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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Apr 19, 2009 23:20:52 GMT -6
“Ma’am?” A large, burly otter dropped in beside Laila, his steady trot seemingly unaffected by his many wounds. His kind face was wrinkled with worry lines, concern for the young shrew. “I’ll take ‘im, ma’am. Ye kin run faster, we’ll get ‘im to Tirael right enough.” The group slowed, a vanguard of strong moles popping up from behind the bushes, advancing with a few squirrels to prevent any pursuit from getting to the group while another beckoned the first slave forward to one of the many secret entrances to Camp Moss. Fogg held out his arms for Brend. “I’m Fogg.”
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Post by Tirael on Apr 19, 2009 23:45:46 GMT -6
“I’ll take ‘im, ma’am. Ye kin run faster, we’ll get ‘im to Tirael right enough.”
Laila looked up almost fearfully as a large, strong-looking otter appeared beside her. She didn't want to let go of Brend, but after a moment she knew the otter had a point. Sniffing, she carefully transferred her ward, managing to not trip over him. She wiped her eyes, trying not to look at Brend's wound.
“I’m Fogg.”
"I'm-m...Laila." She couldn't bring herself to talk about Brend, so she simply avoided the subject and ran without looking at Fogg. As an entrance loomed up, she began to wonder exactly where it was they were all going. Obviously somewhere better than Fort N'tashi, but that was all she really knew. In spite of her grief, she began to feel curious. However, as her maternal instinct dictated, she was wondering how life would be for her and Brend here. The thought that there might not be a Brend anymore brought a fresh surge of tears bursting out, regardless of whoever might be around.
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Apr 26, 2009 21:10:28 GMT -6
"Right. Okay, everyone, you heard Skipp, we've got to move out! Group one, follow your leaders that way. Group two, that way! Hurry now!"
Fern tucked her sling behind her belt, she was out of stones anyway, and picked up a swishy branch. It was her job to make sure this group left no tracks, something she’d been good at from a young age. Somehow this had surprised the Moss fighters. She nodded to Tir, she was ready, he could lead the group off now.
"Oh! Uh, Fern, this is my sister, Tampa." He had dropped the word 'adoptive' out of that description years ago. "Tampa, this is my...friend Fern,"
Tam accepted Tirael’s support, looking back at the young ottermaid Tir had turned to look at. “Nice to meet you Fern.” She said, smiling. She didn’t miss his slight hesitation in his voice, but didn’t comment on it as they started moving. Out of sight and sound of the fort, she spoke in a low voice. “So you’ve grown a few inches. And found a girlfriend?” She prodded him in the ribs with a finger. “Cute too. And nice.”
Fern nodded shyly to Tam. “Nice to meet you too, Tampa.”
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Post by Tirael on Apr 28, 2009 18:45:43 GMT -6
Tirael acknowledged Fern's nod, and the group began to run. Helping Tam along, he did his best to ignore the searing pain in his arm.
“So you’ve grown a few inches. And found a girlfriend?”
Laughing nervously, Tirael murmured back, "She's not my girlfriend, Tam." He had wondered for a while if everybeast actually thought that or if they were just poking fun at him; they all came to that conclusion rather quickly. It wasn't that he didn't want that; the complete opposite, in fact. Unfortunately, life hadn't exactly endowed him with much in the way of confidence, and building up the courage to admit to feelings like that wasn't exactly easy.
“Cute too. And nice.”
"Yeah," he replied, now distracted by his thoughts about Fern. He grinned and poked his sister back, wondering if she felt this way about anyone. The Fort had been out of sight for a while, and the entrance to Camp Moss was in the next clearing. Once they arrived, he called, "Everybeast listen up! Injured beasts and helpers in first, then others! Hurry now!"
[[Eeh...]]
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Maxodis
Hordebeast
We were born for this.
Posts: 161
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Post by Maxodis on Apr 29, 2009 21:44:24 GMT -6
The only thing louder than the despairing cries of the slaves that were left behind was the resounding thud of the heavy gates closing with a deathly finality. The squadrons of hordesbeasts who had secured the entrance proceeded to round up the disheartened creatures with no small amount of brutality. Slaves that had attempted to escape and failed were treated mercilessly, with no consequence whatsoever for the hordesbeast that committed the abuse provided the slave was not incapacitated after the deed was done. The belabored creature's wails quickly turned to sharp cries of pain as the hordesbeasts beat them cruelly. Most of the abusers in question had no personal vendettas against the slaves, none were enraged enough to take joy in their brutal act. It only took one look at their commander, however, for them to understand that it was his silent will that his anger be conveyed through them.
The commander in question was livid. How the gate had become open in the first place was still a mystery to Vsevolod. The hordesbeasts whom were tasked with guarding it had better been killed, for their sake. This ontop of the equal incompetence of the captain on duty at the time, where had that lout been while this mess had started? Speaking of, it appeared that Captain Lorna had been present for this disastrous failure as well. Her crew, in fact, had appeared to be engaged with the diversionary force at the other wall the entire time, while the slaves slipped out from under her tail! As much as the ferret would enjoy expressing his opinion about the situation to her, he reminded himself that he would have to keep a civil tongue until their little plot had carried itself out.
He gave a few sharp orders to the hordesbeasts that caused them to cease and begin to align the precious few slaves in an orderly fashion on the parade ground infront of their compound. Not a sound was heard from the broken creatures as he strode by, his dark boots pounding stiffly through the mud. He hailed Captain Lorna from the grounds below the wall.
"What ho, Captain Lorna! A word, if you please."
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Jun 2, 2009 9:13:59 GMT -6
Lorna snarled, dodging River’s shove, she prepared to follow, but just then the last gate slammed shut. How in hellgates had this happened? What was left of her crew gathered around, some cleaning blades but most stood to attention, saying nothing in face of their captain’s wrath. “Look at that.” Lorna said sweetly, motioning out at the fort. “Amazing what a pawful of slaves and woodlanders can do, isn’t it?” One of the newer ones, unused to her mannerisms, nodded eagerly in agreement, starting to speak. She was on him in a split second, her metal-studded cat-o-nine catching him across the face. He screamed, collapsing as she hit him again, almost casually.
“NO!” She snarled. “That was a coordinated attack, by scores of rebels! That should not happen! They had communication between the fort and Mossflower! We have a spy! And when I get my paws on—”
"What ho, Captain Lorna! A word, if you please."
“What!?” Lorna snarled, paws on hips, legs planted apart as she glared down at the interloper. Now her crew, the ones most dedicated to their not-so-stable captain, noticed several odd things. First, the vain vixen was dressed simply, without her usual flair, in dark clothes, second, she carried only a few of her many weapons. Even as they puzzled on what this may mean, Lorna shifted from furious to honey-sweet. “I don’t suppose you know who was on wallguard?” She asked, descending the wall as easily as if it had been stairs. She hadn’t grown up on a ship for nothing. “I’d really love to get my paws on that one.”
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