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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Jan 11, 2010 23:35:58 GMT -6
The movement pulled at the centers of heat in his body, a taut stretchiness that hurt, especially as the haft of the arrow in his back caught and snapped. Skipp wanted to scream, but he’d never been one to scream, and he couldn’t summon the energy anyway. Instead he only gritted his teeth and made an odd growling noise. They stopped and he opened his eyes, staring straight up. He could only see Undertaker’s dark fur and bright eyes. No sign of his crew. If they were still alive, wouldn’t they be here now?
“Are they… okay?” "Be still..."
Their words collided and Skipp suddenly found the side of a large paw in his mouth. The taste was strange and fuzzy, and he’d have preferred leather or a stick, but then Undertaker yanked on the arrow by his collarbone and he went under again.
“Skipper.” A tan-furred face swam slowly into focus, and he recognized Gerhard. “Here, Skipp, Holly says drink this…” he drank and sank back down, the darkness enfolding him.
“Ephraim!” It was Tampa, she strode up with a quick stride, her face dark and thunderous. “What’s this I hear about my uncle?” She was tall and used this to advantage as she glared down on the otter tied to the stake. “I don’t know him. Did he do it?”
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Post by tacticalotter2 on Jan 12, 2010 0:10:57 GMT -6
"I thought you had slept long enough. Escpeccially since you don't seem to loose any sleep over killing another otter, scum. And I thought I'd seen everything."
Rogg's head jerked up to meet the eyes of the otter who had just spoken, his stomach suddenly tightened and he almost felt like he was going to throw up. What had he done? He was the scum of the earth, killing other otters for profit from a sadistic warlord. The young otter was not a completely evil creature for all of the killing he had done and his flashy, assassin bravado. He was still young, and still an otter, and it made him want to die, knowing that he had ended the life of one of his own species. He would have never thought of slaying an otter if it was not for his greed. What a horrible thing greed was.
The big otter's body began to tremble as he thought of the pain, physical and mental, that the skipper must have been in as the toxins spread through his body. Why did he ever shoot the poor skipper? He was virtually defenseless when the mercenary had attacked, Rogg was certainly a coward for trying to shoot a creature in his back. How could he do such a miserable, cold-blooded act. The big otter wanted to cry, and he had not cried since he was ten years old, but this; this was the most wanton act of violence the mercenary had ever committed. He bit his lip to stop the tears from flowing, but his body was shaking slightly as he spoke to the two otters that were standing there, their eyes burning into his very soul.
"He... he's dead?"
Before the other otter could reply, another otter stormed onto the scene. It was a female and she looked like a massive dam that was about to burst.
“Ephraim!”“What’s this I hear about my uncle?”“I don’t know him. Did he do it?”
Rogg's mouth opened, but no words came forth. Then the otter's face fell and he stared at the mossy ground. The mercenary's once hardened shell was turned to mud and a tear rolled down his whiskery face to fall on the ground. What a horrible feeling it was to have his victim's niece right there in front of him.
"Yes...I did it...".......
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terg
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Post by terg on Jan 13, 2010 15:37:57 GMT -6
Ephriam span to see Tampa. Fury was still stamped on his features but he eased his expression to confront the otter maid. "Yeh 'e's the one. The other Skipper caught him. He coulda killed him to and was about to, but I think your uncle may want him alive for some reason." Ephriam spun back around and let the anger replace itself back on his face. He glared at Rogg who was forced to sit in the dust by his short tether. "Have you seen him yet?" He said addresing Tampa. "Is he ok? He jumped on my head just in time. Maybe he should do it more. Most of us are just angry withourselves for not seeing or sensing him skulking in the bushes." Ephriam shrugged his shoulders in defeat.
"I think I heard one of the Medics say the arrows where poisened. I was just going to ask this welp here if he had an antidote. If he dosn't tell us maybe we should shoot him with one of his own arrows and see if he produces it." The large otter tensed with anger. He usually wouldn't ever consider harming another otter but this was a totally different situation.
