutely /no/ splittin' up, no mattah wot. If anybeast tries t'be a hero tonigh' an' puts themselves, or this team, in peril, I will /personally/ feed ye t'the vulpines." Those gathered are there with one mission: find one of these foxes and capture them. While the Mountain's medical and historical knowledge has been unable to fully wrap their heads around this issue, the Patrol has... Hesitantly... Enlisted the help of one Saja, an expert, in Halyard - and a fox himself. Unfortunately.
Jinora carries a small shield, and has encouraged the rest to do the same - they've seen how these beasts fight, and it's by ambush, arrows, and fear. "These... Spirits 'r tricksters 'r whatevah they are, are dangerous - dinnae underestimate'em." Jinora pauses with a sigh. "An' keep eyes on th'sky, as well. Seems they've got a penchant fer birds." With that, the Major sets off downshore. She had made the decision to keep the small team in the dark, without torches, which would make them more visible and vulnerable to ambush. Without the light, eyes will adjust more acutely to the darkness - though visibility is still rather low. In the dunes, every shadow is a beast lurking to attack, every breath of wind is a hollow laugh, and every crash of the waves against the shore is the roar of something sinister... And hungry.

Zolomon wasn't sure at first if he should join or not, but a couple knew of his archer skills and they asked, he did join after some thinking. Besides he was back on duty in a couple days anyways may as well start a little early and this would be his first REAL patrol since joing the Long Patrol. Well he did have a couple times he was a scout before he got to the western shores but he isn't sure that counts.He has his longbow and quiver of arrows with him, even a saber at his side just in case. He is in his uniform, Private first class.

Dominik had been eagerly anticipating the chance when he would get to finally confront the beasts that had plagued his nightmares for the past few days. Ever since the incident with Skylark in Halyard, the hare had had many restless nights, those godforsaken whispers constantly echoing within his head, never seeming to dissipate regardless of what he did. Carrying his shield, his massive blade in its usual place upon the scabbard on his back, the massive buck moves alongside his Patrolmates with a quiet determination within his eyes. Knowing that the plan was to stick to the shadows and be as stealthy as possible, Dom had taken the liberty of darkening his normally mahogany fur with charcoal, making it much easier to blend into the shadows. Piercing blue eyes peer out from a now blackened, steely expression, and the buck seems to be as ready as he's ever been. To Jinora's commands, he gives a simple nod, showing that he understands completely and is ready to do this thing.

Jacenta taged along, they would need a healer and she came along.She has seen them so she is a little jumpy, but she has a sling with her and is fairly well skilled with it if it is needed. In her pouch at her side she has herbs and some bandages.

And they will do the thing indeed! "It is good t'ave ye back, Private Zolomon. Congratulations on yer promotion." The Major offers, giving another look over her provided patrol. If she is scared or worried (spoiler: it's both), she doesn't show it.
The beach is windy, but quiet. If it weren't for the tension borne of expectation and apprehension, Jinora would be taken in by the peace of the night; the sand gives and crunches pleasantly beneath her boots, the waves add a soothing lullaby to the chorus of the chill, coastal wind... But this isn't just a stroll, and it will not be peaceful for long.

Zolomon nods as he keeps alert, very alert and looks around as they walk slowly.For now he stays quiet as well just focusing on his surroundings.

Dominik gives Jinora a firm nod, the look within his eyes showing neither fear or apprehension. It's probably a good thing he is on the side of the Long Patrol, especially on this particular evening. All of the normal silliness and banter had been put aside for his deadly serious side, and it's a side that no one wants to meet, let along some creepy old ghost foxes with parlor tricks. His normal superstitions had also been left behind, for until he actually witnesses it for himself again, to him they are just foxes. And foxes break in half just as easily as any other creature.

Jacenta frowns, she is already jumpy when she frowns even more. She slows slightly as she almost stops and then gets closer to Jinora after a moment or two of almost getting left a little behind the others "I..I think I heard something but..sort of faint but...yeah a yell..scream of some sort, by the dunes, it came from that direction"She points and is already a little on edge, a couple deep breaths and she calms...for now.

At Jacenta's urging, the Major steels herself. "Thank ye, Private. Double-time, Patrollers." She orders, and increases her speed to lead the hares downshore and behind the dunes, where Jacenta heard the scream. As they get closer, there is another scream - this one loud enough to be heard by everybeast, and Jinora draws her saber. "Steady." She growls to the Patrol, and they carefully round the dune...
...Just in time to hear the pleas and watch the demise of a mouse. She screeches, her paws held in front of her face - but they do not stop the arrow that pierces through the side of her neck. Going slack-jawed and wide-eyed, the mousemaid falls to the sand and then goes still. The air fills with hollow, cackling laughter, though no foxes are in sight. "Jacenta! See t'her!" Jinora shouts, and holds her saber and shield aloft. "Somebeast keep covah on th'healah! Shields up, stay'n formation!" She barks, to her hares, and then to the darkness: "Show yerselves!"
From the surrounding darkness, a voice calls out: "Ahhhh, the Long Patrol... Master knew we would be seeing you again, he knew, he knew, he knew... Ahehehe! He knew!" There is no way to tell where the voice comes from - it seems to come from everywhere at once! But another arrow zips through the dark with a deadly 'hiss' to bury itself in Dominik's shield. "Private Zolomon! Fire an arrer everyplace ye see one come from!" In the dark, there isn't a visible target for any of them, but it's the best shot they have right now.

Zolomon is deadly with the longbow but he has to see a target first, he frowns as voices seem to bouch off everywhere but he does have an arrow ready to fire when he does see a fox, or something that sort of looks like a fox as he has heard they are sort of foxes with fir falling off or something like that.

Varus is definitely out here, too, his old ceremonial rapier polished to a shine, and he says to Dominik, "Keep yer eyes peeled for th' enemy, Private..."

At Jinora's command, Dominik immediately moves to cover Jacenta with his bulk and with his shield, and it seems it's a good thing he does for not a moment later the arrow buries itself into his shield. He takes a half-step back from the impact, eyes narrowing before reaching forward to yank the arrow out with a low growl. Snapping it in half with a paw, he tosses it back in the direction from where it came. Watching the unfortunate demise of the mousemaid only causes his anger to increase, though he does stay in formation knowing it was the best possible thing to do right now. "Will not know ven sword is shoved down throat," he mutters, seething and fidgety, just wanting to get his paws on one of the shadowy beasts.

Jacenta quickly goes to check on the mousemaid, she frowns as she goes to check for a pulse but if the arrow is in the mouse maid's neck it's likely too late for a healer at this point. She frowns and looks back at forth, she clearly doesn't like all the laughing and echos around her.

Around the hares is nothing but dunes and darkness... The mouse is, most certainly, dying, but it isn't a fast process: weakly, her paws reach and curl for Jacenta's - but there is nothing to be done for her. Another arrow hisses through the air and narrowly misses Zolomon - and all through this, the laughter continues. "Master told us, he did, he did, he did!" The unseen speaker cackles. "He told us you would be so foolish! Ahehehe!" Jinora grits her teeth, gaze flicking back and forth, her shield raised - an arrow thuds into the wood of it and she grunts.
As if borne on a gust of wind, the hares suddenly find a cloud of smoke washed over them. It stings the nose and mouth and Jinora begins coughing almost immediately, her eyes watering. She tugs the collar of her tunic up over her muzzle in an attempt to stave off the effects of whatever they've been blasted with. "Jacenta, d'you know wha' this is?!" She coughs.

Zolomon frowns, he blinks and moves slightly as he aims his arrow, "Something..someone is here just..was beside me" He has to then cover his mouth and nose and frowns.Its best to not take a chance what ever that stuff is, doing this it will be a bit hard to fire an arrow.

Jacenta frowns, her eyes and nose burns a little as she coughs " Irritant....pepper..."She thinks, "Think pepper dust, it's not poison but can make your thorat and eyes burn a little, but it will wear off in short..short time"

Dominik does his best to provide cover for Jacenta as she checks on the helpless mousemaid, his shield held in a position to protect her from any arrow strikes. As the smoke begins to curl up around them, the large hare squints his eyes as they begin to water, his nose beginning to burn as well. He too pulls his tunic up to cover part of his face, and he feels something brush by him. Not quite sure of what it is, regardless Dom reaches down with a lightning-swift paw to try and grab it. Nevertheless, there seems to be nothing there, and Dom comes up with nothing but air. This only seems to anger him further, and he's about two seconds away from drawing his sword and charging. Common sense takes over however, and he merely remains there with the others, trying his best to see anything at all.

"Ahehehe!" The laughter cackles, suddenly sounding very close to where Varus stands, but when the voice speaks again, it sounds further away once more. "Hares, hares, hang 'em by the ears! Hares, hares, cook 'em in a stew! Hares, hares, plenty for me, plenty for you! Ahehehe!" Thankfully, the coastal breeze makes it difficult to keep the hare's bogged down with the effects of the pepper dust for long, and they will notice it growing easier to breathe once more.
As it does, a figure crests the dune to the side of them, silhouetted by moonlight. The fox looks wrong - twisted and broken with branch-like protusions bursting from it's left side and right shoulder. Its right arm seems to hang, uselessly, as it cackles down at them. It's impossible to tell, by the voice or form, if they are male or female - but they laugh with a chilling cackle all the same. Atop their head is some sort of head-dress; in the darkness and distance, it looks to be made of bones and raven's feathers.
"Archer!" Jinora gasps out, her throat raw and voice raspy from the pepper dust. The laughter sounds from all around them, though the beast does not open its mouth. "Stay in f-formation!" She coughs, but even as she does, another green-fletched arrow buries itself into Dominik's shield from the direction opposite the visible fox.

Varus hacks and coughs, sputtering until the dust clears. "Hold yer ground, Dominik..." Then there's a voice right beside him! But he's no fool, not even bothering to draw his rapier.

Dominik has seemingly had quite enough of this nonsense, the normally quiet hare's voice finally booming from his chest to echo out over the dunes, drowning out the laughter of the foxes as he shakes in anger. Remarkably, he still doesn't break formation yet. "Will not rhyme...or laugh...ven get paws round throat! Stop being coward, step forward! Fight!" He grunts as the second arrow collides with his shield, and once again he yanks the arrow out and flings it away in defiance.

Zolomon aims and waits for the right morment, yep there is a fox...ummm its a fox like creture, well he lets his arrow go as he aims right at that fox creture!

Jacenta coughs a little and frowns.She stays where she is and as calm as one can with , what ever those are around her.She frowns "The mousemaid is...she's dead by the way wasn't anything I could do..sorry" She feels bad healers are suppose to save lives after all.

As Zolomon fires arrows at the fox on the dunes, Jacenta kneels, protected by Dominik, by the now-dead mouse, Varus and Jinora stand their ground, another complicaton arises. Zolomon's arrow takes the fox on the dune in the shoulder, but they don't give any indication of pain. They open their mouths, cackling again, before disappearing.
"Boo!" The voice is soft, chilling... And right at Dominik's side! The fox's ruined muzzle twists into a grin, revealing rotten teeth. So close, it is clear that his pupils are so dilated that his eyes appear black, his fur hangs loose about him, appearing torn in places to reveal gristle and muscle underneath... He came out of nowehere, and now he dances backwards almost immediately before leaping forward with surprising speed toward Varus.
With the fox on the dune gone, Jinora chances a look over her shoulder at the individual attacking them head-on! He is dancing with terrifying speed to swipe at Dominik and Varus with his dagger and then dancing out of reach. Another arrow buries itself into her shield, keeping her from coming to their aid or risk opening them all up to an attack from behind. "Jacenta, stay wi' me!" Major Jinora commands, trusting the attacking fox to Varus and Dominik. "Zolomon, keep firing where th'arrers come from! They're tryn'a break us apaht!"

