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Post by Tirael on Mar 2, 2009 20:58:09 GMT -6
Total silence reigned in Mossflower. It was clear spring was coming; for the first time in weeks, the sun was out and one almost felt warm. A breeze drifted through the trees surrounding Fort N'tashi, once a welcoming sanctuary and now a hostel for filth and evil. The guards on the walls had grown laconic, and lounged about whenever their superiors were not present.
Had they truly scrutinized the woods, they might have seen the occasional rustle in the trees, the movement in the undergrowth. Most of Camp Moss' rebel fighters were hidden in the foliage surrounding the Fort. The day had come; they finally had the numbers and the means through which to take back those they loved: the slaves. No longer would they have to bear the thought of family and friends toiling under the whips of vermin.
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Join the squirrel narrowed his eyes slightly and watched the northern wall of the building. Brush's information had been correct, it was the worst defended of the four. Nodding to himself, he shot down from the tree he was in and was at the Skipper's side in moments. Leaning toward him slightly, he murmured, "Time to move." The murmur was passed on throughout the assembled; some nervous, some excited, some grim, everybeast readied for what was to come.
Tirael was among the nervous. His job was simple: help the slaves out once they made their way to the northern wicker gate, and help any who were injured. The second was inevitable, he knew, so he had made sure he was well stocked. This was last on his mind, however; he was only thinking of one thing. Please, please, let her come out alive, don't take her from us again, please, I can't lose her again, please, please, let her be safe... At this point, he cared about nothing, nobeast, but his sister.
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Brooke
Hordebeast
Don't question me
Posts: 153
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Post by Brooke on Mar 2, 2009 21:31:40 GMT -6
Brooke was a nervous wreck. On one hand, she was excited to see River again... if he gets out alive said a pessimistic voice in the back of her mind. She was quite worried as River would put all other beasts ahead of him, and if he would need too, he would die for the sake of everyone else around him. She gathered herbs that she would need to help the wounded. She would be glued to Tirael's side to protect him as she had been practicing her slinging, help the slaves get out, and to help Tirael heal the wounded.
While on one hand, she was excited, on the other was sheer nervousness. She was a nervous wreck, she kept thinking about all the things that could go wrong. She couldn't get the pessimistic voice in the back of her head to shut up.
As soon as the word got around that they were going to free the slaves Violet started honing her skills with her swords again. She knew that there was a tension running high, with the slaves coming back, but you didn't know who was coming back. Camp was full of nervous and excited beasts as they prepared for loved ones to come back. Violet spent a lot of time alone in the woods feeling out of place because she had no one that was a slave or was lost to the fort.
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Mar 2, 2009 22:09:51 GMT -6
"Time to move."
“Take your squirrels off, then, Join.” Skipper murmured back, then turned to Fern. “Go back to Tirael now, help him.” The burly otter chieftain hefted his heavy spear and checked his weapons again. He glanced around. “Everybeast ready? Hawk! Take your message.” He whisper-called into the upper foliage. Skipper strode forward a few steps and tossed a javelin arching toward the battlements. Smoking, it was the signal to begin the battle.
Fern gulped and nodded and faded back into the shrubbery, running back to Tirael. She nervously fingered the sling around her waist. “Tirael? Violet?” She called out, emerging into the clearing where she had left them.
Tampa huddled in the meager shelter provided for the slaves, her mind alive with plots. A falcon’s cry sounded outside, and she stood, pushing her way out of the huddle and looking up at the bird circling far above. She waved a paw in acknowledgement and returned inside to River’s side. “River.” She hissed. “Lets go.” She looked around.
“They know what to do?”
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Post by drake2 on Mar 2, 2009 23:06:12 GMT -6
Azrael flapped his wings and took of through the canopy of the forest and up into the sky before moving towards the fort, his role was not only to give the signal to the slaves but also to get an aerial view of the fort. He flew around the fort to the side opposite to the side that the rebels were attacking from, so if he was seen the guards would be alerted on the wrong side. As he flew near the fort he saw that the guards on the walls were not paying as close of attention as they should be. Azrael then let out a call as a signal. Unfortunately the signal also alerted some guards with bows who shot arrows at Azrael. The way the arrows were shot however allowed Azrael to take refuge in the trees, out of the archers' range. But he was still able to see a slave give a return signal. After doing this he flew back around, under the cover of the trees to where the rebels were.