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Post by Skipper of Sea Otters on Jan 14, 2010 18:24:34 GMT -6
Undertaker washed his paws in the bucket of water, cleaning off the blood, fur, poison and whatever else might have gotten on him during his time aiding this land skipper. He grabbed a dry cloth from his haversack and dried his paws and threw the cloth in the fire to burn whatever toxins might be on it. Despite his evil looking appearance, he did have a vast knowledge of Medicine that no-one else on the Skipper's crew had. He took 2 of the arrows from the other skipper's back that he had placed on the table and walked them over to the other skipper, holding them in front of his face, the outline of the arrows in the foreground of Undertaker's bright eyes. He spoke up in a deep voice, "Poisoned...".... how subtle...
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"Yes...I did it..."
The Skipper grit his teeth and pulled his curved dagger from behind his back and placed it at the throat of the otter.
Blade, the Skipper's Number 1, saw this and trotted over to the Skipper and raised the Skipper's arm up quickly. "Woah there matey...Not the best of yer ideas...I mean you do watcha' want but I dunno what that there skipper over there wants..." he said nodding his head over in the direction of the other skipper. The Skipper put his dagger away and turned to walk to the other....but not before giving Rogg a swift kick in the thigh.
The Skipper approached the other and looked down. "Not your best of situations I take it..." he said trying to lighten whatever mood was there.
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Jan 15, 2010 0:14:46 GMT -6
Skipper was younger, the forest seemed cleaner, somehow, fresher. He stood beside a tree, watching a clearing where children played. A little ottermaid raced up to an older otter, beaming and giggling, holding out her paws.
“Daddy! Look, look! Its’a catterpiller, see?”she shoved them under his nose for inspection as he bent, solemnly exclaiming over her find as it crawled between her fingers. Treble smiled, little Tampa was such a sunny dibbun.
“Tampa! C’mon!” an older child called, squealing as she narrowly avoided the outstretched paws of a tiny mouselad. Handing the caterpillar to her father with instructions not to crush it, Tampa raced off to rejoin the game of tag. His big brother turned then, a tender smile on his face, coming to release the bug on the tree near Treble.
“Tagyr…” He reached out towards his brother, but his paw swept through him. Tagyr merely looked at him, his eyes warm and youthful and happy as Treble had never seen him, his face older and scarred, almost mirror his brother’s. “Tagyr, Tagyr, listen to me, listen…”and then the sky darkened and a wave struck through the clearing, but not water, not water but blood. Blood and bodies and weapons, sharp and broken and rusted, and then the flood was past and they all lay in the clearing, so still, so still. Tampa and Tagyr and Rosewater and the dibbuns, and yes even the caterpillar.
“Noooo!” He jerked, coming awake and opening his eyes with a suddenness that revealed to him the bright sun weak on the packed snow. “NOooo!”He was sitting up and looking around, but reality was back with a harshness equal to that of the unreality before it.
“Tagyr?” He asked of Skipper, still half seeing his brother.
"Not your best of situations I take it..."
Pain suddenly bloomed in his mind, but it wasn’t physical. He could barely feel anything, he felt numb. It didn’t occur to him that this was the work of painkillers, it didn’t occur to him as remarkable in the least. No, he saw Skipper as he truly was, tall and broad like Tagyr, but not him. He didn’t have the right scars. Tagyr had never been tattooed. It was loss over again.
“No. Skipper.” He blinked, “I’m sorry. What happened?”
"Have you seen him yet?" He said addresing Tampa. "Is he ok? He jumped on my head just in time. Maybe he should do it more. Most of us are just angry with ourselves for not seeing or sensing him skulking in the bushes
“No, I haven’t seen him yet…” She swung half around, looking towards the medics tent. Her nostrils were wide as she breathed in quickly and deeply, but her voice remained steady, if a little slow. Her breath slowly came back to her as she did so, recovering it from her dash along the trails. She turned back, smiling at mention of him saving Ephraim’s life. “So like him… I sometimes wonder what we’d be like without him, if he had died instead of my parents…” She returned her eyes to Rogg. They sparked.
“Well you’d better get him dried off, then. If Skipper wants him alive, we’ll keep him alive.”
"I think I heard one of the Medics say the arrows where poisened. I was just going to ask this welp here if he had an antidote. If he dosn't tell us maybe we should shoot him with one of his own arrows and see if he produces it."