Zolomon is quick to get another arrow and pays close attention to where the foxes arrows come from, he fires one of his won arrows, hopefully at a fox, and quickly gets another arrow as he stays alert and serious and waits, another arrow he fires and is already notching a 3nd arrow.

Varus does draw his blade this time. The terror said demon fox is trying to instill is entirely lost on him. He's seen to many genuine deadbeasts to be phased in the least. "Dominik, stick close ta me... Don't let th' fox's appearance throw yah off..."

Dominik immediately whirls as he hears the voice right beside him, his paw once again swiping at nothing but air as the fox moves just out of reach of the steaming mad, frustrated hare. The fox's dagger swipe just barely misses Dominik, and it seems the hare has no idea how close he had just come to some major hurt. Pointing a paw at the fox, he growls, "Try again, this time...stay in von place!" He braces himself, footpaws digging deep into the sand as he readies himself for another possible attack, and at the same time trying to keep himself in front of Varus to protect him.

Jacenta gulps and stays close to the major as she is told to do.She is not brave, but she does try to be brave and not have full blown panic mode.It takes a lot to not panic and she manages to not run, just barely manages to not run and stays very close to the major.

Because the foxes show no pain nor make no sounds they don't mean to, Zolomon may never know that two of his arrows /do/ find targets in the dark - quite the feat! The second fox rushes again at Varus and Dominik, cackling wildly. He ducks, rushing past Varus to get at Dominik. "Boo!" He screeches, gleefully, and with shocking speed rushes, pivots, and slashes out with his knife. He is barely able to get close enough, so the cut that he carves into Dominik's arm is shallow - it probably won't even scar. Good thing, too! But the fox seems incredibly pleased with this, and dances away - putting himself foolishly close to the knot of hares in the process.
"Master will feast well tonight! He can feel your fear, little healer! Ahehehe!" The voice comes from nowhere, the fox that Zolomon shot is nowhere to be seen.

Zolomon stays very alert, should he fire an arrow at this fox, or should he wait.

Dominik takes another swipe at the taunting fox as it gets near again, and as his paws pass over it, it leaves him open for the assailant to cut into his arm with his dagger. Dominik grunts at the quick flash of pain, a rivulet of blood trailing down through his fur to drip onto the sand. Paying it no mind since it seems to be nothing more than a simple nick, the large hare trembles in his anger. Noticing that the fox is spending too much time gloating and not realizing that he'd put himself within reach, Dom fires off a strong, hammerlike punch in said fox's direction. If he could at least knock him down somehow, it'd leave an opening for Varus to be able to get ahold of him.

Varus is quick to react. His older age has not dulled his reflexes. When the fox dashes past him, lunging at Dom, the older buck spies an opening that the vermin foolishly left wide open. Taking full advantage of Dom's punch, he pivots on his left foot, delivering a loud, crunching kick to the fox's side. "Quick, Dominik! Tackle while he's down!"

Between Dominik's crushing punch and the kick delivered from Major Varus, the fox is incapacitated and trapped! Once captured, the fox doesn't seem to show any panic - he goes perfectly still and rigid... "Master?" He asks, softly, before the arrow to pierces him perfectly through the center of the forehead, fired from the darkness. His eyes do not close nor change, just fog over as his ruined, twisted body goes slack in Dominik's arms.

"Blast!" Jinora barks - but it's apparent that the foxes are in retreat, leaving no sign behind that can be found in the darkness. They are simply... Gone, leaving the beach quiet and peaceful once more. "Private Jacenta, see if anybeast is injured... We need t'get this t'Halyahd." She growls, furious at the vulpine's acts.

Zolomon stays focused and alert for other foxes close by, He is ready to fire an arrow if needed, "So...where to?" He asks quietly.

Dominik finds himself quickly grabbing ahold of the fox after Varus levels it with his kick, and it takes him absolutely everything in his power not to just snap the creature in half with his bare paws. The arrow seems to put an end to the fox's life, and Dom takes a step backwards, concern etched upon his darkened features...that one could have easily had his name on it, but it obviously wasn't intended for him. As the fox dies in his arms, the hare quickly slings the body up and over his shoulder as Jinora barks out her command. Unbeknownst to Dominik, the small gouge in his arm had begin to quietly sizzle, whatever odd liquid that had been present upon the dagger beginning to do its work as the wound begins to very slowly increase in size. All Dom can feel currently is a bit of typical soreness, as he readies to trudge after Jinora in the direction of Halyard, with their quarry in tow.

Jacenta frowns as they head out "I..don't like..."She frowns and likely will freak the tall hare out as she makes Dominik stop and gets a close look at his arm"This is..bad, very very bad....something was on that dagger!"

Varus grimaces as the fox is slain. "We won't be gettin' any stories from this deadbeast... Where to, Jinorora?"

"Private Dominik, that'un is comin' with me t'Halyahd. If ye wouldn't mind totin' 'im, please come wi'me." She leaves it to Varus and the other hares of his unit to bring the report to the Mountain... That is, until Jacenta's reports Dom's condition. Jinora swears wildly under her breath. "We need t'get you both t'Halyahd. New plan, all'a ya come wi' me. Jacenta, Zolomon, keep our guard in case we need t'carry Dominik, too." This is not going at all as planned, and now Jinora, Dominik, Varus, Jacenta, and Zolomon have to high-tail it to Halyard, toting a horrifying body, where a shady fox awaits with help... Hopefully.

Last edited by Lutea (2018-10-28 11:01:01 PM)

Lutea · 2018-10-31 01:15:10 PM

Consider This a Favor
Ft. Saja, Jinora, Jacenta, Dominik
Halyard Village: Saja's Shop:

The shop of one Saja Hawkeye is a ramshackle place that was once one of the more prominent vermin apothecaries. He and his mouse 'assistant' Poppy have converted it into a proper clinic-slash-apothecary that's on the more legal side of things if you're willing to stretch definitions and slip the constable some coin every once in a while. And so, there's a front desk, a few shelves filled with herbs and poltices, as well as a back office and a door back to what passes for a clinic. Or, as of late, a moratorium. Poppy is asleep in the more-ramshackle sleeping quarters in this shop. Saja himself is pouring over a medical text with several vials, a half-empty bottle of wine, and parchment before him. He is, for once, looking confident.

As of late, Jinora has found herself spending an increasingly unfortunate amount of time in this business and in the company of the one who runs it. As such, the Major feels little need for decorum as she bodily shoulders open the door with a wild 'BANG' - she's trailed by two hares with a stretcher, and is currently supporting the weight of the massive hare, Dom. "Saja." She grunts, face tight with effort. "/Fix this/." Her free arm is still strapped into her shield - three arrows protrude from it. Sorry Poppy, nap time is over.
The stretcher is covered in a blanket - but underneath it is the form of a dead fox, weird branch protrusions peeking from under the cover.

Jacenta is helping and keeps looking at the tall Dom every so often as if making sure he doesn't pass out, she frowns at the wound on his arm which, well it's getting worse and that just makes her nervous.

Dominik hadn't put much thought into the fact that he'd been poisoned, even after Jacenta had made it abundantly clear with her diagnosis after seeing the dagger wound. Stubbornly, he had refused any help, preferring to walk on his own for as long as he possibly could, and even growling at the hares carrying the stretcher if they got too close. The closer they had gotten to Halyard, the worse he had gotten, however, and by the time they reach the clinic he is completely soaked in sweat, his expression showing obvious pain despite his efforts to mask it. The wound on his arm had greatly increased in size at this point, and it was not particularly a pleasant thing to see. He staggers a little as they barge into the room, "...can make it...by self. Am fine..." he gasps, that not being true in the least.

'Hawkeye' is not a misnomer. Nor does Poppy prove to be a heavy sleeper as she rushes into the main room slapping on glasses in her nightclothes. Saja is up as soon as the door is forced in. The wine bottle is tipped over, and the fox has the decency to drop the crossbow he'd been pulling out onto the desk without comment. "Close the door! Lock it. Leave the dead, living first! First shelf, second row, sprinkle paprika on the corpse. Bring the buck with me! Major? See my assistant. Do not die, please." Then he punts open the clinic door. Poppy is helping Jinora to a side table within the next room. Saja motions in, and there's two medical tables with sheets oddly clear of blood for a vermin clinic. Dominik speaks. Saja grabs a sugical knife, as well as a trolly of herbs. "What do you feel?" He asks Dominik.

It takes some fenangling to get Jinora, Dominik, Jacenta, the stretcher, and Private Bobbin in, but they manage it somehow. "Shut y'perfectly sculpted head, y'daft, sweaty beast." Jinora grunts to Dominik, attempting to lead him, with Poppy's assistance, to the side table in the next room. She let's the other's deal with the corpse. "Up with ye."

Jacenta frowns, she is not dealing with the dead beast, the other private can put, what ever it was, on the dead beast. She frowns and looks over, after she makes sure the other Private does what he needs to do, she will follow slowly "His arm is getting worse as time goes along and little too quickly too for my likeing.There was something really bad on the dagger, like seriously bad"

Dominik goes to move in the direction of the room that Saja had opened, with Jinora and Poppy's assistance... and in the process his legs wobble then completely give out, and he collapses heavily to the floor in between them. Still, he struggles gamely to push himself back up again, absolutely despising showing any sort of weakness whatsoever in front of his squadmates. "Is not...daft..." he mutters, in an almost pouting tone despite his agony. Sinking to the floor again, his face is a mask of pain, rivulets of perspiration running down his face, streaking through the coal-darkened fur...the rest of his fur looking as if he'd taken a nice relaxing swim in the ocean. "Have small nick....on...arm. Is...fine. Is like...fire. Is...fire...." he mumbles, blinking. Obviously he hasn't taken a look at his own arm yet, the wound is festering and it appears as if he'd been doused with some sort of acid, as the fur is burned away around the wound.

Saja and Poppy share a glance at the wound that Dominik has. That acid-washed fester earns the pair a shared look of recognition. And, either wouldn't admit it, horror. Poppy quickly abandons Jinora and her wounds for favor of the big hare. She's rushing him up to the table with gentle urgency. Saja is over with the knife and a vial. He nods to Jacenta. "Yes. This is a horrible poison. Healer, make sure your patient drinks that vial. It is an anti-toxin that will help. We will need to bleed him some to ensure it does not go further than his arm. Understand? He'll take it easier from you than me." He offers sternly to Jacenta. She's the new star, it seems, as he hands over that vial. A glare to Jinora. "Hold him down." Then Saja is starting make quick, decisive cuts along that festering wound. Enough to get out any pus. Herbs are quickly being slapped on by Poppy.

Poor Private Bobbin, a fighter, just stares at Jacenta as the care of the body is apparently left to her. "Aren't you a healah?" She asks, staring at the pepper in horror. Jinora, now that Dominik is settled, pulls a dagger wrapped in cloth from her side. "This." She lays it on a table nearby and lets her shield rest in the front room. She isn't sure if the arrows were dipped in the concoction as well, but she'll be sure to give them for study once Dominik is tended to - but, for now - she is only in the way. "Gimme that." The Major snarls, snatching the pepper from Private Bobbin (who just... Stood there with it) and, wrinkling her nose, flings back the cover to sprinkle it over the dead body as instructed. Now, unfortunately, her only purpose... Is to wait. She isn't the touchey-feely sort, so having her extra lump of flesh in that healing area would only be detrimental, and she is able to offer little by way of comfort.

Jacenta nods as she looks at Dom, "Drink it"She says in a sort of demanding tone.She also tries to keep an eye on the wound and what Saja is doing. She is worried, and a little grumpy maybe now.

