Bloodlust and Victories {Plot - Open}

[Treble Tiderunner]

Lorna Russetfur was in a rare mood. Now! Now was the time! She lifted her arms to the lightening sky, the flash of gold bracelets and her earrings, all seven of them, back in her ears, catching the eye. She tipped her muzzle to the sky and yipped out a howl.

"Arooaaawwwrrrrrr! Listen up, my crew! We are striking back now! We will wipe their miserable little carcasses off the face of this earth!" She unsheathed her scimitar, raising it to the screams and howls of the horde. Their eyes glowed with bloodthirsty fervor, and she felt her own grin growing on her face.

"Captains! Open the gates!" Lorna Russetfur, Terror of Mossflower, led her troupes out into Mossflower.

[Vrelt]

The hordes' bloodlust grew with each passing second as Lorna led them out of the fort. On the other hand, Braylon Severian was not nearly as thrilled to be heading out to launch an attack. Braylon always resented authority, except for his own, of course, but when it came to life or death he would submit to the command of Lorna and carry out his side of the deal. Mercenary work was far better than constant aimless wondering through Mossflower.

Braylon signed up with Lorna and her crew just days earlier, deciding it was best to take a side. He had grown tired of his constant wondering and came to the conclusion that just about all prejudiced goodbeasts deserved to die. After his travels, few beasts showed any hospitality, most tried to kill him when he approached, therefore he joined with the only vermin force that had the ability to wipe out the goodbeasts. Despite his reluctance to take sides in anything, this was one time where he found a side suitable for him.

He would take pleasure in being a part of this assault, though not nearly as much as the vermin horde around him. Braylon slowed his pace as the horde poured out of the gates, allowing most to pass by him. It was his assignment to make sure there were no deserters, if he found any they were to be killed immediately. In some ways this was a favorable job, he wouldn't be on the front lines and be among those to be killed at the start of the fight. But then again, he wouldn't have many chances to kill any goodbeasts. At least he was getting paid for this relatively easy job.

With saber in paw the ferret surveyed the ranks as they surged forward, his green eyes careful not to miss any attempts at desertion, though he doubted anybeast would try to desert now, when they were following Lorna into battle, possessed with bloodlust. Braylon was weary of this attack now, with everybeast so intent on killing, it would be difficult to manage to fall back without suffering heavy losses. He knew that not all goodbeasts were defenseless, and again, the ferret was glad he was stationed at the back of the horde.

((I was just wondering, as Lorna leads the horde, where is she located during this attack?))

[Arturo]

Riven hustled her own troops along, shouting wildly and repeatedly stabbing the air with her spear. Her frenzied, excited attitude was feigned, however; she, while having a healthy distaste for the woodlanders they were heading off to kill, had bigger metaphorical fish to fry. This was a real battle. It was bound to be chaotic, disorganized, and altogether confusing--

--the perfect time to stage an assassination.

Riven despised Lorna's regime at the Fort. Though she had been promoted, she was given far less authority and power than the other captains, something she knew was no accident. The fox knew her, feared her, and maybe thought that a mere title would sate Riven's thirst for power. But she was wrong, Riven was too clever and too ambitious to be appeased as a figurehead. So, she sought out an idiot, somebeast angry and vengeful enough to go along with her plans without having the slightest idea they were being tricked. That was where Kirig came in.

The stoat had been rather surly after his run-in with Tirael and Lorna; once she was certain that all his anger was directed at the fox, Riven had approached him with an offer to team up and, as she had put it, 'fire' Lorna. Kirig had been only too happy too agree. Of course, Riven had been concerned that he might drop out of the plan when his captive turned out to be a gold mine, but instead, Kirig seemed buoyed by the sudden upswing in his popularity.

Now, running out the gate, rat and stoat gave each other a glance and a slight nod. Once the battle was on, their little plot was to topple Lorna's leadership once and for all. They were so close...

[[Note--this is all written from Riven's head, so don't take her arrogance as fact. ]]

[Grath]

The new day was dawning, the sun shone on the old packed snow, bringing a luster that bespoke peace and quiet.

Too bad Tampa was intent on ruining that image. The young otter maid was standing beside Skipper(oSO), returned from scouting. The rest of her scouts had already returned to their positions. It was odd, reporting to a different Skipper, but not enough to deter her from her anticipated revenge.

"They're heading straight for the Clearing." She said in a undertone, indicating the direction they horde was in, a trifle unnecessarily, for the noise carried clearly over a good distance in the cold air.

"Lorna's leading, she's got them whipped to a froth."