She shook her head, locking eyes with Rogg. “No. He’ll tell us. What’s your name, murderer?”
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Post by tacticalotter2 on Jan 15, 2010 1:05:05 GMT -6
"I think I heard one of the Medics say the arrows where poisened. I was just going to ask this welp here if he had an antidote. If he dosn't tell us maybe we should shoot him with one of his own arrows and see if he produces it." also “No. He’ll tell us. What’s your name, murderer?”
A small surge of hope flooded through the young otter's body for a moment when he heard that the one who he had shot was still alive, though how, he knew not. Rogg normally used a derivative of the Rosary Pea for the poison that he used on his arrows. It was an extremely deadly poison that he favored for it's rapid action, and relatively painless death for it's victims. But, for some unknown reason, the mercenary had used a less violent poison on the arrow he had prepared for Skipper. Somehow, subconsciously, he could not bring himself to use such a deadly agent on another otter, even though he had still fired the shot. He had also brought several of the leafs of the Aerith plant which acted as an antidote from the poison, in case he ever was nicked by one of the deadly shafts. He normally thought of it as a pointless exercise to bring them, after all; he was a professional. But now, it seemed that this was one of those times where fate steps in and takes the simplest things, and makes great things happen with them.
How ironic that the assassin would give the thing to save his target's life. But after all; he was an otter. Rogg suddenly acted slightly more excited now that there was a chance to maybe redeem himself as an otter. But no matter what he did, the young mercenary could never forgive himself for causing so much pain to another one of his own species.
There was only a slim chance that the poison had not run it's course, but maybe, just maybe there was a glimmer of hope at the end of the dark night....
"I have the antidote!" He said with an excited glint in his hazel eyes.
"The leafs in that box in my pack, the green one with the straps, they have a neutralizing effect on the toxins. Please, get them and boil them into a broth; all of them. Then make him drink it."
The big otter looked down to the ground dejectedly, even if the antidote worked, there would still be the possibility of the wounds getting infected. But the rebels would probably have some sort of healers that would be able to deal with that. Then he remembered that the female otter had spoken also. The trembling otter slowly raised his head and replied to her query in a low voice that had lost most of it's former enthusiasm.
"I'm Rogg Streambattle, from Green Isle."
Then he mumbled an afterthought.
"I'm.... sorry."
The otter felt another tear trickle down his cheek as he thought of the pain that the skipper must be in....
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terg
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Post by terg on Jan 15, 2010 15:51:02 GMT -6
Ephriam immediently dove for Rogg's pack. He ripped it open and began carefully sifting through it's contense, trying not to disturb the antidote he hoped was in there. Finally found the box Rogg had spoken of at the bottom of the pack. Obviously he didn't use it very much. Ephriam opened the box carefully and inspected the leaves. They looked pretty normal to him, but he only had a very small knowledge of healing. He handed them to Toby who was more knowledgeable in these kind of things. The mute otter sniffed them and gently prodded one. He looked back to Ephriam and shrugged as he passed the box back.
"We'll do as you say, Rogg. But you're going to drink some of the broth first before we dump and down our Skipper. For all we know your just trying to finish him off." Ephriam acceptecd the box back from his brother. He would have liked to have someone else check them but they where running short on time, and need to hurry. He loped over to one the many fires that where lit all around the camp and hauled a newly cleaned pot to it's side. No one obkected as he filled the pot with water from a nearby urn and set over the fire to boil. He dropped each of the leaves carefully into the water.
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Post by Skipper of Sea Otters on Jan 19, 2010 20:09:05 GMT -6
“No. Skipper.” He blinked, “I’m sorry. What happened?”
Oh If the Skipper had a pint for every time he heard that from a beast mouth. He couldn't help but draw a smile. He looked down at the other Skipper's wound and poked it. "Ye were shot..." he said jabbing the wound again. He didn't mean to be irritating...but his ways were alot different than any other otter. Pain was something his crew were used to. It just never occurred to him that none of these other beast were apart of his crew.
"We'll do as you say, Rogg. But you're going to drink some of the broth first before we dump and down our Skipper. For all we know your just trying to finish him off."
