Dawn of a new Day ~open~

[Glavon]

The cold autumn air swirled lazily around Bryce Stonefang the rat warlord's body.

With a harsh shiver, Bryce moved closer to the warm flames of the fire, sticking out his paws to warm them and rubbing them together, letting out a breath of air that puffed out into a mushroom cloud of steamy white smoke. Claw, Dart, and Magus, the rat's two ferret captains and his fox seer, looked at him with concern as he sniffled and sneezed.

Bryce saw their eyes upon him and snarled. "Get up on your paws and prepare my army, you worthless vermin. Get out of my sight!" he hissed viciously, the weather annoying him to the point of anger. The three vermin got up and dashed across the frozen ground to Bryce's army, barking out commands to the sea of rats, stoats, weasels, and foxes.

Minutes later, when the army was settled, Bryce got up, shaking the cold and frost off of his fur and drawing his saber. His keen ears heard the complaining of a rat to his marching partner, a burly stoat. Bryce scowled. So the rat was cold; big deal.

He stuck the blade in the fire, watching it until drips of liquid metal began to form on the blade, then marched to his army, steam curling off the saber. He marched over to the rat and whipped it across the shoulder; it went down with a howl of pain, and the smell of singed fur reached Bryce's sensitive nose.

"Still cold?" he asked the groaning rat, which shook its head. Satisfied, Bryce stalked off to the front of his army.

[Skipper of Sea Otters]

C-c-cold...Why does it have to be so cold... Blade, First mate in the Skipper of Sea Otter's crew thought, rubbing his hands and chest together. He wasn't used to the cold of land-life. It was different being cold at sea. Being cold at sea you had a little bit of humidity to make things a little better.

The Skipper Didn't mind it though. He was tough. Simple Temperature was the least of things on his list of things that bothered him. He held his two cutlass' in his a paws and motioned to his crew of the incoming beast. "Any of ye' make a sound...an'....well...just don't..." Blade said back to his crew. He looked forward to see the Skipper out in the open leaning against a tree. with his cutlass's sheath. Blade sighed. He never was one to make things easy...

"G'day, you fine bunch of ducks!" The Skipper said crossing his arms with his back against the tree resting. His crew stayed quiet and out of sight. "A bit cold ain't it?" he asked looking about at the air.

[Glavon]

Bryce's eyes roved over the thousand or so vermin before he turned with a confident smile to continue the march through the woodlands, when a slight noise caught his ears. Straining to hear, he made out the words, Any of ye' make a sound... before the noise trailed off. The accent sounded like an otter, and Bryce looked in the direction the words had come from to see a large brown sea otter with two cutlasses in his paws. The rat warlord frowned.

G'day, you fine bunch of ducks! A bit cold ain't it? the otter said confidently, eyes watching Bryce, who scowled again and motioned Claw, Dart, and a muscular dust brown and rust orange stoat called Ryhn to stand behind him. He raised his saber to chest level, pointing it at the otter.

"You tired of living, otter?" he ground out angrily, and his ferret captains prepared their weapons; Claw took out a spear, while Dart brandished a longbow and several flint-tipped arrows. Ryhn the stoat removed a cutlass from his belt and poked the tip into the pad of his pointer finger; blood welled up from the cut. The stoat turned to face the Skipper.