"The signal has been given and received, I cant give you much information on the guards other than that some of them have bows. Just tell me if you need a guard taken out."
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Post by Tirael on Mar 3, 2009 0:37:54 GMT -6
“Take your squirrels off, then, Join.”
Join nodded, and went back to the trees. The other squirrels followed, taking the best locations in the foliage from which to fire weapons without being fired at themselves. Other rebels fought from the ground, making sure to be as distracting as possible. Their fight was, after all, a cover for the escape.
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“Tirael? Violet?”
Tirael turned quickly; a bit hurriedly, he rushed to Fern. Emerging into the clearing, he found her and walked up to her. "I'm right here, Fern, it's..." He trailed off, deciding that saying "it's alright" didn't sound quite right. Looking down, he said a little more quietly, "Come on, we've got work to do." Taking her paw, he lead her back to where the others are. He felt dread, knowing each step took him closer to the jarring reality of war. Fern's paw in his comforted him somewhat.
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Laila scanned the Fort grounds warily; as planned, the guards were busy defending the western and southern walls. Helping to shepherd the slaves, she kept a careful eye on Brend. Leaving off that task, she went to her pallet, which she cast aside hurriedly. With the help of two other slaves, she soon had their meager weapons store out: a pawful of rusty daggers, knives, farming implements, broken spears, makeshift slings, and stones. Passing them out to the more war-capable slaves, she said, "It's about time we used these," grabbing herself a dagger. For once, she didn't want to fight; with any luck, the plan would go off without a hitch, and nobeast would get hurt.
Well, not any slaves, that is.
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Mar 3, 2009 21:07:26 GMT -6
"I'm right here, Fern, it's..." He trailed off, deciding that saying "it's alright" didn't sound quite right. Looking down, he said a little more quietly, "Come on, we've got work to do."
“I know.” Fern said, looking around. “The falcon flew and Skipp gave the signal.” Like many in the holt, Fern had softened and eased up on her tense and shy manner enough to call Skipper by his nickname. The mainly easy-going ways of said Skipper made this easier. Fern had a lot of friends in the holt now, and she worried about their safety in this battle.
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Tampa grabbed up a spear that was mostly intact, missing a spearhead, she had lashed the dagger Jakk had given her to the tip, sharpened on both edges it was a dangerous weapon. Balanced with her own dagger, she could hold her own. She nodded to Laila, who was leading the slaves out.
“I’ll keep the guards busy.” She smiled a grim smile and slid sideways, around the side of the building where she could watch the guards. Once out of sight she let out a long-held breath. Her thoughts flew to her uncle and brother. They were both to be in the operation today. She knew Skipper could take care of himself, but what of Tirael? She worried a minute longer, then pushed it to the back of her mind. She had business to care for.
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Brooke
Hordebeast
Don't question me
Posts: 153
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Post by Brooke on Mar 3, 2009 21:23:55 GMT -6
Violet took deep breaths... In, out she thought. She pawed at the two hilts of her swords resting at her hips, ready to slice through the worthless hides of those vermin. The vermin who had put her, Brooke, and the rest of the good-beasts in Camp Moss. She was ready for them to die under her paw. She grimaced at the thought of all the killing she would have to do, but for the sake of the inhabitants of Mossflower. She was ready. She looked over to where Skipp was waiting for him to give the order for her to lead the attack on the Western wall.
Suddenly she saw the smoking javelin shoot up into the air... One last deep breath and then she let her mind succumb to its natural warrior instincts.
Brooke tensed her paw around her sling ready to crack at the vermin while everyone else assisted with getting the slaves out. While waiting for the signal, she let her head wander and her thoughts fell upon River, gallant, noble, River. She hoped with all her heart that he would make it out alive to help with the rest of the rebellion.