The Skipper of Sea Otters twerked his ears to Ephriam. "Matey..." he said turning to face him. "The beast'll die anyway if we don't do anything...There was enough poison in those arrers ta' kill 4 of us here...It's not like we havah' real choice...Now he's either gonna drink it voluntarily...or i'll force feed it down his throat...it'll do no good to give it ta' that mud splotch... " he said pointing a claw at Rogg.
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Jan 20, 2010 11:31:20 GMT -6
"I'm Rogg Streambattle, from Green Isle." Then he mumbled an afterthought. "I'm.... sorry."
Tampa watched Rogg with narrowed eyes as he babbled out the information Ephriam had requested. She did not feel pity for this otter, only a certain emptiness and a new hardness. She knew her uncle, he would probably forgive this Rogg, this murderer. But she was not her uncle, she was not as kind. Not anymore.
She was not one to deeply examine her motivations, she merely acted or thought. “Well then, Rogg Streambattle. I am Tampa Tiderunner, and not nearly so kind as my father. I have lost my entire family, I have been a warrior since my childhood and I have even been a slave. My brother is a slave even now. So understand this,” She squatted down on his eye level, “If he dies, you will die. If he becomes a cripple, you will. Or maybe I will just kill you.” Her eyes were brown steel, her voice clipped and cold.
“He is my Skipper, and I will obey him. You will not die yet.” She stood, turning to stride over to the medical tent mere feet away. She paused when she caught sight of the Skipper of the Sea, tattooed and scarred, standing by her uncle’s side. She couldn’t help but wonder, seeing them side by side, what her father would look like if he had lived. Daddy had been tall and broad too, she vaguely remembered.
With a violent shake of her head, she tossed away the morose thoughts running through her head and inclined her head in the SoSO’s direction, then turned her attention to her father-uncle. “You should lay down, Skipp.” She said softly, standing on the opposite side of the cot he was sitting on. “We don’t need you dying on us.”
Skipper smiled faintly up at his tall niece, his ears were still sharp even if he’d been shot and poisoned. “Tam, Tam. I’ll be fine.” He didn’t look over at the soaking Rogg or make excuses for him. For all intents, the otter was an enemy, but for some reason Skipp didn’t want to kill him.
"Ye were shot..."
Skipper winced, batting the paw away. “Aye, I can tell.” His eyes were cloudy with pain and fever, but his voice, though weak, remained clear. Dizziness struck him, making his vision swim in darkness, and he lowered himself back onto the cot. He now looked up from what seemed a great depth at the two tall otters bracketing him. “Poisoned too, I wouldn’t doubt.”
He gripped Tam’s paw, winking at her to reassure her. Her mouth twitched in the tiniest smile. “What I mean is…” that hitching seemed to restrict his breath again, a tightness that kept him from breathing normally. “No one told… me if my… crew survived.”
“They’re fine. Ephraim blames himself…”
“Of course he… does.”
"Matey..." he said turning to face him. "The beast'll die anyway if we don't do anything...There was enough poison in those arrers ta' kill 4 of us here...It's not like we havah' real choice...Now he's either gonna drink it voluntarily...or I’ll force feed it down his throat...it'll do no good to give it ta' that mud splotch... "
“You needn’t… force feed me.” Skipper tried to draw himself up with indignation, but a firm paw on his shoulder prevented that. He lay back, closing his eyes. His family was stubborn, Tampa the stubbornest. He drifted off as the voices continued over his head.
“Well?” One eyebrow raised, Tam looked at Skipper (that’s you, soso). “You realize he can’t lead us in three days?” A commotion sounded at the other end of camp, she turned and looked that way, but it quickly died down and she returned her attention to Skipper. “He will ask you, you know.” A paw rested briefly on her uncle’s forehead. “If he’s lucid enough…" She paused, then decided to address what she thought she'd overheard. "He called you Tagyr, didn’t he?” |
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terg
Freebeast
Posts: 58
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Post by terg on Jan 20, 2010 15:20:02 GMT -6
Ephriam's claws drummed impatiently on the stump of a long dead tree, as he waited for the water in the pot to come to a boil. This was why he wasn't a cook. He peered in under the lid he had placed on top of the pot to see if it was boiling yet, and as he did a saying he mother had always said came ti mind. A watched pot never boils. A growl almost escaped his mouth but she shoved it back down and sat back.