Dominik is still somewhat apprehensive as he is helped up to the table. Unable to stand very well (if at all), he has no choice but to lie down, and with his size it's pretty much a guarantee that his limbs would be hanging off the edge on all sides. He accepts the offered vial, choking it down as best he can, and as Saja begins to slice at the wound, he buries his face on the table and bites back a scream of agony. Instead, he merely groans, the table vibrating with the low sound. His arm indeed feels as if it had been hit with a flaming arrow and had caught fire, and he hadn't felt anything so painful in his entire life. Still, he gamely holds back showing the extent of this, his eyes open, bewildered and glistening as he peers helplessly at Jinora and Jacenta. It seems at this point, a slight fever had begun to develop, the buck getting increasingly warmer as the time passes.

It might be superstition, but the pepper at least has some preservative properties! /Vermin/! At least the body isn't in the way. Saja nods as Jinora sets that knife, wrapped up, aside. "Nobeast touch that weapon! It is a valuable piece of evidence." Saja gives Jacenta a swift nod. It seems she's right in forcing that vial, as whatever is in it seems to start to slake the festering in Dominik's arm! It doesn't do much to help pain though! Poppy is quick to rush off and grab some moonflower. "Major! Grab a cork, shut your hare up before he screams his tongue off! Healer! Grab the bandages and help apply the poltice to his arm! He's bleeding out the bad blood, we need to add the moonflower before he dies of fever!" Saja has already laid a paw to the forehead of Dominik. He speaks like a commander in this clinic, directing and acting all at once.

Jacenta frowns but nods, she will get the bandages and help apply what herbs are needed, but she will also talk to Dominik..."Dom...we are helping you ok, just focus on me or focus on Major jinora..ok?" Yes try and least have some fear leave her fellow hare, if she can that is, and at the same time do her best to save his life.

There is no joy as Jinora rushes to the cupboard and yanks the cork out of a fine bottle of amber liquid. She doesn't even steal a sqig, just strides into the medical area with a grimace and attempts to stuff it into Dominik's mouth. "Dun' like this anymore'n you, Private." She grumbles to him, though the concern and worry is evident in the furrow of her brow, even if her handling of the task is rough. As all Long Patrol hares are, she received some medical training during her recruit and Private training - but only what is needed to keep a body from bleeding out on the battle field, she is sorely out of her element.

Dominik weakly moves his legs as if attempting to slide off the table and try and get to his footpaws again, still not fully accepting that he'd been poisoned. It had only been a nick by a small dagger, how in the gates of Dark Forest would it be able to make him feel this weak and helpless? He blinks as Jinora stuffs the cork in his muzzle, eyes darting back and forth in alarm as he cannot help but bite down hard on it to keep from screaming again. He is absolutely drenched in perspiration, his fur damp to the touch, and despite being treated with the herbs and poulticed, his arm still feels as if it were on fire. A numbness had begun to settle in eventually, and the poor buck is just awash in numerous unpleasant feelings all over the place. "Mmmmmffffff!!!!" A cloudiness has begun to creep up within his eyes, the wildness slowly beginning to fade as he slumps back against the table, his brow extremely hot to the touch. He struggles to keep his eyes open, feeling a strange lightheadedness as he merely stares at those hurrying about trying to help him.

Jacenta's bandages are placed, and so at least Dominik won't bleed to death. Packed with herbs, even Saja knows that much of this procedure will be on the big hare's willpower alone. Still, he doesn't stop. A stubborn git of a fox, he fully intends to fix this big buck as best can be. A nod to Poppy and Jinora alike. Jin has that cork into teeth, and so there's one worry down. Poppy has grabbed a clean towel, and is doing her level best to wet the thing lightly, and clean up his sweat. Saja checks the poor beast's brow. As it turns out, he goes for that amber bottle that Jinora opened up. Poppy grabs a lot of coriander, and the pair mix it all up. "Major? Hold his mouth open if you can." A minor dose of calming opium to the mix, and he's ready to force this horrid sludge down Dominik's throat. It's more than enough to dull the senses and with luck, reduce that horrible fever along with the anti-venom swimming in Dom's system.

With the mangled fox body properly spiced and Dominik corked, the Major is thanking her past self for her choice in specialty. If this is the future a combat medic like Jacenta has to look forward to, she is happy to accept her 'bludgeon them or nothing' tract with grace and humility. "Yes, sah." Jinora jokes, darkly, moving to grip the Private's muzzle and keep his mouth open. "M'bedside mannah may be lacking, little one." She teases the taller buck. "M'bettah at breakin' bones than mendin' 'em." An awkward pat on the shoulder is awarded, then. "Bu' yer in good paws..." She pauses, gaze flicking up at Saja and Poppy and then back down. "I think."

Dominik isn't really in much of a position to protest, his arms too weak to lift at this juncture. He can do nothing but helplessly watch as his muzzle is opened and the mix of alcohol and herbs are ungraciously shoved in. Trying to swallow it as best he can, he manages to get the concoction down, a shudder rippling through him afterwards. He's put his share of strange alcoholic mixtures down in the past, so this one should be a piece o'cake. He watches Jinora dazedly, her teasing causing a flicker of a smile to appear upon his trembling muzzle. "Eees not... leetle vun..." he rasps, softly. "Eees beeg...lug..." His smile widens a little at her comment about breaking bones. He most certainly can relate to that one. His eyelids drift a little, though he struggles to keep them open, and at this point he is at the mercy of both the poison and those who are doing their best to fight it off.

Saja's fuzzy fox brows flash morbidly in turn. "Two sides of the same coin, dear Major! Breaking and mending often are within the same paws. ...Besides, if you want kindness, find an Abbey beast." A shrug. He happily hawks their superior skills as overall healers. "If you wish to not die from a vermin's black blade, Saja Hawkeye and his apprentice Poppy will serve you instead." So much pride and an odd fixation with Dominik's suffering. Light flashes upon overly thick spectacles, and the deft-pawed mouse Poppy holds that same glance wrapped in many more self doubts. "W...we'll make sure he'll be...in one piece!" Offers Poppy unsurely. Gulp. Jinora seems to be helping though. "Jinora. Speak to him." Offers Saja. Then he's over to a cabinet. Some water, a quick mashing of a rare handful of dark beans fill with multiple stimulants to keep his heart pumping, and a final addition of more of that anti-poison. "May Martin the Warrior slap you back from Hellgates itself. Tell him my neck is on offer instead, Private." Smirk. Then the fox pours it down the unfortunate hare's throat.

"Nah, y'ain't tha' big." Jinora nods to Saja's urge to keep speaking to him. "I seen biggah. Y'ever meet a Wolverine? I boxed'un once. Righ' here in Halyahd." She snorts. "Bloody blightah knocked me 'alfway t'nex' Thursday, me grinnin' th'whole time like an idiot. Ye'll be, uh, gettin' knocked t'next Thursday yerself, soon. In fact, it's an ordah tha' ye get through this. Yeah? Tis a mattah'a pride, I want t'best ye in th'ring. Call it a vanity project, totally selfish." As she chatters, the hare glances up at Saja, wincing at the last addition to the mix. She pats his forehead uncomfortably. "Ye tell anybeast abou' this an' I'll let Saja keep ya. M'not kissin' anymore boo-boos."

It does indeed seem as if the chatter is helping to keep Dom's mind off of the struggle his body is going through, and despite him being quite close to unconsciousness, the large hare gives a deep chuckle at Jinora's words. "...wolferine...vat...is...? Never heard...such thing." He then is forced to once against down a strange concoction, and he squeezes his eyes shut at the unpleasant tasting mishmash of things. "...ugh. Vat is...stuff? Mebbe let...die instead...." He seems he can still joke even when hovering between life and death. "Yes. Meet...in ring. Dom vil show...how to box. Show proper...way...to..." The hare shudders, head lolling to the side as he feels himself beginning to drift away. He still peers at Jinora, and for a brief moment there is a rare flash of helplessness there, the large hare unsure of how to comprehend the current situation he is in.

Smirk. "And trust me, dear hare. Your Major's company is far better than mine." When in doubt? Claim that you're on the superior officer's side. Yet, that doesn't seem to be nearly enough for this overly large hare. Pure white foxy teeth grind. And then fury overcomes him! Turning to Jinora, he nods, and then bows. "...Consider this a favor." And then Saja Hawkeye rears back with his paw, and dares to try to punch poor Dom (lightly) in the jaw. "SOLDIER! How dare a hare of the LONG PATROL act so driftless while a mere /fox/ tries to heal him!? Come, catch my single bright out and pour liquor on my muzzle you fool!" Call this shock treatment. Poppy sighs. And Saja is offering himself /way/ too easy for a response for the intentionally slack-wristed punch. His entire body tenses in response for the big buck.

Before he manages to completely drift away, the buck's ears perk at the strange fox's suddenly odd behaviour. Clawing back up through whatever fog it was he'd been sinking down into, the large buck is woken even more by the attempt at a punch by Saja. When Dom's eyes open again, the look within them is one that absolutely NO one wants to see. Incredulousness mixed with pure rage, Dom manages to move his head back, then ram it forward in a headbutt aimed towards the fox. Hey, if his arms don't work, why not use the next best thing? "Catch...forehead..." Dom growls, the buck awake again, breath heaving in his chest at the sudden bout of activity. He sinks back down to the table, staring daggers at Saja, who likely has flown across the room at this point.

Saja Hawkeye, assassin, mercenary, medic, beast of many talents...is still a fox. He might be strong for his species, but a beast that should be down in medical joy ramming his forehead up /just/ in time not something even a fox of his particular talents can endure. Swat. That pure /smug/ of a fox. And then a hare-butt cracks into his beautiful, charismatic muzzle. He lands with a heavy thud, amidst a minor bit of debris on the end of the desk. He has the gall to make a rude gesture mid-fallback just before he goes unconscious. As for Poppy? She sighs, ready to clean up both her master, and the beast he brought back to life.

assassinrat · 2018-11-02 11:28:29 AM

I Shoulda Killed 'im
Ft. Jinora, Saja
Halyard Tavern:

Now that Dominik is out of the woods - both Dark and figurative - Jinora has had some time in her rented room to sleep, wash up, and change into her plainclothes. The doe wears a loose shirt, it's collared and ties at the neck, and trousers now as she sits, slumped at her usual place at the bar. The Major is leaned forward onto her elbows, a neutral gaze held on the dark contents of the ale she clutches; the remnants of a bowl of soup rest beside it - she's there, she's awake, she's tired. The Tavern itself is still abuzz - rumors drifting from muzzle to muzzle as word of the attack on the beach and the Patroller many saw dragged to Saja's Shop, half-dead. She doesn't do anything to dispell, correct, or encourage the rumors - in fact, Jinora, as the kids say, is simply straight chillin'.

With one buck brought back (barely) from the brink of death using various curatives of dubious legality, Saja Hawkeye has declared the workday over. Poppy is absent for once, finally getting some well deserved rest. The fox himself, however, can't sleep and thus is out for a night on the town. He's ditched his usual robes for something slightly fancier. His breeches are a sleek black, well fitted down to the ankles in something light and silk-like. A navy blue shirt with puffy sleeves and a white cravat, the addition of a long black scarf draped over his neck and a silver-buckled belt completes the ostentatious outfit. There's even a silver timepiece looped on his belt. He checks a dueling rapier at the bar, before his good eye spies a certain Major, the target of his dances, healing, and general skullduggery these days. Ordering a glass of grog, he pads over with a smile. He offers a bow even before he speaks. "May I join you tonight, Major Windbell-Tottheim?" His eye sparkles warmly.