[Elicia]

There was a lot going on.

That was what ran through the head of one young marten as he sat, disguised, in a tree. Daily M'koro studied the ground below him intently, waiting for the horde to come charging through. The way Raucus had set him up, the horde ought to come right below him. Daily's club sat on a branch above him, neatly wedged between two larger branches. Below him, Daily could faintly make out the silhouette of his brother, Raucus M'koro, as the other marten climbed up the tree to join Daily.

"Whose side are we on." It was more of a statement than a question, and Daily's voice was as flat as a pond on a still summer's day.

"Nobody, ye great idjit!" Raucus glared at the other marten. "We're 'ere t'find th'ares. Nothin' more."

Daily shook his head slowly. "That's not how it works." However, he saw Raucus' warning glance and hastily explained. "You have to make peace with one side so, if we're caught, only one side will want to kill us-not two."

"Aw, to heck wit 'em all!" The elder of the two brothers dismissed Daily's suggestion with a depreciating noise and a wave of his paw. "We're no' gonna get caught, matey!"

Daily stared at his brother in wonder. No matter how much time Daily spent around Raucus, he could not get used to the fact that his brother did not take the time to pronounce words properly. He could, so why not Raucus as well?

Secretly, Daily knew the answer, and he saw it in Raucus' eyes every moment of every day: Raucus enjoyed being a killer. He enjoyed associating with other vermin. He enjoyed speaking like a vermin because that's what he wanted to be. A killer. Daily shook his head. There were better ways to kill hares than turning oneself into a vermin until there was no originality left in your body or soul.

The roar of the horde made Raucus dig his claws into the wood in anger. "No army should be tha' loud." He hissed through his teeth.

"Oh, but they all are..." Daily mentioned absently, reaching up for his club.

Raucus was at Daily's throat in an instant, his fangs bared and his claws tickling his brother's throat. "Wot did ye say, mate? Wot do ye know of armies, eh?" Daily knew better than to respond, and Raucus let him go roughly. The younger marten rubbed his throat ruefully, but went back to watching for the horde. After all, their hideout was *exactly* where Raucus had said the army would be passing.

[lorki]

The stillness was more surprising than anything. Soko had expected these moments to be... well, awful. She expected the blood to pound in her head like it did when she faced a fiend in mock battle. She expected the flicker of fear to ignite in her chest. She expected to feel uneasy, unsure, lost as she had been for the past years. But she did not.

Rather, she'd collected her thoughts, her life, her chances. She had nothing to lose, other than what she held now. And while now might not be perfect, it was better than anything so far. It was worth it, at the very least. Worth what? The question resonated in her mind. Worth friends, pain, life? She couldn't be sure... but it was worth being calm, worth trying without panic.

So she moved to meet Tampa as the otter returned, taking a few brisk steps to stand beside her and The Skipper of Sea Otters as she addressed him. "We ought to hurry," she said quietly, "they'll be just as eager, or more so, to follow our trail once they find the camp empty." They were about midway between the fort and camp, so essentially both Horde and Woodland army were making about the same time... But Soko understood that they really could use an advantage.

[Skipper of Sea Otters]

"They're heading straight for the Clearing." She said in a undertone, indicating the direction they horde was in, a trifle unnecessarily, for the noise carried clearly over a good distance in the cold air.
"Lorna's leading, she's got them whipped to a froth."


The Skipper of Sea otters stood beside the other two, The white marking on his fur were highlight due to a new coat of paint he had put on them. He wanted them bright and vibrant, He wanted the enemy to know he wasn't scared of death. Some might call him crazy...he was basically painting a target on himself for death a quick death. Having heard Tampa, he turned his head to face her.

"Attacking 'em from behind might be tha' best idea. If we go around them, and match speed, we should be able to take them off guard." he paused in thought. "We should get movin'..." he looked behind him, at their own force. They looked to be fighters but wondered how many of them would have to die. These were innocent beast, not the plauge on sea. He was confident in his own crew but couldn't help thinking about the others. "Ya' don't have to follow me down....you can stay if you wish...I'd hate to see you struck down..." Skipper was actually showing concern?



"We ought to hurry," she said quietly, "they'll be just as eager, or more so, to follow our trail once they find the camp empty." They were about midway between the fort and camp, so essentially both Horde and Woodland army were making about the same time... But Soko understood that they really could use an advantage.