Then her mind fell upon someone else, Danol the newcomer. Danol was a good friend and a valiant fighter. This was his first battle with the rebellious woodlanders and she hoped that he would make it out to meet River. While her mind wandered, all around her the atmosphere became more and more tense.
She turned towards the sky and saw the javelin go up. She quickly loaded her sling, then suddenly Tirael was on the ground clutching his arm. She helped him get the mouse he was tending and himself behind a tree. She ran to make sure that no one else was injured. She swept the area with her eyes, seeing no one on the ground she whirled her loaded sling and started shooting at the guards.
River ran with Tampa and Laila, following their lead he grabbed a roughly shaped spear and proceeded to the end of the procession to lend a paw to the weaklings. River saw Tam get ready to provide an inside distraction.
"Tam, be careful!" he muttered. As he waited, he thought about Brooke. Ah Brooke, I've missed you so much... he thought. Thinking about his little sister made him even more eager to fight and better yet to survive. He re-gripped his spears and bent down to the aged mouse in front of him.
"Get word to Laila that we are ready back here and to get everyone on the move! Pass it up sharpish!" He whispered to the mouse who instantly turned to the squirrel in front of him.
[[There, how was that]]
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Post by Tirael on Mar 4, 2009 18:51:47 GMT -6
“I’ll keep the guards busy.”
Laila nodded as she continued to get the slaves into small groups; moving in one large mass would be noticed too easily. "Don't do anything you don't have to. Oh, and Tam..." She stopped momentarily and turned her head towards her friend. "I expect to see you out there once we're all free." Pausing again, she finished with "Good luck to ye," and resumed her task. Once she finished, she raised her voice to say, "Alright, everybeast listen! We'll go one group at a time, just like we planned! Stay near your group guard and don't let me catch you doing anything stupid! We're all gonna get out today, so long as you all do as we planned!" Looking over the ragged population of slaves, she nodded at a squirrel in charge of the first group. He nodded back, then led his group furtively toward the north wall. Laila mentally prayed this would all work out.
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There is something to be said for being extremely busy; it keeps you from being preoccupied by your emotions. Though he still worried for his sister and father (it felt odd, calling Skipper his father; he usually just said 'Skipp', like everyone else), he had so much to do there was little time for concern. At this moment he was tending to a squirrel who would had been knocked out of a tree by a slingstone. He'd had Fern soak a bandage in cool water, and was applying it to the squirrel's forehead when an arrow thudded into his upper arm.
"Ah!" he gasped in pain and surprise. He whipped his gaze around to the shaft protruding from his right arm. He examined it quickly; fortunately, it had not gone too deep. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes and grasped the arrow, pulling it out and grunting in pain. Flinging it angrily away, he clapped his left paw to the wound to staunch the blood flow and reduce the pain, however ineffective it was. Realizing whoever had fired the arrow would probably fire again before long, he said through clenched teeth, "Fern, help me get her behind that tree." Once they were safely behind cover, he could deal with both himself and his patient.
[[Yay, war wounds!]]
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Maxodis
Hordebeast
We were born for this.
Posts: 161
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Post by Maxodis on Mar 4, 2009 19:53:27 GMT -6
It was hard to think with the cacophony of noise going on outside.
Captain Vsevolod Petrenko had done much thinking as of late. Many were mystified at his suddenly mellow demeanor, at how the Captain sometimes broke his habit of his morning rituals as he gazed out over the eastern wall, lost amid his thoughts. More were concerned with his irrationally violent behavior that would occur when somebeast dragged him out of his stupor in order to give a report, or something of equally minor priority. More than one had fallen victim to the ferret's cleaver as of late. Some were curious to his strict avoidance of any and all slaves. All knew it would be better to keep their thoughts to themselves.
This day found the Captain in his private quarters, in the company of a ghost. He had sat at his small table for hours, considering the drinking glass in his claws that had long since been drained of vodka. Occasionally he would chuckle softly to himself in remembrance of some bygone memory, but his mirth was never long-lasting. A dim pain was evident on his features, so much so that he had long since become accustomed to the soreness associated with furrowing one's brow for hours on end. At times, he would sit like this for hours. Sometimes he sat there at his table for days. There was always some essential task that would draw him away, however, be it food or sleep.