"Righ' on time." Jinora smirks, not surprised to find the fox there. Really, where else is there to go? There's the Gambling Den, of course, but the Tavern still seems to hold the monopoly on the downtime of Halyard and the Mountain's residents. "Please." She sighs and turns a prolonged, critical stare on the fox and, just as it reaches the point of being a liiiiittle bit uncomfortable, she grumbles and reaches into her bag on the floor. A roll of parchment, tied and stamped with the seal of Halyard - should there be such a thing - is deposited in front of the fox. "Congratulations. Yer a legitimate business." The Major scowls. "Dinnae make me regret this, Saja." Even without the Patrol's legal sway in Halyard, the uniform still holds enough merit in these matters, it would seem.

(Saja sits, leaning back in the chair and crossing his legs. His tail flicks this way and that as he takes out a long, thin pipe. Loading it up, he strikes a match. Two smoke rings later, and his drink arrives just in time for the Major to present a piece of paper that's worth more to him than gold. He opens the seal, and sighs happily upon reading it. It's tucked into a pocket with as much care as it warrants. The hard stare is met with the look of a beast currently on top of the world...and reaching for more. Gears turn in his head, already planning. "Payment received and noted. If anybeast dares say that Major Jinora of the Long Patrol isn't a beast of her word, I'll duel them personally for the insult." Offers the tod dramatically and with a small wave of his pipe. He raises his drink, and knocks it back. "This will help our affairs greatly." Meaning, of course, him /and/ Poppy. A package deal these two. He looks over Jinora, some small bit of actual concern entering his eye. "...When did you sleep last?" There's the edge of a Healer Voice in there.

"I'll duel ye m'self if it comes aroun' tha' ye abuse this position." The Major huffs - but she knows her own disadvantage when she sees it. He has saved her Patroller and, on top of this, seems to be the only one capable of unraveling the mystery of the foxes terrorizing the Western Shore. In order to protect the ideals the Patrol holds dear, and keep her own safe, she has to play his game - though it doesn't equate to trust. There is nothing to be done, but return to her drink with a snort of laughter. "Got a decent twenty winks 'bout... An 'our ago? Occasional nap in yer shop." She stretches, rolling her neck with a wince. "...Ye need bettah chairs. Ye cin afford ya fancy clothes -" She nods at his get-up. "-Ye cin afford some cushions."

Smirk. The fox takes the opportunity to look a bit smug. Not /too/ much, he doesn't want to be rude to a beast he honestly likes and respects. He will, of course, toy with her. It's the nature of a fox, particularly one with Saja's sneaky nature. "Is that an offer, Jinora? My tail is positively quivering to hear it!" A hand goes to his chest. Then he sighs. "Good. You still look exhausted. Healer's orders, more sleep after your drink. I don't pity you the troubles you are no doubt fighting. If that buck is anybeast to go by, you have worthwhile subordinates. Remember that in order to take care of them, you must remember Jinora as well." A firm look, then he's back to lounging decadently. Sip. "...Are you my interior decorated now? Taken under advisement. I'll send Poppy to do some shopping." A shrug. "We have made a few breakthroughs. Ready to hear them?"

The Major snorts again and dips her muzzle into her tankard. "I highly doubt ye pity me troubles, else ye wouldn' be such a trouble yeself." She rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair, throwing an arm over the back of it in a relaxation of the stiffness she's had to adopt since her premature promotion. "Aye, m'thinkin' a shar-troose fer th'walls." She has no idea what she's talking about. But, joking aside, the young Major's expression quickly dissolves into interest, eyes widening and ears perking. "Aye, ou' with it! Stones an' seas - give me somethin' t'kill an' put an' end t'this madness."

"Oh come now, Major. I like to think I'm livening up your life. We have such a profitable relationship, don't tell me you that you don't find all of this mystery and intrigue over vulpines refreshing after the doldrums of regimented routine?" And then the hare is up in tankard and arms over the breakthrough. Just as he hoped. "I'd prefer it if you abstained with the killing. ...Immediately, at least. I don't care who you hack to bits on your off hours as long as it isn't my Poppy or myself." It's his turn to slide a rather large stack of parchment over from a bag.

"Your ghost foxes are taking ergot, along with a host of other interesting and extremely illegal stimulants to prepare for battle with your warriors, Major. Wolves' breath, opium...nasty, nasty stuff. That is why they seem to feel no pain at all. Because they don't. /This/ is a list of every beast I know that would be capable of making such things and willing to sell them to the highest bidder. The ones I've circled are the likely culprits from my...previous dealings in Ruingate. Old friends, if you will. Shake them down first, and we will be on top of whomever is organizing this little adventure of scaring your fighting hares into slobbering fools."

As soon as the list is in her paw, Jinora stands so fast she almost rattles her tankard off the counter. "Saja, yer beauty knows no bounds an' yer intellect cannae be matched." She beams, pocketing the list. "Any friends a'yours tha' I should take a gentle paw with?" She jokes, seeming to realize that her excitement drew her out of her chair. Clearing her throat, she settles back into her seat and gathers herself, pulling her tankard to her chest to cover up the outburst. "Daresay th'Village will be bored once these ghouls are done away wi', eh?"

Wag wag wag goes the tail of a fox who just had his ego thoroughly stroked and brushed to a shine. "For /you/, Jinora my dear, anything. I am pleased you finally recognize my greatness and assorted superiority to scum like those half-rotted walking corpses that dare take up the name 'fox'." Oh yeah, he's drinking this in. Sorry, Jin, you're never living this one down. "...Try to leave Rot-tooth with most of his limbs in one piece. Not /too/ many, mind. He's a good customer. Make sure he can at least walk and beg for my services after you're done with him." The almighty coin is the first amongst Saja's considerations. He looks away as if ignoring Jinora's outburst politely. More booze incoming, and downed. He sets out coin, paying for the beleaguered Major's drinks. "No." He starts. A tilt of his head. "I think this village is in for a different sort of excitement. With you lot working on your own affairs, there is much to be done." A bite of a lip, and he purses his muzzle. "A friend once told me that stagnation is worse than any death. This village has been stagnant for far too long, don't you think?" A tilt of his head in thought.

She regrets it all immediately, but Jinora can hardly take back the kind words with a lead so tangible in her paw. A lead that bleeds - that /will/ bleed - for the terror inflicted upon the Patrol and the Village, not to mention her favorite Tavern worker. Perhaps especially her favorite Tavern worker. "Rot-too- bloody 'ells above an' below, I was kiddin'. Now 'e loses all 'is limbs." Even as Saja speaks, her brain is in a different place - she will have to pull hares for this shake-down, fighters preferably. Perhaps Bobbin; Dominik would be ideal, but in his condition... "Wha'? Oh, aye - well, s'Halyahd fer ya. It is as tis allays been." ...Blast, if so many hares weren't still off in Mossflower, she would be able to bring Tarsa - and on the laments go. But something of Saja's tone gives her pause, and her eyes uncloud from their distant laundry to-do list. "Somethin' tells me I will no' like where this is goin'."

There's a big, big sigh, and Saja holds out his handpaws in a helpless shrug with shoulder and paws. "Maybe I will expand into funerary services after all. I stayed at the Abbey several times, that practically makes me an ordained priest. Poor Rotty, alas, I hardly knew ye!" The gaping hole where things like scruples and morality would be in most other beasts is a chasm in this fox. He goes back to puffing as the Major grinds her mental gears. "You strike upon my exact point, my friend. I am fond of this seaside village of vermin and woodlanders. No offense to your stalwart watch over it...but if Halyard ever wishes to grow from a /village/ into a /city/, then it needs to exist by it's own means. A place of vermin and woodlanders can only be ran by vermin and woodlanders who care." He snaps his fingers. Smile. "I'm going into politics." Four words likely to chill the soul.

A knowing smirk flits across Jinora's muzzle before it disappears behind her tankard's rim. "Real encouragin' t'see th'protections ye offah y'friends, sah." She laughs, but as he continues with his plans... Well, those are words she never thought to hear. "Ye cannae be serious." The doe blinks. The pretty vision of a world of vermin and woodlanders living in peace... She's pretty sure that it's nothing but a pipedream, an anomaly where tenuous peace may blossom here and there, but his words hardly seem to sway her. "I cannae say ye don't seem th'type, though."

"Pragmatism is life, sweet hare. /That/ is the lesson that you glorious mountain hares have never once learned. ...Maybe it's why you fascinate me so much. We may as well be living in two different worlds." He almost sounds sad about the whole thing. A brush of headfur out of his gaze. "...Doubting me? Wonderful. I will enjoy the look on your face, Major, when I prove myself right. Halyard can be more than it is right now. Shipping lanes, proximity to a great military power...opportunity abounds. Right now you stand above a mere drifting mercenary such as myself. Soon? We will stand on the same heights." He drops a stack of coin and polishes off his drink. "Enjoy your night on me. I look forward to dancing with you." Wink. And then he's gone, scarf swaying as he strides home.

As Saja leaves, Jinora lets her forehead press into the tips of her fingers. "I shoulda killed 'im." She laments before ordering another drink. She has a feeling that she needs it.

Lutea · 2018-11-08 03:10:41 PM

It was Death
Ft. Ironbark, Jinora as GM
The Dunes:

Night bends to kiss the shore, parting its lips with a gasp of chilled, coastal air. The moon, nearly full, shows her face only intermittently in a sky made starless by the thick cloud cover as the Western Shores submit to the calm of night. Few, if any, wander the beaches once the sun begins setting - scared off by the rumors of ghosts and ghouls haunting the dunes after dark... Who knows what waits for those foolish enough to try?

Ironbark is maybe foolish, or insane, can he be both? It's clear he has been in a fight as he limps now, a bandage on upper leg and the tip of his ear is missing. He has decided to not stick around the area and to get back elsewhere, only he has gotten a little loss in the dunes as he founds. "Ok...got to be..somewhere...right, the path to the river?" Talking more to himself of course.

He may be speaking to himself, but Ironbark's word do not go unanswered. "The river?" A voice answers him, sounding strangely distant and echoed in a location that should not echo sound at all. "Is isssssss this way!" The directions are followed by a giggle, a chilled, soulless laugh that grows in volume - until suddenly going silent. No sound follows, save for that of the waves against the shoreline, and the wind softly humming through the dunes.

Ironbark jumps and looks around quickly and frowns, "I have lost me mind...." Then he has been through a lot the past few weeks.He decides it's just the wind playing tricks on him and he limps hopefully away from the noise, he has no weapon, wait he did find a rock so he has that as he picks it up and looks around "If ya be those slavers..you can go away, tried of ya lot"

"It looks familiar." The voice calls again, sounding off eerily close to Ironbark's shoulder - but should he turn around, there will be nobeast there. "Because we've met before!" A different voice answers, cackling. "Oh it'ssssss him!" One voice calls, giggling childishly from behind a dune. "It issss." Another answers, equally gleeful. The voices build upon each other, none seeming to come from any one place at all - it's impossible to tell if the voices belong to a male or female, nor is it possible to gauge how old the speakers are... They simple /are/. "It is! You look lost... Come, come - the river is here, the river is safe... You will be sssssssafe in the river! Ahehehe!"

Ironbark gulps as he looks behind him quickly and trows the rock towards where the voice was and backs up triping once and quickly standing back up "G..go away...leave me alone I..I can find the blooming river on me own!" He decides not to go towards teh voices, they do seem familar and now he is starting to panic. He shivers and looks left, right and behind him as he starts to limp , hopefully away from them.

