The Assassin and the Exile (Open)

[Silas]

The cloudy skies began to darken as the sun settled down into the horizon, creating soft hues of orange, red, and a glimmer of golden light as it set. The trees rustled in a calming breeze from the west, as if breathing once more at the advent of spring. Aside from the wind and the trees, all was quiet. That was, until a rather irritated voice penetrated the silence.

A fox walked alongside a weasel through the bushes of Mossflower wood, the vulpine wearing tattoos, trousers, and a sword, while the weasel wore clothing more akin to the beasts of the land they were in, though stained by years of travel. His red headband was the only remaining piece of pristine cloth between them, and it did not do much to shield the weasel's eyes from the sun as he squinted and walked towards the light.

"Why d'you have to be so silent all the time, aye? Doncha ever talk to anyone?" He complained, eyeing the slightly shorter fox with his brown eyes. The fox shrugged without looking back, always fixating his gaze upon their direction of travel. He replied in a soft, emotionless tone,

"I thought you would go away after a while, but I guess that is not the case."

The weasel stuttered for a brief moment before growling a reply, "Well hey, I was thinkin' that I was gonna tag along and ask for a rematch of our little fight yesterday." The fox finally glanced back at the weasel, raising an eyebrow after pausing at length to speak. "If I had not let you live, you would not have requested such a foolish thing."

"Bah! You're the one who cheated, mate! Using your fancy sword to fling that beehive my way and then swipe at my stomach..."

"You threw things at me as well."
"Well it wasn't while you were fighting off a buncha stinging insects now was it?" The weasel responded with a glare. The fox rolled his eyes and sighed. "Either way, I am afraid I cannot offer you another battle. I do not seek out such things." The fox replied cooly, stretching out a little bit in the last rays of the sun. The weasel grunted. "Ah, I see. Too much of a cowardly beast to fight again..." The fox stopped walking as they approached a well-traveled path that led from north to south through the woods.

"Or perhaps I am smart enough to not pursue my own destruction, unlike yourself. But if you're going to follow me around, at least make yourself useful and find some firewood before the sky gets any darker." The fox commented, setting down a small tarp he was carrying across his shoulder and began picking up sticks off of the ground in a calm, collected manner as if ignoring the weasel. The weasel snarled a bit at this, but he knew that it was a silly, foolhardy pursuit to demand another fight just for the sake of his pride. He set down his pack angrily, and resigned himself to picking up just a few sticks before throwing them on the ground in front of him.

"Huh... Fine, I'll stick around... Maybe save yer life one day, seeing as you're so full o' yerself..." Then a thought occoured to the weasel as he watched the fox pluck dead twigs from the ground. "Say, wot's yer name, anyway?"

The fox looked back at him with his dispassionate grey eyes. "Ghost is what they call me." The weasel huffed at this. "See? Like I said, all full o' yerself..." The fox responded with a shrug. "Well, then, what is your name, O great seeing weasel?"

The weasel turned his head, glaring as he faced the east, as the fox set about making a camp for the night. "Sergei. Sergei Mieraya."

"Ah, such an odd name. It fits you, you know." Ghost remarked, sitting cross-legged by the fire, trying to light the bundle of sticks by striking flint close to it. "You might as well sit down. It is not very often that I run into anyone out here." He gestured for Sergei to take a seat across the fire from him. The weasel grudgingly occupied the offered seat as the fox tried to light the fire, patiently waiting for a spark. After a while, Ghost had a small fire going, and Sergei was warm and comfortable against the chilly night air, despite his irritation at this strange beast. He began to relax. "So, why pick a spot right next to the road?" He asked. Ghost shrugged.

"I would like to see all the beasts that come and go in this strange land, and if they are all as odd as you..." He replied, gazing into the fire, occasionally prodding it along or throwing a stick or two into the blaze but not much more than that. "Hm." Sergei blinked in reply. "Well, you'll see soon enough. Lots of beasts travel on the road..."

"Oh, really?" The fox made an expression of mock surprise.

"Shut up." Sergei growled.

[Elicia]

They were brothers, although one was smaller than the other, and they ran as one- both stretching their legs as they raced on all fours along the road. The smaller of the two was the younger brother; his name was Daily. The larger was Raucus. Raucus happened to be the more violent of the two, but it was he who held his pace back. Daily did not run as fast as his older brother. The two of them had left their weapons behind, as a club and a mace were too cumbersome to allow fast running.