The distant yells from what could only be the ramparts were starting to become a nuisance. Fighting erupted fairly often within the horde, but were always short-lived. This was clearly something more. Sighing with resignation, he recalled that he would probably be the one expected to see to it that order was restored, if none of the other captains had taken care of the problem by now. Things would have to change.
The Captain was in full uniform and armed within minutes, a skill he prided himself on. He shrugged his shoulders to settle the longbow and quiver of arrows better against the thick coat. Some others prided themselves with embellishments and adorned themselves fancifully. Vsevolod had found that with a little application, simplicity inspired fear and respect all the same. He strode quickly through the wide hallways of the building, ordering everybeast he saw to him as he made his way to the grounds.
It did not take the Captain long to ascertain that there was some sort of assault being made on the Western and Southern Walls, the latter apparently more violently than the former. Anger darkened the ferret's features. An attack? Here? How preposterous. What a meaningless waste of time. He was distracted for this? A short burst of cynicism cackled at Vsevolod for harboring more anger on a personal level than in regard for the reputation of the Fort and its inhabitants.
So angered was the ferret that he made a beeline for the nearest stairway to the ramparts...
... and strode right though the slave encampment.
He made it to roughly the center of the camp before something told him something was wrong. It took the ferret several seconds to realize with bewilderment and then dismay where he was before he recalled that there was something more imperative to concern himself with. A few seconds of close observation proved that there was no sounds to be heard within the camp, nor slaves in sight to make them. He blinked in shock. If the slaves were not here, then where could they be? Almost instinctively, the ferret was on the ground, studying the mass of tracks left in the mud. It did not matter that the area had been stepped on my many creatures on a regular basis, recently, there had been some sort of mass move in a single direction. He looked up in the direction that the tracks led.
To the North. Directly away from the combat.
Something snapped within the ferret, some long pent-up frustration finally given an outlet to surge from. He let out an enraged howl that caused the score of hordesbeasts trailing behind him to start in fear. Lunging to seize the unfortunates closest to him, he barked off orders in quick succession.
"Go to the wall, have those fools stop fighting whomever it is they're fighting and have them all go to the northern wall, NOW!"
"You three! Return to the main building! Grab everybeast you see and have them assemble at the northern gate, armed."
"You! Yes, you, scumbag! Find the other captains, inform them that the slaves are attempting an escape! Take another if you have to, but get it done!"
The last order had to be completed with a solid kick to the creature's rear, as the frightened beast realized that not only would he be expected to inform the other captains, but the mentally instable N'Tashi as well. Some messengers didn't make it out of the warlord's quarters alive these days. That was not Vsevolod's problem.
He nodded sharply to the fifteen beasts left under his command before taking off for the Northern wall, bringing longbow to paw as he ran, his boots obliterating the relatively light tracks left in the mud. Those behind him wordlessly armed themselves and followed their unpredictable Captain. Blood would be spilled on this day.
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Post by drake2 on Mar 5, 2009 23:28:57 GMT -6
Azrael was spending his time thinking over various ways that this battle could co and various strategies and counter strategies that could be used by either side. Also, he was going over his role in the battle .
Okay, so as the raiding and distractions are taking place I'm to act as a supply line and bring arrows and the like. After that, if any enemies follow the slaves into the forest I'll be there to help keep them back.
Azrael flapped his wings twice and then began to preen.
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Mar 6, 2009 22:25:06 GMT -6
"Ah!”
Fern looked up, surprised at the outburst from Tirael. Her eyes narrowed with sympathy as she saw the arrow in his arm. Tir yanked it out with hardly (it seemed) a thought and continued on with his doctoring.
"Fern, help me get her behind that tree."
Fern gritted her teeth and helped drag the squirrel behind a tree, anger beginning to boil in her. She truly understood the woodlander’s purpose now. She stepped out from the tree, going forward a few paces to where the trees thinned. She launched off a few well aimed stones in quick succession.