"Master didn't /want/ this one before." A raspy chortle announces, just as Ironbark starts trying to flee. "But this has /changed/! It has changed! It has changed!" The disembodied voices begin to chant, and a gust blows a cascade of sand off the top of one of the dunes, momentarily choking the air with sediment. When the wind dies down, a trio of twisted, ruined vulpines are silhouetted atop the dune - the shortest one, in the center, lifts a bow and notches an arrow to it. "Master wants him now." It whispers.

Ironbark coughs and then his eyes widen "Y..you...not you again!!" He backs up and looks ready to bolt, "I..I won't make a good slave, trust me" He lets a whimper escape him, least he can see the foxes, are they foxes?

"Master doesn't need anymore slaves." The voice whispers in response, letting its arrow fly. It buries into the sand near the squirrel's paw, and the sand sizzles dangerously - there is something coating the weapons. The two foxes flanking the archer giggle again. "Is it slavers you run from?" The beast on the right asks. The other, its twisted face splitting slowly into a grin as the moon peeks from behind the clouds, illuminating the terrifying figures, leans forward. "Or... Is it death?"
In the silver light of the moon, the squirrel is awarded a clearer view of the beasts - they look to have branches bursting from their backs and their sides, and in places their fur is hanging and burnt away. Their teeth are blackened and their pupils far too wide to be normal - they are all grinning as the archer notches another arrow and lets fly.

Ironbark shivers and is unable to move, as the arrow hits the sand and seems to melt the sand or burn it maybe he backs up best he can, "W..W..What are..."He tenses up as the arrow hits him in the arm and he goes to pull it out, weather tha'ts a good idea or not remains to be seen.He knows one thing, he likely should try and run away.

"See?" The archer says, flashing black, rotted teeth. "It is /death/." It points a claw at the squirrel as he lays, terrified in the sand. "Go." It whispers to the beasts at its side, and the two other foxes rush forward. When they run toward Ironbark, they look like leaves blown in the wind - their limbs just don't move the way they should, they jerk and twitch... But they move so quickly. They are fast approaching the squirrel - one holds a dagger, the other a spear. "Bring him back for master." The archer whispers.

Ironbark backs up and screams in pain as his arm burns badly, he holds his arm and fights back tears what is going on? He quickly opens a flask of water to pour onto the wound and looks around wildly as the fox things get closer and shivers as the pain and burning get worse. He also starts to feel weaker as he falls sideways and groans as he lays on his back and shivers holding his arm...."No....."He speaks quietly.
As Ironbark screams, the wind shifts the clouds once more, cloaking the beach in inky darkness. The shadows of the two foxes come to a sudden, jolting stop and stand beside the shivering, whimpering squirrel in the sand. Their heads twitch and jerk as they stare down at him, as if curious, as if savoring the fear and torment they cause. But only for a moment. The dagger-beast is still, but their companion lifts their spear, its point poised over Ironbark's middle. "Yes." They whisper... And bring the weapon down.

Ironbark can't pull away, the poison has made him weak and his vision blurred by tears of fear and pain, his arm still feels like it's on fire and then when the spear is brought down all feelings end after a mere second or two.The squirrel is dead now, his blood coating the sand under him.

"Bring him to master." The two beasts speak in unison, giggling. The archer is gone, nowhere to be seen, and the two foxes take Ironbark by the ankles and drag him away with them, leaving a trail of blood that will be gone come morning. He could run from the slavers... But he could not run from death.

Lutea · 2018-11-11 08:01:20 PM

Good Hop, Bad Hop
Ft. Riley, Jinora
Halyard Village:

Though the Long Patrol no longer patrols the streets of Halyard on official business, there has been an exception made in the matter of the ghastly, ghoulish beasts haunting the Western Shores. Major Tottheim, on the information included in a list from Saja the fox, has brought but one beast with her to do, what she described herself as: 'dirty work and intimidation tactics'. But they've threatened patrollers, they would have killed Dominik had it not been for quick-thinking and a skillful pair of beasts in the Village. It wasn't hard to have this approved.
So, now they are here. The building itself is little more than a ramshackle beach shack, typical of Halyard construction. "Allegedly, this is th'business of one 'Rottooth'. We need t'find out who 'es been sellin' these to." The parchment is passed off to Riley: it contains a list of venoms and strange herbs, poisons, and corrosives usually reserved for the act of smithing. Ergot, Wolve's Breath, Tendril of the Dark Forest, spider venoms... "We shake 'em down, we find who is buyin' tha' lot, we find our... Ghosts." Is she convinced? It isn't clear. Jinora, though she does her best to hide it, has been thouroughly rattled by the foxes since day one. If Martin the Warrior can aid the beasts of Redwall, who is to say that vermin ghosts wouldn't do the opposite? She pushes the thought from her mind. "Ready?"

The runner might be an odd choice. Riley Whorlbuck is short and unassuming doe, but she's dressed the part. Instead of her patrol uniform she is in a toad-leather jacket. which makes her a bit uncomfortable as she scratches at the collar of the jacket made up of long-dead beast. Weapons line the thick belt that wraps around her waist. One shortsword and two knives, along with a third knife tucked into the wrist gauntlet under the jacket sleeve. Riley tugs the hood up around her ears and glances over the parchment with a narrowed-eye expression. "Ready, Majah," she agrees grimly.

Jinora, though taller than Riley, couldn't look roguish if she tried - her danger comes strictly from the pressed uniform of a Long Patrol official and the saber that hangs at her side. She pauses with her paw on the door and passes a quick look up and down her fellow Patroller. "I cannae decide if th'jacket works fer ye'r not." She smirks before throwing the door wide and storming inside. Inside, the shack looks much as it did on the outside: a bucket sits on the floor near the door, half-full of stinking water from the last rain... Or the one before that? Jinora puts a paw over her nose and grimaces in disgust. Rottooth himself, a one-legged pine marten with surprisingly adequate dental hygiene, is seated behind the counter, his boots resting on its surface. He leaps upright when the Long Patrol and some apparent assassin enters. "Thought ye weren't 'ere botherin' ol' Rottooth anymores, ya long-eared slops! I ain't done nothin'!" He jabs an accussing claw at them. "G-Ge' out!"
Jinora crosses the shack in three long strides and slams her paws against the counter. "Si'down." She growls. "Or m'associate 'ere will see t'yer legs in'a way tha' won't leave ye much choice."

Riley steps into the shack, her nose wrinkling at the foulness of the place. "Thinkin' don' seem like yer bloody strong suite, stinksack." Her hand goes to the sword on her belt and she stomps in closer. "Gonna let m'associate ask yeh some questions, huh? An' yer gonna answer 'em."

Rottooth stares, terrified at Riley a moment before his eyes roll back up towards Jinora. "Fine." He snarls, dropping back into his seat. "But don' think Rottooths no snitch, eh. Y'ain't gettin' nothin' outta me that's... That's what yer gonna get!" Jinora rolls her eyes and slaps the list down in front of him. He stares at it a moment before his gaze slowly rolls back up to the hares. "This sposed t'mean somethin' t'Rottooth?" He demands, obviously unable to read. The Major groans. "Slashah." She sighs, motioning to Riley. "I 'ave t'read 'im what we're lookin' for. If ye think he's lyin, best set t'work on th'leg 'e 'as left." She stoops low to mock-whisper. "Staht with th'toes."

"Ergot. Who ye sold it to? Wolve's Breath. Ye sold any spider venoms? Tendril of th'Dark Forest? Poppy Oil? Anythin' fer metal workin'?" He shakes his head violently. "Rottooth'd remember tha', he would! Rottooth ain't sold none'a that - w-well." He looks to Riley, gulping. "Th'Poppy Oil, yeah. T-To a couple beasts! Bu' it's popular! But!" He shrinks away from the smaller hare. "Lavish th'fox was braggin' about sellin' enough poison t'some dignitary what t'put Rottooth outta business! Ye... Ye should go bother /'im/! Cut /'is/ toes off, ye should! Rottooth don't know nothin'!"

Riley snarls, snatching the larger of the two knives from her belt. She grips it in her paw, glaring down at the weasel. But... he begins to talk and she stays her paw for now. "Wot beasts did /you/ sell to, huh? Dun' you gather we /know/ 'bout Lavish?" Riley spits a wad to the dirty floor. "I know it's neigh impossible fer ya, but /think hard/, yellow throat."

The vermin shrinks away from Riley. "L-Lotsa beasts! Rottooth promises! Talk t'Lavish, I ain't go' nothin'. M'stores'a ergot an'... An'... All tha' - check 'em! S'hardly a market fer it! Ain't nobeast tha' hardcore! Rottooth swears, he does!" Shaking, he looks pleadingly at the short doe. "D-don't even get no names normally, don't you know how Halyahd work? R-Rottooth jus' does 'is business an' gets on with 'is life, bu' I ain't sold... Sold /all/ tha' stuff yer askin' about." Jinora sighs, glaring down at the marten. "Where cin we find this 'Lavish'?" Lending credit to the marten's story, the name was one of the ones Saja gave her. "On North Street!" Rottooth whimpers. "Please don' take Rottooth's toes."

Riley snorts with distaste, standing back and flipping the knife skillfully in her paw before glancing to Jinora. "Pity," she sighs. "Toe bones make good button toggles." Her eyes slide back to the pine marten. "Keep in mind I know exactly where tah find you in this smear of ah town, got it?"

Halyard Village: North Street:
After a good deal of nodding and simpering and pleading from the marten that did, eventually, lead to more detailed directions to the beast in question, the two hares find themselves at the business of the fox, Lavish. In a stark contradiction to the shack they came from, this place looks, or at least attempt to look, as if it lives up to the name of the beast who owns it. The wood is well patched and there is even a chair set up on the porch, near a reed mat that marks the front entrance. "Care t'take th'lead on this one?" Jinora asks, gesturing with a flourish and a bow towards the door.

"Wot, I didn't last time?" Riley asks with a cocked brown. She smirks, turning towards the door and bracing. "Also, I look /damn good/ in this getup." BAM. The door is kicked in and Riley storms in with a rage of a noise. "LAVISH." The knife is out.

Inside, the shop shows an obvious affinity for the finer things in life. A plush rug is draped in the center of the room, strange scents drift from exotic lanterns and carvings that hang from the ceilings; the fox himself sits on a cushion, spread on the ground beside a strange, glass vase on a box. A coal burns softly on top of it, and the fox holds a glass mouthpiece that attaches to the vase with some pliable fabric and plant material - Jinora has seen them at the Smoking Den from time to time, but they're incredibly expensive. Lavish himself doesn't seem too surprised at Riley's entrance, rather he gives her a fiendish, winning smile and pats a cushion beside him. "Ah, welcome. How is it that I may help you fine beasts?" Smoke curls out of the all-black fox's muzzle as he speaks, his eyes half-lidded.

The doe heaves a breath. "Answers," she spits. "We need answers. Talk 'round town is you've got blood on yer paws, an' we're here tah sniff it out." Her adorable little hare nose sniffs widely at this. Riley doesn't look around the ornate room, instead allowing her eyes to bore into the fox.

Lavish holds up his paws briefly, and then slips the mouthpiece back into his muzzle. "Well." He speaks around it. "Looks like you're the type with more than a little blood on your paws. I didn't know the Patrol was pairing themselves with such distasteful sorts these days." He smirks again, yellow eyes not wavering from Riley's hard gaze. Jinora steps forward with the list of undesireable substances and lays a paw on the Private's shoulder. "Woah there, Slaughtah. We don' want t'disrupt th'beast's business too much." She gives a simpering, professional smile. "We jus' need some information, s'all." She offers the list out. "Anybeast buyin' all this?" She asks, and then frowns. "An' please be 'onest... Slaughtah, she... Gets th'job done, bu' I'm real sick'a cleanin' up aftah. Hate t'see such a fine cahpet ruined." The fox turns that unreadable grin back upon Riley before letting his gaze lazily drop to the list. "Hmmm..."