Skipper inhaled deeply with a sigh. They would need to move quick but he felt there was some fear within them. Right now, they needed a leader, Someone to lead the charge, putting his life and the forefront of the action. Some who wasn't scared of a likely death. Someone who shared the same passion as he they did. He turned his head looking for a high spot to stand. Spotting a tree stump, he made a quick sprint and pushed off the ground landing on the stump. He took a breath and looked at the band of warriors.

"Eyes ta' me! Listen up!" He shouted out, grabbing the attention of everybeast near him. "You were expecting your Skipper to lead you in this fight...He won't have the opportunity...instead I will." he sighed, hearing growing whispers. "Most of you know don't know me or have only seen me briefly...you know that I'm not from around here...you know that I don't know this land as well as you do....why should he care about our lands when he has tha' sea?" his voice grew stronger. "Rest assured, I share the same passion for your lives as i do for those of my own kind...And I will be there at the forefront of battle...Lopping of each one of their Dam-" he paused looking at Celleron who just stared him as usual. "...of their heads...This is your land...This is your home! And those smelly bas-....buzzards are trying to take it from you! Well I wont have it!" It was obvious his blood-lust growing something fierce. He muscles began to tense up as he spoke and his voice seemed to boom over the rest of them. "Take me as your leader! I'll be right there with you, standing at the front of line! Let their Blood stain the ground! Let us bring the dark forest to their faces! Take back what is yours! This is your home! This is your land!"


He waited till the cheers had simmered. "Look at me....Look at the markings on my body..." he held his arms out at his side and turned around, showing them each of the white marks. "These are killing strikes....Strike them in any one of these place and they'll die within seconds...I know you want their blood...and you'll get it...but lets be smart...the quicker you can strike them here the quicker they'll see the gates themselves..."

Looking about, he had hoped he got through to them. He pulled his twin cutlass's from his back holsters. "Lets bathe in their blood tonight."

[Treble Tiderunner]

"We ought to hurry," she said quietly, "they'll be just as eager, or more so, to follow our trail once they find the camp empty."

Tampa smiled reassuringly at the sable. She knew that when it came down to it, Sokana would come through. After all, she had been schooled in the sword by the best the woodlanders had. She'd on;y worked a year, but certainly that was all one needed to keep oneself alive and kill other beasts. Hellgates, one lesson was all that was needed. Point the pointy end at the foebeast. Don't let yourself get hit. Hit the foebeast with the pointy end. Simple.

She looked behind her at the motley crew. The woodlanders looked worn, ragged and scarred, the hares, led by the BadgerLady, looked determined, as did the sea otters. But she could tell the woodlanders were starting to wonder. Skipper was a strong leader, and he left a void.

"Ya' don't have to follow me down....you can stay if you wish...I'd hate to see you struck down..." Skipper was actually showing concern?

"Are ye kidding?" She laughed, motioning out at Mossflower, "This is my home. This is my family. Those rotten vermin slaughtered and enslaved m--us." She was passionate, cold fury and thirst for revenge contained in one slim package.

"I did not come this far to turn back. My Uncle did not raise me from a babe for me to run now. I did not grow up fighting to hide behind somebeast." She pointed her dagger at him. "I did not do what I did to become a coward at the last. Ye should understand, I think, Mr. Skipper of Sea Otters Formerly A Corsair."

She lowered the dagger, her other paw resting on her quiver of otter javelins, her voice lower. "If I die, then I die. End of discussion."

"We ought to hurry," she said quietly, "they'll be just as eager, or more so, to follow our trail once they find the camp empty."

She turned with some relief to Soko, bowing her head slightly with respect. "As ye say, Champion."


"Take me as your leader! I'll be right there with you, standing at the front of line! Let their Blood stain the ground! Let us bring the dark forest to their faces! Take back what is yours! This is your home! This is your land!"

Tam stepped forward, holding high a javelin. "To Hellgates wi' the lot o' 'em, mateys! Lissen t'Skipper, Skipp asked him an' 'e leads us now!"

"Lets bathe in their blood tonight."

"Aye!" It was a deep voice, and the owner of it immediately stood out, the giant otter, Fogg; was lost in no crowd. "Lead on, Skipper mate!"

[Elicia]

She was tapping her footpaw impatiently, and had her arms akimbo, squarely defying and repelling any do-gooder than might wish to approach her and comfort her. Elicia's eyes searched and appraised everything she saw, but never absorbed the information. They slid from one thing to the next without much pause, and, the longer she stood still, the faster her dark eyes moved and the faster her foot tapped. It was more than clear that she was nervous, and in a horribly awful mood. Her nose wrinkled in slight annoyance as she saw her Badger Lady sitting peacefully on the ground and polishing her broadsword.