"Matey...The beast'll die anyway if we don't do anything...There was enough poison in those arrers ta' kill 4 of us here...It's not like we havah' real choice...Now he's either gonna drink it voluntarily...or i'll force feed it down his throat...it'll do no good to give it ta' that mud splotch... "
Shook his head. "Why not? We can't give this to Skipp unless we know what it is. For all you or I know it's just the same stuff he puts on his arrows. Have that Undertaker have a look at it if you think he can tell anything, but we can't take the risk of not knowing." Ephriam crossed his arms over his chest, and although he was not as tall as Undertaker or Skipper of Sea Otters he plastered a defiant look on his face. His mind was set. He knew Skipp had to be strong enough to make it through this.
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Post by tacticalotter2 on Jan 20, 2010 16:57:11 GMT -6
“Well then, Rogg Streambattle. I am Tampa Tiderunner, and not nearly so kind as my father. I have lost my entire family, I have been a warrior since my childhood and I have even been a slave. My brother is a slave even now. So understand this,”“If he dies, you will die. If he becomes a cripple, you will. Or maybe I will just kill you.”
"I'm sure you will, Tampa Tiderunner" he said in a shaky, sad voice. Rogg's jaw then tightened, as the multitude of feelings flooded into his heart; poor Tampa's brother, a slave? No doubt he was a slave at fort Na'tashi, and the mercenary was responsible for it in a way, a big way. He started to feel hate and sorrow at the same time, hate directed at the cruel words of his captors, sorrow that he had betrayed nearly everybeast now. Lady Lorna he had double-crossed by giving the antidote to the rebels, his own species for firing the arrows. And a depressing sadness engulfed the young otter, he could never be loved in the slightest degree by anybeast after slaying another otter. His actions had turned him into an outcast everywhere he went, first at home, now here.... This made him want to cry out, to scream his troubles to the sky. But he could not do that here, not with the angry faces all around him.
The mercenary otter had always wanted to be a friend to all, but after to many years of being shaken off, he had stopped trying. He had grown into a ice cold killer, but inside, he was still just a little otter pup, crying in the rain, looking for love from creatures who could care less. But somehow, he knew that there must still be some small pocket of goodness left in his big body; for had he not told his captors where the antidote was? This thought still did not comfort the otter, he was still the scum of the earth, and there was nothing he could do about it.
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Post by Skipper of Sea Otters on Jan 20, 2010 21:25:27 GMT -6
"Why not? We can't give this to Skipp unless we know what it is. For all you or I know it's just the same stuff he puts on his arrows. Have that Undertaker have a look at it if you think he can tell anything, but we can't take the risk of not knowing."
Undertaker turned his head sharply looking down at Ephriam. His solid, white eyes piercing a hole through him with irritation. Yet no expression on his face...as usual...Skipper was beginning to like this otter. He was showing real signs of defiance. Reminded him of himself a long time ago. "Oh aye?...your right...we do need to know if it kills..." The Skipper quickly snatched another leaf from the belonging and popped it in his mouth and chewed it up and swallowed rather unexpectedly.... "Hmm...." The Skipper's eyes rolled back in his head and he let out and breath air and made a hacking sound grabbing for his throat as if about to die a violent and terrible death. "Hahck kak' kak' Gak HaHAHAHA hehe!" He reacted beginning to laugh a bit unable to keep it up. "I think its pretty safe ta' say it ain't gonna kill em..."
“You realize he can’t lead us in three days?” A commotion sounded at the other end of camp, she turned and looked that way, but it quickly died down and she returned her attention to Skipper. “He will ask you, you know.” A paw rested briefly on her uncle’s forehead. “If he’s lucid enough…"
The Skipper was almost Struck dumb. It actually never occurred to him. He would more than liely be asked to lead them. The Skipper had 400 otters in his crew...However none of them were ever all together. A hundred stayed at the holt to protect it. 200 were always at sea somewhere patrolling and the other hundred stayed with him. He had obviously led a mass amount of beast. but this was going to be quiet a challenge if he was asked. He was confident he could lead them though...and he would...they would be lead even if he had to kill them to making them follow orders...No Skip....that's in your past...we arnt gonna kill em...maim...loss of limb maybe...that ought to keep em in line... "Aye... know..." a Lie...