"I do wot they won't, ya keen?" Riley growls and straightens just a touch as she allows Jinora to take over. Her ear ticks back at Jinora but she remains silent for just a short moment. "Faster," the doe grunts. "You seem like a beast who knows time is money."

"Very keen - patience, madam... Slaughter, was it? Oh, I do, my dear. Time is money... Especially when you are paid by the hour." The fox smirks up at Riley, taking another long draw and exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. "I am afraid that I will not be of much help. My supplier of ergot dried up about two months ago. Said he no longer required my business." He props himself up on his elbow and waves with the mouthpiece towards a desk. It's made of fine mahogany. "You may find all of my books and ledgers there to verify this, but oh I /do/ wish I could be of more help." He doesn't sound sincere.

Riley smirks back, her's a little more crazed than the serene fox. Some of the smoke from his pipe has wafted her way and it trails back out of her lungs through her nostrils as she widens her eyes just a /touch/. "You know wot they called me in Northsward? The Mad March hare." Her knife lifts, angling at it the fancy pipe on a box near the fox. "But I dun' /always/ gotta murder." Suddenly the knife flies and the water pipe launches off it's perch and explodes! "Sometimes I can 'urt a beast in other ways. Now /tell the bloody truth/, because this encounter is startin' tah cost you money, ya /keen/?"

Lavish doesn't react as Riley "Slaughter", the Mad March hare, destroys his water pipe. With a sigh, he carefully sets the mouthpiece down and pushes himself to his knees and then his feet, brushing himself off. "This was hardly necessary, Madam Mad March. As I have told you, I am no longer /capable/ of acquiring not only ergot, but Wolves' Breath as well, as my supplier now refuses to sell to me." He crosses to the desk and opens a drawer, pulling a journal out of it. He closes the drawer quickly before dropping the book onto the desk. "Here are my ledgers. Every sale, every copper. Jinora taps a paw on the desk. "I am /terribly/ sorry abou' th'mess, good sah. I implore ya t'tell us /everythin'/ ye know - I really... 'Ave no authority ovah 'er."

Riley's lips curl as she watches the water spread onto the rug with her ears twitching under her hood. Her eyes snap to Lavish and she watches him move to the desk. After a moment she hobbles after, eyeing the book with almost an aire of distrust. "You know I dun' read," the doe grouses at Jinora. "Wot's it say, patrollah?"

Jinora, lazily thumbing through the pages, sighs. "Numbahs, names, plants. Seems... In ordah." Her eyes narrow and her gaze flicks back up to the fox. "Surprisin'ly legal ventah ya got, Lavish." She whistles through her buck teeth. "Commendable, commendable. Could use more beasts like ye aroun' 'ere. Bu' I don' see anythin' abou' th'ergot? Ye said yer supplier stopped supplyin', bu' s'hardly a mention of it in yer books." Lavish sighs, raising his paws. "Ah, ye caught me. Please, leave my limbs intact." He winks at Riley. "Ergot is hardly something I want on my books, so please, forgive the transgression. This on the shelf behind me is all that is left of my stocks of all that you've mentioned - though I haven't carried these weapon tarnishes in quite some time. I'm afraid that, because of my dastardly supplier, I shall be /quite/ the legitimate business in a few weeks time." He sighs wistfully.

Riley glowers at Lavish as he winks at her. She turns, heading over to gather up her thrown knife. She makes no move to avoid broken glass, treading through it without wincing as it cracks under her heel. With it back into her paw she turns again, facing the pair and finally glancing around the room to make not of anything out of place.

Lavish, it seems, is finally shaken by Riley. Wincing as she stomps across his carpet, likely leaving blood on it. "Alright, fine. I will tell you how to find my supplier, /former/ supplier... At least where he /used/ to be. I daresay you may find more answers from him than from me." He bows deep before pulling a spare piece of parchment from a drawer. He draws a map. "He did, of course, make things rather difficult for me with his sudden... Dismissal of my business. It forced me to some unsavory ends - I would be happy to help you take such dishonest and backstabbing scum off the market." He takes a long puff. "Or the streets, rather. For the good of Halyard and the Mountain, both." He winks at Jinora, this time, and hands the map to the Major. "Now... Please stop messing up my shop. That coal is going to leave quite the mark."

Riley just sort of stares. It's a manic, deadpan sort, and she doesn't appear to even notice the shards of glass in her foot. As soon as Jinora is handed the paper she marches to the door, leaving spots of blood behind her. "One more thing," the doe remarks, turning to jerk-nod to Jinora. "We'll be takin' the rest o'that Ergot."

"Good thinkin', Slaughtah." Jinora nods, stomping past Lavish, his jaw clenched. "Thank ye for yer business, sah." The major simpers, following Riley out the door, stepping around the spots of blood she's left behind. "Sorry fer th'mess." Once outside and safely out of sight of Lavish's business, the Major sighs and drops to a knee beside Riley. "Tha'." She breathes. "Was bloody terrifyin'. Let me ge' th'bloomin' glass from yer feet, ya wondahful lunatic."

As soon as they're out and away from Lavish's, Riley sinks against the wall of a building, letting out a moan. "Gods, I almost cried in front of him. It hurts, bloomin' /'ell/, it hurts!" Her eyes screw closed and she whimpers as she nudges her bloodied paw at Jinora. "Yeh wanted intimidatin', Majah. I dun' do nothin' 'alf arsed."

Choking back a laugh, Jinora tugs at the pouch on her belt. She is useless as a healer, but at least did learn in her recruit training how to patch a laceration. "Private Whorlbuck, yer bloody terrifyin' an' I-" she clears her throat without finishing the thought. "Chew this an' give me yer paws... 'Ow about we grab ye some boots on th'way t'this 'suppliah', lest we 'ave ye gettin' all weepy in front of 'em." She has bandages and a strange shoot of plant (which is what is offered to Riley). "Ain't perfect, bu' I'll carry ye if I 'ave ta." She winks, teasing - though it's clear she would.

Riley takes the plant, sticking it between her buck teeth and chatter-chewing it into her mouth. She wads it up and sticks it into her cheek, chewing thoughtfully. The doe lets her head rest back and attempts not to whimper as the glass is fished out. "No boots. M'good. If it breaks back open and bleeds again, only helps th' image, dun it?" Riley puts on a strained smile and crawls back to her feet. "M'a lil' terror, I am. Got th' blood o'the grand ol' patrol in m'blood." She stamps on the hurt foot to prove it. "Let's go."

Jinora shakes her head with a smirk. "Tough as nails, Patrollah. Careful, yer like t'find yerself promoted if ye keep tha' attitude up." She winks, knowing the doe's reluctance. "C'mon, map says it's in th'bally swamp." There is plenty of daylight left to make the journey to the swamp, though there will likely not be enough time to make it back to the Mountain after, when night falls. Another night of Halyard's inn looks to be in store for the pair of Patrollers.

The Swamp:
"Bally stink-pit, this place." Jinora breathes deep, scratching nervously at her neck. The Major hasn't been in the swamp since she escaped it some seasons past - a phantom ache in the leg the snake crushed throbs at every step. "Let's find this bloody suppliah an'get our scuts back t'the Tavern fer a stiff drink, eh? Looks like this is th'place." The cabin, if it can be called that, juts lopsided from the muck of the swamp. Smoke curls from the chimney and vines crawl up the building, covering cracked and foggy windows. "Dun' like this." She mutters as they near the door.

"M'/obviously/ too unhinged tah be promoted!" Riley counters at Jinora, sounding rather offended by the idea. She follows after the Major, not having the same bad association with the place... but it doesn't appear as if she's enjoying herself, either. Her hood, around her shoulders now and allowing her ears to be up and alert, hone in on the shack. "Really?" Riley snorts at laugh. "Brilliant vacation spot iffen yeh ask me." The doe motions at Jinora. "Your turn."

Jinora smirks and gives a mock curtsie to the other doe. "As y'wish." CRACK! The door, made soggy and warped by the humid environment, doesn't open as Jinora kicks it in... It splinters. A shout of 'HELLSTEETH!' is heard from inside, and the Patroller rears back and throws her shoulder against the ruined door, bursting through on the second hit. "Alrigh' keep yer paws where we cin see 'em, scum!" She growls, immediately ducking as a dagger zips their way. It buries into the wood of the doorway. The "supplier" is a rat - a mottled colored beast wearing a thick cloak. She hisses at the two hares, and makes to leap out the window behind her, shattering the glass with her elbow first.

Riley steps in an over the rotted door bits, her sword out this time. Riley leaps in the direction of the rat, grabbing at her tail to yank her back. "Good try, ya feral worm. My employer needs t'talk to you, understand?"

The rat is yanked from the window and slams to the ground with a hiss. She flips over to her back and flings another dagger at Riley, her arms bloody from the broken window. The room itself is packed, floor to ceiling, with all manner of plant, herb, and crystal. Several cauldrons bubble over low flames, making the room even smokier and more humid.

Riley ducks, but the long side of the blade strikes her jacket, leaving a thinned scuff on it. "Oooh, wrong move." Riley stamps a foot down on the rat's throat. "We know you talk. Even livin' out here. You talk 'cause you sell tah beasts, that right? Poison an' the like?"

The rat struggles beneath Riley's foot, her mouth opening and closing uselessly as she tries, and fails, to take in breathes. A paw goes to her side, and the rat pulls a dirk from her belt - how many weapons are /on/ this beast?! She tries to stab it into Riley's thigh, movements growing weaker.

The blade sinks in and Riley leans in to the rats face without flinching. "Was that supposed tah hurt?" she demands of the rat with her head tilting in a ghoulish way. Blood trickles from the blade, bubbling around the base. "You aren't the only one who dabbles in the dark." At this, Riley allows some of the spit built up from the plant stock dribble out of her mouth, red as fresh beets. "I'm going to let off my foot a little, witch. And then you'll answer our questions." Her foot lifts, just enough to allow air to pass through the rat's gullet.

The rat gasps, her eyes wide with fear. "Demon!" She manages to gasp out, her voice hoarse and pained, wincing as the spit flicks on her cheek. Jinora stands back, her eyes wide and paw on her saber, staring at the hilt of the weapon protruding from her Patroller's thigh. "Asssssssk yer quessstions, demon."

"That's right," the doe-demon replies with a harsh curl of her lips. "You have been granting powers to certain beasts who have not earned them," Riley hisses. Her head twists on her neck mose, eyes wide and bloodshot. "Powers do not /come/ from nowhere, witch. You know this. They must be sourced. You have angered the source." Her foot pumps on the rat's neck for emphasis. "Whooo are these false demon fox, rat? You sold your wares to those who seek to play in magic they did not earn!" Riley's tongue flickers and she pushes more of the root red out of her mouth, letting it dribble down the corners of her mouth. "Ergot, ergot, the gift of famine! Venom of the eight legged ones, servants of my master! Tendrils of the Dark Forest, my prison and tomb. /WHO ARE THEY, WITCH/? They must die for their errors, so your servitude to my deed will grant you life!"

The rat's eyes are wide with terror, and her body shaking so violently that it's a wonder that she can speak at all. "N-No! Please! It - they would have killed me otherwise! You know n-n-not what you messsss with, demon!" The rat paws weakly at the paw against her throat. "H-He comes... Once a week.." The witch finally gasps out. "He... He keeps his hood up but I can /feel/ the ghosts within him. H-" She shrinks away from Riley more. "He comes from the water, only when the moon has - has pulled the waves away from the cliffs. I can hear their screams, the souls he's trapped." She swallows, her throat bulging beneath Riley's foot. "It is all I know, demon!"