Ryn bit her lip absently, and looked at her reflection in the blade of the sword, inspecting the already perfect blade needlessly. She would have looked peaceful enough to anyone looking at her- Elicia, for example. Ryn had noticed the hare's impatience a while ago, but stayed away. Silently, Ryn whispered to her reflection, "What are you going to do with yourself, young lady?"

The truth was that she didn't know the answer to the question. She always doubted herself before a battle, and sometimes hated herself afterwards. But those were the pains of war: bad decisions were made, and- no matter how desperately hard she tried- many brave beasts were lost. Every moment of waiting made Ryn wish that she could protect all of her hares and companions. However, she knew that she couldn't and forced herself to comprehend this fact.

So, trying to be flip and relax a bit, Ryn forced a wink at the simmering hare. "Are we turning into a radish, Eli?" However, Elicia's eyes narrowed, and her mouth turned down into a severe frown; she cut the Badger Lady off by promptly turning her back on her superior with a snort of annoyance.

Ryn's mouth tightened, and she stood up, using her broadsword as a lever- albeit unnecessarily. "It's not like we're incompetent, right?" She said to whoever happened to be listening as she watched Eli simmer in her own fear and anticipation.

_____________________________

Raucus' greedy eyes turned towards where the woodland army was. "Th' 'ares are tha'a'ways." He jumped off the tree limb without bothering to climb down properly. Daily rolled his eyes, and took the long way down more sedately. There was one M'koro brother that could maintain his dignity even when faced with the possibility of attacking those he hated most in the world.

Daily loped along a little ways behind his brother. Deep in his mind, he shivered in disgust at the apparent glee with which Raucus ran off and at the hideous screams and shouts of joys that seemed to tear themselves from his brother's throat.

And, even though he did not acknowledge it, Daily was disgusted with the joy that was blossoming within himself at the prospect of hunting hares!

[tacticalotter2]

Rogg stared into space, his mind concentrating on what he was about to do; kill things. This was not going to be the largest battle the otter had ever fought in, but it sure would be a good one. One couldn't go wrong with a group of crazed woodlanders, a unit of charming hares and a horde of angry vermin. Oh yes, untrained, undisciplined fighters, this would be quite interesting.

He sighed and looked down at the ground between his paws. Why was he even here? This wasn't his fight, he didn't live here or have family in Mosslfower. But then he looked up at the determined faces around him. Some were fearful, others courageous. Some were young, others old. Several looked like they had seen a fight before, others looked like they just stopped sucking their paws to grab a javelin. And him, here he was with his cynical attitude, his assassin mentality, his... murdering paws. The young otter felt out of place, he didn't belong in the same group as these goodbeasts. Rogg had always fought for money since he was in the military, and he wasn't worthy to be with creatures who were actually fighting for something good and right.


But then he realized what he was wearing; his full battle gear, light armor, black as a moonless night, reinforced gloves on his webbed paws, a bow strapped firmly to his back, the razor sharp dagger in a sheath across his chest for easy access, and his sword, still in it's sheath. He drew the blade and held it lovingly, caressing the deadly steel like a caring father would a pup. The mercenary otter inspected it, noting every scratch and nick. This blade had been through so much... caused so much pain... And it would cause more. To anybeast that threatened his friends. His face took on a concerned expression. Friends? Maybe not his friends, but he respected them and would help them out in their quest for freedom. Every creature in the world was entitled to that; freedom.



"Eyes ta' me! Listen up!" He shouted out, grabbing the attention of everybeast near him. "You were expecting your Skipper to lead you in this fight...He won't have the opportunity...instead I will."



Rogg looked over at the one who was speaking and shook his head smiling. Trying to be a general when he was just a Skipper of otters. They needed a military commander at a time like this, but the sea otter must have had a lot of experience in battle before, so it was the best thing in the end. Rogg would just do what he was supposed to do and not concern himself with tactics and the like, this was their battle, not his. He just needed to let go of his superiority complex that he had over the woodlanders. The young otter blushed and looked at the ground when SoSO came to the part about the other Skipper leading them. It was his fault... his love of money... Somehow, that was nearly always the thing that got him into trouble; money.