________________________________________
Having already killed a rat racing to the walltop , Tampa made short work of most of said messengers, though a few slipped through. Tossing the now useless bow, she started to cut across and around the slave complex.
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Lorna Russetfur had not been in the best mood these last few weeks. Just now she was passing through the Mess hall of the fort, armed to the teeth in anticipation of the battle she had seen from her window. A frightened and frantic stoat hailed her, and she stopped impatiently to hear his babble of news. Furiously, she stabbed him in the heart. Rolling his fallen body over with a kick, she took note of the arrow buried to the fletching in his back. Feeling little remorse, the fox captain spun on her heel and stalked to the office/den of N’Tashi.
Bang!
One kick, and the door flew inwards, somehow still on its hinges but barely. “Get up, you simpering sot! You sit in here day after day, allowing your horde to go to ruin along with yourself! Now your slaves are escaping!” The vixen railed at her commander.
Finishing and without awaiting a response, she did an about face and marched off, motioning her stunned and terrified troops after her.
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Maxodis
Hordebeast
We were born for this.
Posts: 161
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Post by Maxodis on Mar 7, 2009 12:41:19 GMT -6
Fire again. Always fire. Or was it blood? Something red, that much was certain. It was warm, almost painfully so. But if it was fire, then wouldn't he be smelling his own singed fur, his own burning flesh? On the other hand, were it blood, would he not be able to feel the dense stickiness of the crimson substance? Were it his own, would he not be suffering from the effects of blood loss? Perhaps he already was. It would explain the confusion.
What the fallen warlord did not know was that he was neither on fire nor drowning in a pool of his own blood. Rather, he was lying inert on his grimy bed, covered from whiskers to tail in a deep red sheet like a death shroud. Sometimes the old stoat was aware of his surroundings, but those moments were few and far between. Occasionally he would be shaken out of his stupor by an intruder, dithering in an incomprehensible language. Sometimes he killed the strangers, sometimes he let them go. Other times he would be alerted by the reports of messengers. Sometimes the strangers looked a lot like the messengers, particularly as they writhed on the ground in their throes of death.
There was a little sound off in the distance, there always was. Occasionally a scream could be heard. The stoat's breath was cut short. Red. Screams. Confusion. Was he dreaming again? Sweat bled fitfully from his brow as he shuddered uncontrollably. His perception narrowed down to a single point as he listened to his ragged breathing and the blood pounding in his ears. A moment stretched into infinity of agonizing fear. Minutes passed. Nothing happened.
BANG!
The terrified stoat went completely stiff in mindless terror as his ears were bombarded by an overwhelmingly large amount of noise, none of it comprehensible in a conventional sense, the only thing discernible was that the tone was dangerously hostile. His mind made some effort to make sense of this, but failed and finally broke.
As soon as the assault had come, it was gone, leaving N'Tashi still frozen solid and unmoved from his position. He could not breathe, and a intense pain gripped his chest. Panic riddled his mind until he was forcibly lulled into the deepest caress of sleep.
Without, the fort was a den of chaos. Half of its occupants were aware of the attack, but only a few knew where to go, much less what to do. The few messengers who had made it through had done their jobs and were gratefully slipping away from the insanity, to a safe place were they could hide, lest they have failed their Captain in any way.
Their Captain was uncharacteristically enraged. There were only sixteen armed beasts, himself included, that were currently opposing the slave's escape. A quick glance to the walls proved that a good number of hordesbeasts had received the message and were moving to the Northern wall, as ordered. The question was if they could move fast enough. It didn't help matters that a single slave armed with a bow had managed to make shots at his messengers at a distance and with an accuracy that was illogical. A slave, who had somehow procured a bow and arrows. A slave? Who couldn't possibly have enough experience with a bow to make a shot like that, much less four? Insanity.