Riley's lips pull back, revealing red stained teeth. "He is false," she chatters. "False demon! Never having stepped foot in the Dark Forest. Can you smell it on me, witch? I reek of death!" But she rises, lifting up her foot off the rat's neck. "You have served well, rat. This will be remembered, ayyye. Begone from this place when the waves have peeled from the cliff like flesh from bone. Begone and I will dispose of this curse on your hide!" Riley backs up with crazed eyes on the rat. She reaches down, yanking the blade from her thigh and letting it drop uselessly to the floor. "I release this beast. Let them go, witch, let them go. I will need her body again." And then Riley crumples into a heap, passed out from the loss of blood.

Jinora lunges forward with her arms outstretched, falling to one knee to help brace the impact as Riley collapses. "Haven't ye used 'er enough?!" She cries to the empty air of the cabin, trying her best to go along with this. Riley is a much better actor than her. "Tell nobeast of this, or we will end ye." She growls to the rat, the witch already scrambling out the door of her own home. The Major pulls Riley into a fireman's carry to make the walk easier, but before she leaves the cabin, takes a chunk of wood from the ruined door and lights it with the flame a cauldron. She drops the flaming wood to the middle of the floor - getting rid of the supply. Hopefully, they can make it to Halyard and the clinic before the sun sets, the light of the burning cabin growing more distant behind them.

Lutea · 2018-11-21 10:57:36 AM

The Next Life
Ft. Tarsa, Jacenta, Dominik, Zolomon, Varus, Jinora as GM
A Cavern in the Cliffs:

Following a lead provided by Saja, a fox - and now politician - that has shown to be of use, if not a friend, to the Long Patrol (so far, at least), the hares have managed to uncover many secrets that laid to rest some of the illusions that have culminated into the legend of 'Ghost Foxes' or "Drewlyyd", as some have been calling them. Following that lead, Major Tottheim and Private Whorlbuck tracked down a 'friend' to the foxes, and the information that the 'demon hare' Riley managed to scare out of the old rat witch turned out to be invaluable... The ghoulish foxes haunting the Western Shores make their home in a cavern, one which is only accessible at low tide.

The full moon gleams, wide and bright, over the small knot of Long Patrollers that make their way to those cliffs now: Major Tottheim leads the way, the doe's expression grim as her boots dig into sand made damp and hard by the retreating sea. Anybeast present would have been briefed on the task at paw: invade the cave, capture or kill any hostile vermin living there, and put an end to this madness once and for all. The entrance to the cavern is well hidden, but the Major pauses and stoops to pluck something from the sand... It's a feather, black as night. "We're close." She mutters to her patrol, and before long, they find themselves staring into a deep crack in the cliffside, worn and washed by the waves.

Tarsa came along, she is a high ranking officer after all, even if she has yet to see these strang foxes, she is here to help fight them.She has her torch and flint and has made sure whom ever else needs some, has some.
Jacenta is starting to wish she stayed home but its too late to turn back now, and too dark to travel back alone abyways. A healer may or may not be needed after all, correct.

Dominik is not far behind the Major; upon hearing that there would be an expedition to search out the dark foxes, the large hare was the first to volunteer for some strange reason. Dominik had gone full warpaint this time, the intimidating buck having streaked his mahogany fur with charcoal, the lines covering both eyes and trailing up his forehead, then meeting just behind his ears. His eyes are steely and cold, and he has not said a word since leaving the mountain. To Jinora's words, he gives a silent, ominous nod, before waiting for further instructions.

Zolomon has his long bow, quiver of arrows and stays close to the others. He is ready or as ready as one can be. The night darkness doesn't see to worry him too much.

Varus takes up the rear, and he berates a few stragglers who are slower than the rest. Resting his paw on the handle of his sword, he goes quiet when Jinora speaks, his ears perked to catch any possible noises. He's keen to put an end to all this superstitious nonsense once and for all.

Staring into the crack, Jinora sighs: it's a tight fit. "I'll go fahst an' give ye th' all clear. Wait fer m'signal." She disappears a moment... Seconds pass in silence before the young Major's voice floats back through the crack. "Follow in, s'a wee bit tight." The rock walls of the crevice are slimy and oppressive, forcing the hares to move through in a damp, miserable single file. After a stretch of about seven feet, the walls open to a wide, yawning cavern: it is pitch black, save for the silver strip of moonlight that pours in through the entrance, and once Jinora lights her torch with a grimace, casting a small orb of light about a dingy, grimy scene.

The bottom of the cavern is never fully dry, leaving the sea-water at about ankle height. Wooden cages are thrown haphazardly around the entrance niche they find themsleves in... Some of them hold skeletons, obviously fox in origin. It smells of rot, salt, and something far more sinister. There is only one way forward - a tunnel that leads deeper into the cliffside. "Light y'tahches." The Major growls, ears pinned back and an expression of disgust splashed across her face. They'll have to go in further. "Feels like a bally ambush, all me furs on end..." She grumbles to Varus, glaring into the dark tunnel that awaits them.

Tarsa frowns but waits on the signal and slowly makes her way inside.She is careful and stays very alert, and queit as she walks along, she makes a face at what is seen and lights a torch to at least get rid of some of the darkness inside here.She shakes her head, clearly dislikeing this place already.

Jacenta at first is unsure of going but gulps and follows on inside once its clear to go on in.She shivers a little and seems to go a little faster, or as fast as one can go in such..close..quarters, she gulps again and quickly lights her tourch, it doesn't light the first try, it lights the 2nd try and she just stays very quiet, ears down as this place is just too closed in.

Dominik manages to squeeze himself into the tunnel just barely, and once inside he lights up his torch as instructed. As the light illuminates the area around him, he jumps in surprise as a snarling fox is revealed within a close vicinity. Holding in a shout of surprised, he manages to hold himself back from pulverizing its face with his fist once he realizes that they are not being attacked, and that it is actually already dead. Peering closely at the impaled fox and squinting, Dom gives a disgusted shake of his head as he yanks the arrow from its shoulder...which he tosses to Zolomon. "Agree," he responds to Jinora, but says nothing else.

Zolomon enters, again dark don't brother him but he will still light his torch, he looks up and manages to catch the arrow and arches an eyebrow at why it's thrown at him.He studies in closely as he whispers quietly"This is one of my arrows...has to be one of the foxes I managed to bally welll shoot that one day"He makes sure his voice is low enough for just the hares near him to hear, but mainly like Varus and jinora for sure to hear him.

Varus is not nearly as fit as he was in younger days, so the narrow gap is something of a squeeze. Still, the elder hare gets through, and sighs, as his eyes adjust to the dark, just before everybeast starts lighting torches. "Aye, it's always a bloomin' ambush, though, y'know. Don't let yer guahd down, wot." He holds out his own torch toward Dominik's, so that it gets lit as well. "Let's just 'ope this cave don't 'ave a back entrance, wot, or this'll be a bloody useless endeavah..."

"Nice shot, Private." Jinora nods, obviously impressed, as she glances first at the ghastly sight of the dead fox against the wall (his corpse crumples as soon as Dominik removes the arrow), and then to Zolomon. "Let's keep goin', aye? Private Longfur, look alive." She gives another grim nod to Varus' input - but they have no way of knowing, they can only hope. As they pick their way through the tunnel, it's apparent that this entire section can become flooded at the tide's highest point: everything is damp, and even though they are obviously moving uphill, that rot and slick, slimy dampness is pervasive and makes it tricky to maneuver. Small cracks and holes in the stone, perhaps homes for crabs or other little creatures, are visible - but the most noticeable feature is the eerie silence. Jinora pauses in her tracks to swipe reflexively at her ear, as if something has brushed past her - but nothing is there. "Still clear." She mutters, softly. Maybe nobody is home?

Tarsa stays close, quiet, as she studies the area.She frowns but nods when it's mentioned it's still clear but she still feels a little uneasy in here.

Dominik allows Varus to light his torch using his own, before the buck continues onwards with the others. Holding the torch out in front of him, Dom scans the area slowly, keeping both eyes and ears alert for any suspicious noises or movements. His ear twitches as if a breeze had suddenly sprung up in the cavern, and he whips his head around to search for the source, eyes darting this way and that. Still, there is nothing, and with a frustrated growl, the large buck continues onwards. He seems to be managing the tricky terrain quite well considering his slightly weakened condition, as he seems to have a sole purpose and focus here.

Zolomon grins,He hmms and places the arrow in a side pocket for now and stays alert as he scans the area, some movement...but it's a small...crab maybe, not a fox at least as he ajusts the quiver slightly and stays close to the others.He also has a saber at his side, just in case it's needed.

Varus is making progress very well, considering his age. Following after Dom, he steps further into the dank darkness. Ears alert for the slightest sound, it's just as he's taking a step up to a higher rock that he feels... Something grab his ankle! "Gah! Wot th' 'Ell?" Without even stopping to think, he swipes down with his torch, attempting to get the mangy fox paw to let go. "Oy! Watch for 'oles in th' floor or walls! Keep yer eyes peeled, you lot!" If the paw doesn't retreat, the Major draws one of his daggers, intent on giving the the blind fox below a nice dose of discomfort.

At the heat, the fox does indeed release Varus with a hiss, disappearing back into the hole and disappearing from sight. "Wha' th'/bloody/ 'ellfiah?!" Jinora grimaces, reflexively lifting her own feet a little higher and sweeping her torch this way and that to check for more. "Bloomin' spooks." She grumbles, squaring her shoulders and pushing forward. The tunnel opens up into another cavern... But this one is far livlier.

"Master!" A simpering voice cackles out. "They are HERE! Ahehehe!" All at once, four foxes, twisted and wrong, their shadows thrown in crazy designs across the walls from the torch flames, rush the hares. One leaps straight at Zolomon, two at Dominik, and another at Jacenta.

Tarsa narrows her eyes as she sees the foxes clearly now.She draws out her saber and is ready to attck the foxes if the y get any nearer.She will help the closest hare to her as she swings a torch at any fox too close, and she will stab forwards with her saber at any other fox stuipid enough to venture too close to her.

Jacenta gasps, she already knows it likely be bad to get cut with those weapons if there is any, she backs up and uses one thing she does have, her torch to keep the fox back and maybe, hopefully burn the fox some! She has a dirk but has yet to grab it in her small bit of panic!

Dominik turns for a moment as he hears Varus having a bit of trouble, but as the older hare manages to take care of the issue himself, the large buck turns back around and continues onward. Upon entering the cavern, Dom spots movement. Before he can react, however, the foxes appear, their mere voices enough to incite a wave of anger bubbling up from deep inside his chest. He takes a rather agile step back as he is leapt at, both his paws shooting forward in reaction in an attempt to grab them both by their throats before they can reach him. If successful, he forcefully smashes their heads against one another with a fierce snarl of fury, the buck trembling with his pent up rage.

Zolomon needs both paws for an arrow and one paw holds a torch, that means he will have to use his saber, he is not the best at useing a saber but he can use it and backs up quickly and draws the saber, slices at the fox as it leaps at him and goes to sidestep slightly best he can.If needed he will drop his torch to fire an arrow, but only if it's needed.

Varus harrumps, when the filthy creature disappears, and he presses forward. But then all heck breaks loose, and he's quick to draw his sword, slicing at any vermin that happens to get close.