As Skipper spoke, Rogg's mind started to wander, he remembered the first time he had been in a full scale battle, he could remember nearly every word the general had said to his unit before they charged, he subconsciously began to softly speak the words out loud.
"There are deep motivations for war; power, greed, self preservation. But today we will fight for our families, for our homeland, for our very way of life. Many of you will not return with your lives, that is the way of war, but you will have died for the right cause.
Never betraying what is right,
consistent and just in all they do,
but showing pity also, and compassion"
The otter's jaw tightened.
"Into the mouth of hell we march."
Rogg reversed his grip on his sword, his usual style with the sword inverse of the traditional style, his gloved paws tightened, adrenaline pumped through his body, his whiskery face took on a deadly expression, his eyes looking dead with the hate and anger that he felt. Anger at everything. At what he had become. Anger at the vermin. Anger at the woodlanders for getting him into this mess. But mostly anger at himself for being such a heartless bastard and shooting that poor Skipper of Otters.


But all that was in the past. He concentrated all of the anger into one river of hate that flowed through him, giving him strength and determination, he was ready to kill some fools.

[Tirael]

Tirael did his best not to hear a word of the inflammatory war speech. He never got excited about fighting, never liked killing, and couldn't understand how anybeast did. He saw no glory in battle; he worked with the casualties, and glory didn't stop cuts from bleeding. For now, he simply stayed near his Skipper, with whom he really hadn't spoken at all. He didn't want to incite any undue emotion in his father, who was still fighting off poison. Getting him even more excited than he probably already was would do nothing good for his health.

He'd done all he could to avoid speaking--and really speaking, not just a 'yes' or 'no'--with the Skipper. He still felt sure that Skipp was ashamed of him, and he preferred to revert to the near-total silence of his youth than to face that. He couldn't bear to lose a second family, and somehow his mind decided that his father couldn't disown him if he couldn't bring the subject up.

Saddled with that unpleasant thought, along with a dread of the task he would soon be facing, Tirael waited forlornly for the battle to begin.

[Shor]

"Need any 'elp?" A seer who'd wandered into camp only days before now stood beside Rogg. A peculiar smirk had been plastered onto his face, which was odd, given the impending battle (He estimated it would start in two minutes or so.). "Well, Ah mean, Ah'm not really one t'march to hell -- not much fun there, Ah've 'eard -- but if ye need 'elp gettin' there. . ."

Lachlan rested both paws on his cane, one folded over the other. He was staring at the horizon, and his mind was presumably at work. Nevertheless, he spoke, gestured, and made expressions as though Rogg were directly in front of him.

The sea otter was dressed in his usual apparel, which made him stand out in the crowd of armed woodlanders. He wore a sort of navy blue jacket over a lighter blue shirt, black trousers, and muddy boots half-submerged in snow. The only weapon that he appeared to be carrying was a long knife, which he'd used hitherto for preparing fish that often became his dinner. Whatever creature he killed with it today, however, he did not intend on eating.

He spoke in a manner most casual. "Really, though, Ah think ye'd do best t'stick wi' me fur a whale. I'm no' much of a killer, but, Ah mean, er. . . Well, jus' lissen to wot Ah say, 'cos Ah'm pretty guid a', er. . . anticipatin' another beast's moves. . ."

Lachie had a way of ruining the moment. He didn't belong in this battle, nor had he any real reason to be there. Furthermore, he had to be aided by a cane to go anywhere, a handicap that was sure to kill anybeast in such a conflict as this. He was drawn to the battlefield, though, by two things. The first was Tampa, whom he felt quite a bit of sympathy for. A situation like this would be tough on anybeast, and on top of that, Lachie didn't want to see the ottermaid get hurt. In all honesty, he was attracted to her. Unfortunately, though, he simply could not find her in the mass of woodlanders. Almost serendipitously, however, he'd found Rogg, which leads to the second reason. You see, Lachie had always felt compelled to disrupt whatever semblence of order he stumbled upon. He was out of place, standing there amidst woodlanders bracing themselves for battle, and that was just how it was supposed to be. On the same side of the coin, Rogg looked ready to take on the world, therefore Lachie had felt compelled to strike up a nice conversation. Made perfect sense.

((So, when is this fight gonna start?))

[tacticalotter2]

"Need any 'elp?""Well, Ah mean, Ah'm not really one t'march to hell -- not much fun there, Ah've 'eard -- but if ye need 'elp gettin' there. . ."


Rogg's face broke into a bemused smile.
"I wasn't actually talking about dying, I've never died before, don't plan on doing it today, I was just remembering something somebeast told me a long time ago"
His paw clenched as he thought of that time... the war... But he forced his mind of the subject and turned to the other otter that had come up beside him.