The Captain halted suddenly, allowing those under his command to surge past him towards their objective. They knew to kill any armed beast. Slaves were, after all, expendable. Vsevolod found no hesitation in drawing back his longbow, sighting a meter-long arrow on the troublesome otter. How easy it would be to kill her, but that would be too simple. He let the arrow fly, its fletched shaft whisking away with a deadly hum. At this mere distance, the arrow would fly true and fast, neatly impaling the otter's leg. As planned.
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Brooke
Hordebeast
Don't question me
Posts: 153
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Post by Brooke on Mar 7, 2009 14:16:35 GMT -6
River held his spears ready to defend anyone. Laila started to get the first couple of groups to the gate, but then he heard her, Lorna, the source of his hatred and the one who had caused him all of his pain, yelling out orders left and right. Suddenly he was urged to go after her, his hatred burning.
"Go on without me, I have some unfinished business to attend to." It was all he could do to form a coherent sentence before dashing off to find where the vile fox was...
Violet fired off arrow after arrow, aiming for anything that put its head over the battlements.
"Is everyone Ok on arrows?" she yelled out to the other creatures with her. She looked down to her own quiver and saw she was almost out. Ughh she mentally groaned. She had three arrows left and Azrael was no where in sight. While she had been looking down, some rats got the courage to shoot at her. An arrow thudded deeply into her arm, while a stone whacked her footpaw. She inhaled sharply and pulled the arrow out. She cut a strip off of her cloak to bind it until she could get to a healer, but she didn't know if she would be able to make it with her foot being injured... What should I d.... suddenly she blacked out.
Brookesong helped the slaves get from place to place all the while scanning the crowds for her brother's familiar sparkling green eyes. She scooped up two young ones absentmindedly and hurried them to the safety of the trees for the others to help. There was a short pause in the slaves coming and she took advantage of that time to fire off a few stones at the few vermin standing on the wall. Still no sign of River and she was starting to get worried.
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Post by Tirael on Mar 7, 2009 16:14:14 GMT -6
Laila looked up sharply at the sound of approaching soldiers. Eyes widening, she was galvanized into action. "Alright, everybeast move, too late for secrecy now! Come on, run!" A few of the groups had made it to the gate in secret; now, instead of furtive, small groups, the slaves ran en masse. Laila and the group leaders then took up defensive positions, using their slings to hold back the small number of attackers threatening their escape. The shrew was surprised at the relatively tiny force that was trying to keep the slaves from escaping; she had expected more of a boundary than this. Feeling the anger rise up in her, she slung stones with a vengeance. Now was the time for the revenge she had craved for so long...
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Once the squirrel was safely behind cover, Tirael set to work on his arm. Slapping a poultice on the wound, which was bleeding freely, he ripped off a length of bandaging. Holding one end with his teeth, he wound the other end around the wounded area tightly, knowing he had to finish before he lost too much blood. Tying it off, he tested the arm. It hurt, but he could work with it for now. Propping up his patient against the tree, he finished working on her and looked around for anybeast else in need of help. His insides churned as he saw Violet go down. Scrabbling up, he grabbed his supplies and sprinted for her, saying swiftly to Fern, "Come on, Violet's hurt!" Hurriedly he began his work.
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Mar 7, 2009 16:51:40 GMT -6
Skipper was in the midst of the fighting on the west wall, having slipped around there to lend a paw. He already had several wounds, fortunately minor. Some minor officer had organized his troops to rush out from the wallgate and engage directly with the enemy. Skipper spun his loaded sling on a short leash, smashing skulls and kneecaps and bones alike.
Tampa had just left the protection of a building and was dodging across an open space when she heard the whir. She only had time to turn her head and gape in disbelief before it buried itself in her leg. She gasped, too overcome by the sudden pain to think of a coherent thought, and stumbled, doing a heads-over-heels imitation of a bowling ball.
Sitting up, she crawled behind the nearest shelter, and sat, leg stretched before her, to assess the damage. Now the bruised and injured otter chose the time to say a few choice words on what the shooter could do with his bow. She examined the wound, the arrow was in too deep for her to take out now. Instead she gritted her teeth and broke it off short. Now she had to get out with a limp and hopefully nothing more. She stood and began walking, more cautiously this time.
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