She paused, then decided to address what she thought she'd overheard. "He called you Tagyr, didn’t he?”
The Skipper nodded. He didn't know who he was but he at least wanted to know why he was called that. "Aye...who uh...Whos that?" He asked leaning in with a quiet whisper.
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Jan 20, 2010 23:26:46 GMT -6
"Aye...who uh...Who’s that?" He asked leaning in with a quiet whisper.
Tam smiled sadly, clasping her paws behind her back and turning so she faced away from Skipper (Still you, soso!) She found the tears, suppressed so long, welling up. She blinked them away, taking a deep breath and forcing her voice to remain steady. “He was my—“ No, she’d revealed too much of her past already to that pikebait of an otter. She amended her statement, perhaps too quickly, but she thought her voice remained steady. “He was my uncle’s big brother.” Feeling her eyes dry again, the momentary weakness gone, she turned back. With a lack of anything to do, she gripped her uncle’s unconscious paw. A lifeline, but for who, she wasn’t clear on.
“He was tall and broad, like you.” She said, looking up at Skipper. “I don’t know how he saw him, but to me he seemed like a very tall mountain. Everyone says they were very close.” She released Skipper’s paw, (that’s me) crossing her arms in front of her. “Did you know,” it was a sudden change of subject, “That we had five Skippers in eight years, once? Our early days… a death warrant for anyone in power; anyone trying to keep us together. It nearly broke us, the whole of the Skipper’s family dying. It was then that we started just voting. Sometimes the previous Skipper would chose. Skipper’s lasted almost fifteen years. I should have expected something to happen, after all, that’s nearly half the time Redwall has been occupied.”
A wry twist to her mouth. “At any rate, here ’Skipper’ is just another name for ‘marked for death.’” She looked at him again. Her uncle’s age, she’d wager, though he didn’t seem it. Skipper (me again) looked older and battered, with a lifetime of war carving premature grooves in his face.
“Tagyr is dead, but my uncle is not. Yet. And I intend to keep him alive.” She glanced in the direction of the fort, frustration on her face. “If only Tirael were here. He is the healer, I am not. I am merely the warrior.”
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Post by Skipper of Sea Otters on Jan 21, 2010 0:00:11 GMT -6
The Skipper could tell whoever the beast was was was definitely close to the two. Judging by how emotional Tam was appearing. Back in the day Skipper would have been the one who would have put the death sentence on a beast. He used to be that kind of beast before he was a Skipper. Skipper knew what he had to do... It was his place to do so...Plus he didn't want any more visions from that warrior mouse...not that he was Scary, but...
The Skipper put a hefty paw on Tam's shoulder . "Don't worry matey...Undertaker knows what ta' do..." he said putting the other paw on his shoulder as well. "I'll lead tha' battle...I'll be by yer side...I'll make sure you and he stay alive...Even if it takes my life..."
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terg
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Post by terg on Jan 22, 2010 16:12:23 GMT -6
Finally bubbles began to appear on the waters surface coming more and more rapidly. Satisfied with Skipper Of Sea Otters demonstration Ephriam grabbed the pot not paying attention to how hot the handles where. He lugged it to the tent where his Skipper lay, and shoved his way through the flap. He set he pot down careful not to slop and of the liquid over the side. he grabbed a ladle and scooped out a portion of the mixture. He held the ladle out and waited a few brief seconds for it to cool, then bent over Skipp and gently opened his mouth. "Kay, Skipp I'm gonna pour this down you..." He was trying to hurry but his nervousness seemed to be making him slower. He tipped the wooden ladle carefully and let it trickle into Skipper's mouth.
His mind was racing as he emptied the rest of ladle into Skipp's mouth. He despretly hoped it would work and not just be a dud. He was going to kill that otter...
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