He sized up the sea otter somewhat sceptically seeing that he was carrying a cane, but he also felt a twinge of compassion for a creature so young that had to have assistance while walking. But it was probably just a passing wound and he shook the feeling off. And then he saw that Lachlan apparently only had a long knife to fight with. He looked down at his own heavily armed and armored body and realized that not everybeast that went to fight was like him, in fact, he couldn't see any other creature that looked like they were ready for heavy fighting. He wondered if they really knew what they were doing....


Rogg sniffed the air, heard the low chatter in the background, the clank of weapons, the tension in the air, and took in a deep breath. He loved this type of thing, and the thing that was going to happen in a few moments; he was addicted to war.


"Really, though, Ah think ye'd do best t'stick wi' me fur a whale. I'm no' much of a killer, but, Ah mean, er. . . Well, jus' lissen to wot Ah say, 'cos Ah'm pretty guid a', er. . . anticipatin' another beast's moves. . ."


The mercenary otter gulped uncomfortably, somehow he wanted to be like Lachlan, not a killer, not having the desire to take life. He could feel his face grow hotter as he blushed. He knew what Lachie was talking about, but he couldn't resist a little humor"
"Anticipating another beast's moves, well I can do that, it's not that hard really, just a lot of years of sword fighting to know what they'll do just by looking at their eyes."
He shut his eyes tight in a look of great concentration and placed a webbed paw on the side of his head.
"It.... it is coming through, I can see it, yes it's getting clearer now, I sense that..."
He paused dramatically.
"That there shall be a battle here today"


He then sighed and rubbed his forearm ruefully.
"But anyway, just stay by me and I'll stay by you. But umm.... Sometimes I kind of move from one place to another fairly quickly, so if I say to move we will need to go right then; our lives are probably at stake. I'm sure we'll be able to help each other though in any case. I'm Rogg Streambattle by the way."

[Skipper of Sea Otters]

Tam stepped forward, holding high a javelin. "To Hellgates wi' the lot o' 'em, mateys! Lissen t'Skipper, Skipp asked him an' 'e leads us now!"
"Lets bathe in their blood tonight."
"Aye!" It was a deep voice, and the owner of it immediately stood out, the giant otter, Fogg; was lost in no crowd. "Lead on, Skipper mate!"



The Skipper dropped his cutlasses to his side and nodded to the beast around him. "Lead on...Gladly...."He jumped off the stumped and bounded through the trees, his own crew not far behind him, each of them filled with the lust for battle. The Skipper himself, was beginning to heat up as well. His fur became hot as blood circulated faster and faster through him, driving him onward, Adrenaline kicking in and his heels thumping the ground beneath his footpaws, mixing in the the rest of the rumble. "C'mon mates! They won't kill themselves! BAHAHA!"

[Shor]

Lachlan noticed the mercenary's expression, but let the thought rest in the back of his mind, and listened as Rogg continued.

"Anticipating another beast's moves, well I can do that, it's not that hard really, just a lot of years of sword fighting to know what they'll do just by looking at their eyes."

"Ach, no' their eyes, mate. They'll be lookin' a' yoreself t'see wot ye'll dae. Wot y'wanna do. . ." Lachie paused, unsure of how to continue. Come to think of it, he wasn't entirely sure as to what he did to "anticipate" things. He just did it.

Rogg shut his eyes tight in a look of great concentration and placed a webbed paw on the side of his head. "It.... it is coming through, I can see it, yes it's getting clearer now, I sense that..."

He paused dramatically. Lachlan's eyes widened a bit.

"That there shall be a battle here today"

Lachie stared at Rogg for a moment, his expression ashen. That was certainly not what he'd expected. The seer had gone to not-so-great lengths (but lengths nonetheless) to keep from letting anybeast know of his occupation, and this humorous gesture of Rogg's had startled him. But the sea otter regained his composure quickly.

Rogg then sighed and rubbed his forearm ruefully.
"But anyway, just stay by me and I'll stay by you. But umm.... Sometimes I kind of move from one place to another fairly quickly, so if I say to move we will need to go right then; our lives are probably at stake. I'm sure we'll be able to help each other though in any case. I'm Rogg Streambattle by the way."

Lachie smirked. "Ah'll keep up."

Keeping up, however, proved to be more difficult than he'd initially thought. Lachlan simply wasn't yet used to walking with his cane, let alone running. As everybeast around him thundered along at impressive speeds, he hobbled along as quickly as he could. Adrenaline helped him along, and his blue eyes darted around the area quickly. His mind raced, and the good old seer-nature took over.

The two sides clashed, and a delightful battle ensued.