From the ceiling above Tarsa, another fox drops - his dagger is drawn, and he screams in his insanity, looking to land on the Sergeant! Zolomon's saber nicks the approaching fox who falls back only a step before leaping for the Private again. When it becomes apparent that Jacenta needs help, Jinora grits her teeth and charges the fox attacking the healer. She deftly tosses her torch from her right to her left paw, her right whipping the saber from her belt. "Blood'n vinegah!" She shouts. "Eulalia!" Rushing to the doe's aid - she runs through the fox from behind, her saber bursting from his chest. "Yer a Patrollah, Longfur!" The Major barks as the fox falls, dead. She's whirling as more seem to appear out of nowhere. "Fight back!"

The foxes Dominik grab give strangled gurgles of surprise before they are knocked together, and while one is knocked cold, the other manages to wobble-crawl away on the ground, making for the back of the cavern... There sits what can only be described as a throne, which the pitiful creature now rushes to hide behind. It is made of bones and feathers, and atop it sits the Master. Strange growths - real ones, not the branches his cronies wear - jut from his body. His fur hangs in dieseased slack, one side of his face almost entirely caved in and rotted away. He doesn't... Do anything. Just stares, his one eye wide, his mouth slightly slack - but he almost looks like he is smirking, a trail of drool falling from his chin.

Tarsa heard the insane laugh of the fox, luckly and barely manages to avoid a stab from above,She spins around and goes to slice at the fox's neck before he has a chance to react to the fact he missed her!

Jacenta gulps and nods "Yes..yes"Ok she isnt the bravest hare...ok, that fine,,she steps back a little and frowns, she goes to swing her blazeing tourch at one of theother foxes, the one that happens to be going to jump at Zolomon again, fire is a weapon as well!She also gets to her dirk and grips it tightly as she takes a deep breath, ok she can do this..she can fight, she just needs to stay as calm as she can.

Dominik aims to stomp down hard on the unconscious fox's head as it falls to the ground in front of him. He curses to himself as the other fox manages to crawl away from him while he was concentrating on the first one. Lifting his icy gaze towards the area the fox had crawled to, his eyes fall upon the grotesque creature that sits upon the makeshift throne. Eyes narrowing to slits, Private Dominik draws the sword from the sheath on his back, and he approaches the throne with intent burning within his eyes. "...you," he growls, ears folded back against his head, paw gripping the hilt of his sword tightly as he swings the large blade forward and stops, the tip hovering inches from the fox's face.

Zolomon once more goes to stab at the fox in front of him and at the same time he grins as he goes to purposely slap the fox with the touch he has "Ya need to LIGHTEN..upya ugly mug!"

Varus attempts to lop off the head of one of the foxes as they attempt to flee. He is SO DONE with these filthy vermin, and chopping their heads off doesn't bother him in the least. Taking a nice long look at the decrepit creature on the throne, he can't help but grimace in disgust. "Take a bath now 'n' then, why don't yah?"

As Tarsa swipes at him, the fox leaps back with disturbing speed. She pulls a rapier loose and moves forward to jab back at the doe! "Tricksy bunny!" The vulpine cackles, her head tilted to the side and an unnerving grin plastered across her muzzle. One of the foxes, distracted as he leaps at Zolomon, gives an enraged chatter as he is smashed with a flaming torch! Jacenta has managed to knock the flame into the beast, and set his tunic ablaze - but he doesn't appear to care! He turns away from Zolomon, the fire consuming his clothing and fur until he is completely aflame, and takes a step towards Jacenta. He stretches out a claw, maw hanging open, eyes wide - he takes another step. And another... And then the fire takes him, and he collapses to the ground, dead and still aflame. The head of a fox, relieved of its body by Major Varus, thumps to the floor beside it.

Scattered all around the throne are cages and chains - foxes in varying states of degredation, starvation, and insanity flail and rattle their binds and chew at the wooden cages. "Help!" One, a vulpine in a cage, shouts; she doesn't look as if she's been there that long. On the ground at the Master's feet lies a dead squirrel - it takes Jinora a moment to recognize him. "It's tha' crazy blightah." She breathes out, finding a pause in her own flurry of the fight. Death had come for Ironbark, afterall. As Dominik approaches, the foxes surge to surround the Master, and in the close quarters, one of them starts firing arrows! He skewers one of his fellow foxes through the back, on accident, but none of the mad beasts seem to notice nor care. He aims for Varus, first, and then another for Zolomon, stepping over the body of his slain companion. A vixen launches herself over the back of the throne, twin sabers drawn as she screams and flies towards Dominik, protecting her master.

It is chaos - foxes throw themselves at the Patrollers, arrows fly - but with the body on the ground still burning, at least it is much brighter. Jinora grunts as a dagger nicks her shoulder, and she twists to jab her saber through the offending fox's gut. She rips the weapon free and then drops to a knee, taking another by the hamstrings. She batters his head with the butt of her torch as he hits the ground.

Tarsa narrows her eyes and throws her torch at the fox and slices at the fox again and does a little sidestep.A fox tries to get her from the side and that fox gets stabed in the chest and falls over dead as the hare glares at the foxes around her.

Dominik's complete and utter focus is on the one beast who was the cause of all this chaos...the one beast who had come the closest anyone ever had to ending his life with his cowardly tactics, and his attention does not stray from the leader even as the cave explodes with absolute insanity around him. Slashing and chopping at the foxes as they seem to group around their leader, Dominik seems to be causing a whole lot of vulpine destruction...the dark beasts fall left and right, falling before his blade like blades of really creepy grass as the massive hare's rage-filled howls echo about the chamber.
Attention caught by the vixen flying out of nowhere at him, Dominik swings his sword up and at the vixen, aiming first to defend himself from her extended blades...then if that is successful, he aims another slash to try and cleave her in half.

Jacenta sidesteps and achally manages to stab a fox in the chest, another she kicks in the knee and barely avoids an arrow sinking into her leg.The arrow slams into a dead fox she trips over, the trip helping her to avoid a rather bad slice from a blade of another fox.

Zolomon sidesteps and slices at the fox beside him, In sidesteping the arrow...hits the fox as the hare grins,He also decides to fire off one of his own arrows, aims and sidesteps one fox...fires at one of the foxes in the back, quickly getting another arrow and fireing at another fox that was trying to sneak up on one of the majors!

Varus takes an arrow right in his left shoulder, and he drops his torch, which instantly sets one of the empty cages on fire, the light joining that of the already burning fox. Ignoring the pain, he rips the arrow out and throws it to the floor. Roaring with anger, he lifts his sword, and lunges at the same throng that Dominik is cutting through, hacking and slashing even as his left shoulder bleeds profusely.

Sparks fly from the blades as Dominik and the vulpine's weapons collide midair. The vulpine, foaming at the mouth, uses the force of the parry to leap away. She lands at Dominik's side and rushes forward, stabbing at him with one of her sabers. The Master doesn't react to anything, not at first. "Press 'em back!" Jinora shouts, already she can feel the sweat dampening her brow as the small cut on her arm burns. She doesn't have much time before she ends up in the same state Dominik was in - but she doesn't let this show. Her uniform jacket, red in color, hides the blood seeping through her clothes. The Major grits her teeth and cuts through the writhing bodies, trying to keep close to Jacenta and Zolomon. "Longfur! Get t'Majah Varus!" She shouts, seeing him take an arrow. Likely, she and him will both be making a rushed visit to Saja's magic shop upon leaving...

On the throne, as his foxes fall - one by one - the Master... Starts to laugh. It's a chilling sound, unhinged and /wrong/. It echoes in the cavern, and he only laughs louder. There aren't many foxes left, five in total, and four of them rush away from the hares to surround their master. The fifth, the vixen, continues to attack Dominik, her blades a blur as she slashes, parries, and rolls every which way. "My... Children." The Master finally speaks, his muzzle cracking into a grin, showing rotted teeth and blackened gums. "You... Have served us... Well..." His words are labored, every breathe showing obvious effort. As he speaks, all of the foxes fighting go rigid. Some in chains, some in the cages, doing the same - the one fighting Dominik freezes mid slash, her pupils dilating. "You will... Serve me... In all our lifetimes..." He starts to laugh again, and as one - every one of the affected vulpines... Turn their own weapons on themselves.

The mad Master: a poisoner, a hypnotist, a trickster, grins only wider. "I have... So much help... In this next life..." Jinora, panting and covered in blood - very little of it her own - snarls. "Would some beast please kill 'im?" Behind her, the fox on fire has started to smolder out, though the air is choked with the sickening smell of burnt fur.
Tarsa stabs at another fox that almsot stabs her, luckly the fox missed as she glares and looks towards the so called master fox and snorts.

Jacenta frowns and quickly goes to get to Major Varus, to help best she can and even stabs a fox that tries to stab the Major, she kicks the fox aside and looks at the major's shoulder and frowns deeply.

Dominik steps back and parries the vixen's stabs and blows with skilled, careful movements, the hare's brow now damp with perspiration from the effort as he matches her step for step. He is fully aware of how dangerous those weapons likely are, and he does all he can to drive his opponent back with heavy swings of his sword. He is momentarily taken by surprise as the vixen suddenly takes her own life, thus leaving a wide opening for him to reach the leader again. Not seeming to care about the dark fox's strange words, Dom hears Jinora's plea, and the massive hare is more than happy to oblige his commander. With a roar, Private Dominik leaps forward towards the throne the leader is sitting upon, and he aims to run the creature straight through his throat with a straight, forceful stab forward...he puts all the force he can muster behind the blow, all the pent up rage causing him to see red.

Zolomon fires an arrow at a fox that looks to try and sneak away, teh fox falls to the ground dead.He then quickly goes to to Jinora's side as he knows she will need help back, another will hopefully carry Varus if needed.He stays alert at teh same time, just in case as one never knows in this crepy place.

Varus is running on pure adrenaline at this point, and the Master's talking doesn't stop him from lopping off two more heads. He's in that kind of mood, after all. "Aye, wot Jinora said. Shut tha' beast up..."

With a final laugh, that becomes a sickening gurgle, the horrifying fox slumps back and slides, slowly, from Dominik's blade. His body hits the ground and is motionless. Three foxes, caged or chained, remain - and as the Master dies, they all appear to snap out of a trance. They were only spared taking their own lives because they didn't have weapons at the time. "What... Where am I?" One asks, pressing a paw to his temple. Jinora doesn't move to staunch the bleeding in her arm, it is only a minor cut but she knows the consequences of the weapons - she is, for now, fine. "'Elp Majah Varus." She barks to the hares near her.

The foxes are dead, and they are left with the captive ones... She sighs. "You lot, come with us t'Halyahd." She decides, grimacing as she stoops over the Master's body and fishes keys from his belt - ghosts don't keep keys. The captive vermin are freed in short order, looking absolutely petrified. "If a blade so much as brushed ye, yer comin' with us t'Halyahd. Othahwise?" She looks at the brave Patrollers, and smiles fondly. "Ye've earned a rest an' a drink." Moving towards Varus, she offers an arm and a smile. "Maj, you an' I are abou' t'be in a world of 'urt if we don' hightail it t'that insufferable bushtail."

Dominik breathes heavily, rage still flowing through him as he watches the impaled fox die right before his eyes. Drawing his sword back, Dominik swings it down at the slain fox's head in an attempt to lop it off in one swift movement. Upon the head being separated from the body, the hare rears back with his foot and punts it across the room with as much force as he is able. Shoving the body away with his other foot, the large buck sheathes his sword, seeming to be coming down from the battle rage he had been feeling. Head lowering and eyes holding a spooked expression, Dom silently moves to follow the others back out of the cave, his clothing absolutely drenched in the blood of the foxes he had slain.

Varus huffs, panting. He's starting to feel winded. He might be too old for this. "Well done, Private Dominik." He claps the younger buck on the shoulder. "I guess I need ta get ta Halyahd, wot..."

And thus ends the saga of the haunted foxes! Thanks to everyone who participated!

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