It had been Raucus' idea in the first place, really: get out of their camp so that they wouldn't be driven mad with anticipation. Both hares had long awaited the chance to have a crack at as many hares as there were now; both- whether they acknowledged it or not- were looking forward to the event.

Daily slowed down first. Raucus skidded to a halt a few paces away. "Wot in th' name o' blazes caused ye t'stop?" The older marten's voice was harsh, and his younger brother shook his head.

"I can't keep running like that. I'm not as big as you are- I have to work extra to keep up."

"An' 'ere I am, slowin' down t'give ye a break! Are ye good fer nothin', Daily?" Though the two were brothers, Raucus' voice was harsher, and preferred a less-cultivated brogue. Daily's voice was smooth and as civilized as a marten gone wrong could get.

"I am good for many things, Raucus, but running is not one of them!" Drawing himself upright indignantly, Daily glared at his brother. "Give me a minute!"

He instantly regretted it. Raucus snarled, and tackled Daily. The younger marten fell to the ground, pinned by his older brother but still struggling. "I'll give ye a minute when I wants to, so keep yore yap shut, pipsqueak!" Raucus traced the ugly scar that ran across his brother's chest- the scar that he had given him. "Ye remember." Daily's eyes were full of hate and betrayal, but he nodded and relaxed. "Don' make me angry, Daily."

"I won't." Daily closed his eyes as his brother slowly let him go. He tried to put a chastened expression on his face, but it didn't work. Years ago, Daily had known a frightened young marten who followed his brother's guidance unconditionally.

He hadn't seen that marten in a while.

Being the better swordsbeast and the smarter of the two brothers had brought Daily up- in his mind- to Raucus' level. By his reasoning, they should be equals.

But Raucus insisted on imposing his dominance over him. So Daily tolerated it with a mix of hate, fear, and love- love for his brother who protected him when he was young and helpless. Love for the brother that Daily had worked so long and so hard to please. And disappointment in himself was always awakened when Daily was confronted by his brother. Something in the way Raucus spoke made Daily feel like it was he who had done something wrong, and that he should apologize to his brother.

But when Daily opened his eyes, they were clear. He picked himself up, turned his back to the road, and proceeded to brush the dust off of himself. He had noticed a fire. "Raucus, we have company. Or, rather, we've become company." His voice was loud, and Raucus turned around, grinning wolfishly and walking towards the faint glimmer.

"Who is it- friend or foe? I've got a mind t'know, me buckoes." Daily stayed where he was, carefully cleaning every speck of dust he could from his coat.

[Silas]

After a few moments of silence, with Sergei sulking and Ghost glancing pensively at the fire, they both glanced up at the shout coming from the path. Sergei put a paw on one of his throwing knives under his vest and stood up, but Ghost gestured for him to stay his paw as of yet. The fox then called back, "We are neither friend nor foe, unless you mean to befriend or harm us." Sergei tried to glimpse through the trees and see who the other beast was, calling out to them like he owned the whole of Mossflower. "He ain't no friend of mine..." He grumbled aside to the fox.

"That much is clear." Ghost replied, "You do not seem like the beast who has many friends." Sergei glared back, but Ghost was still looking into the woods, taking a few steps forward through the undergrowth. After a moment, he followed, mumbling, "Huh... I don't need any friends..."

In a mere four paces Ghost emerged from the vegitation to see these new beasts, followed by Sergei, who eyed the martens with an air of contemptuous suspicion. Ghost, meanwhile, looked on casually to the two beasts, awaiting an answer.

[kiara]

Kiara had settled down for the evening and made a fire on her own, further into the woods so not as much traffic will be through her campsite for the night.
She had see another fire a little bit aways telling her that someone else was in the woods and she was not alone. Finishing up her supper, she just sat at the fire, enjoying the piece and quite, writing in her journal about the days events.

When she had heard all the commotion and yelling from what she guessed, the other campsite, she quietly got her bow and notched one of her arrows in it and just sat at her fire, prepared waiting if anything should happen.
She had decided that she'll check it out in the morning, when there is light...or...later that night when everyone was sleeping and be hidden in the night. She'd have to decide that later, for now, she waited.