Of Love and Strength

[Faerd]

A lone squirrel stood amidst the wreckage of a battleground, battered, bloodstained, and beaten. All about him the corpses of various vermin lay, most peppered with arrows that sprouted from their body like branches from a tree, the rest rent with so many claw-wounds one could hardly see the flesh that covered their body. The squirrel moved silently amongst the carnage, searching, ever-searching. Finally he knelt down, a terrible cry wrenched from his body. The sound echoed throughout the wood, eerily muted from the distance. A female squirrel, impaled upon a spear, slowly reached out with a hand, the other clasping it, tears falling freely. Soon her hand went limp, a gasp escaping her lips as she drew her last breath. Yet another cry echoed through the trees and the first squirrel fell to the ground, blood-loss and grief encompassing him as he fell into the welcoming hands of unconsciousness...

((Hey there this is my first try at Roleplaying on these forums, so comments/criticism would be nice. I love to write and loved the redwall books so... yeah =D Anyone is welcome to join but godmoding isn't allowed unless the person being god-moded gives permission.))

[Firetooth]

great story, more more more! :-D

[Arguia Zsah]

Quietly a small, slim figure was making its way through the forest, passing from shadow to shadow, ever cautious to remain unobserved by any who might be in the vicinity. Any observer who managed to catch a glimpse would have seen that the figure was a stoat, with fur of the purest white. It wore a long, black travelling cloak with a hood pulled low over its eyes. More than this would have been harder to tell, although many who meet her, and it was a ?her?, remembered her piercing green eyes for longer than they remembered anything else.

She was a mystery, perhaps even to herself. None had got close enough to know her for many years, not since... But nostalgia served no purpose now. It never had. Time keeps ticking, and she knew it all too well.

Hearing a noise up ahead, the stoat slowed and surreptiously pulled a short jewelled dagger out of its hiding place on her thick black leather belt hidden beneath her cloak. Quickly a small paw checked the position of the other weapons she had hidden about her person and pulled the hood lower. Taking more caution than before, she crept forward to seek the source of the noise.


[OOC: sorry for the shortness...]

[Firetooth]

great both of you PLEASE write more :-D

[The Lady Shael]

[Firetooth: This is a role-play, not a story. If you're not going to make a role-play post, don't say anything at all.]

[Faerd]

((Thx for the comment, this is an open RP though truth be told, i have to still decide where i want this to go so anyones pretty much welcome. If ya want  to join feel free =D))

A lone eagle circled the blood-stained ground, a good mile above yet close enough to scent the taste of fresh meat. With a screech it dove, poking warily at the remnants of a fox and hopping back. As no movement occurred it grew bolder, pecking at its face before tearing into the flesh, blood and bits of bone flying through the air in a frenzy of talons and beak. Tottering over to the next the eagle did not hesitate before pecking at it, a squirrel perhaps, but one could not be sure from the mass of wounds portrayed over the body. The squirrel gave a groan, coughing up blood, and the eagle quickly sidestepped. Seeing the squirrel stop it strode forwards cockily, pecking at the congealed blood upon its victim's forehead. The squirrel this time lashed out with a footpaw, smashing the eagle's wing with enough force to cripple it. The eagle cried out in pain, hobbling awkwardly away and jumping in an attempt to fly, only to fail again and again. Stopping it cocked its head, a new scent entering its nostrils. Something... alive? Hopping forwards the eagle noticed a pair of eyes and dropped to the grassy floor as well as possible. Coming up behind the beast, it spoke, its voice bold and angry. "Who are you who disturbs my eating?! Answer quickly or die!"

Faerd was alive. The sole fact confirmed by the constant waves of pain wracking his body. He snapped open an eye only to close it immediately, the sudden light blinding. Something pecked at him twice and he rolled over, the pain of the strikes mingling with those of his now-reopened wounds. It attacked again and he lashed out with the last of his strength, foot making contact with the unknown assailant who fled, the sounds of its footsteps slowly growing distant. Getting to his hands and knees Faerd retched, blood and food spewing over the already blood-soaked ground. Crawling forwards towards something, anything that could be shelter, he reached out with a forepaw, grabbing hold of the gnarled bark of a tree. Propping himself up against it he collapsed once more....

[windhound]

A young fox limped noisily through a forest.  Formerly of the horde that battled Faerd, he had deserted when he saw the tide was turning.
"Dangit windy," he muttered.  "Why.  Why did you stick with those addlebrains?  Probably gone and got themselves all kill'd now."
He continued, paying no heed to noise or the trail he was leaving.
"And just lookit my paw!  Dang'd squirrels shootin' arrers."
He paused by the side of a slow creek and gingerly lowered his injured paw, pulling it back sharply when the tip touched the icy water.  Steeling himself, he grimaced and plunged his leg in knee deep.  Yowling, he jerked it back out.  But the wound was now well coated in mud, so after tying a dock leaf around it he set himself down by the creek.
Watching it moodily he came to the conclusion that it was probably best to head back to the battle ground, for surely by now it was won one way or the other.  If he comrades had pulled through he might sneak back and pretend he'd never left.  Else..  well.  He could most likely find some food packs lying around and a weapon or two.
The dead don't need either after all.

[ooc- eh.  rusty, but thought I'd join in for a change...  for now atleast]
edit: spag.  who needs it.

[Firetooth]

The young wildcat opened his aching eyes, his sword was in his hand, blood-coated, but still intact. Corpses of rats, stoats, any vermin imaginable littered the floor. Skinner the wild Marten wanted what Bramblefire the Wilcat warrior owns, and he would have to fight for it.
As Bramblefire walked accross the corpses, he groaned, he recognized his childhood frind, Bluetooth the Warrior, a huge badger, lying unmoving.

[Arguia Zsah]

The stoat soon reached the source of the noise, and stopped in disgust. War, did it never stop? Endless slaughter, for what purpose?

She stood, gazing over the scene, hand on dagger. She had never got used to the sheer cost to life of war. Other methods were available, and that was why she had come here, across all these weary miles. Days, months of travelling, constantly marching on with weary paws towards some distant goal. That was why she came here... part of the reason she came here. The other reasons... well, the least said about those the better in her opinion.

Pulling out a worn cloth bag from one of the pockets in her cloak, she brushed a fine black powder over her face and hands. Her fur instantly took on a black shade. White fur was seldom a good colour to avoid unwanted attention, as she had learned in the past.

Affecting a slight limp and stooping slightly, she made her way ever cautiously onto the edges of the battlefield. Perhaps there would still be some here who could be ?of assistance?, who could help her on her way willingly or not.

[Firetooth]

Bluetooth was dead. Bramblefire's best friend was gone. He wiped crimson blood ogg his tunic and sheathed his sword, suddenly, the sun shone brigtly, making his ginger fur, even though matted, shine like a fire.
"I will add some of your name to mine, my friend" vowed Bramblefire "from this day I vow to never use a sword again, only my claws and teeth, from now on my name will be Firetooth, the complete destroyer of the weak, destroyer of my enimes, more powerful then death"
  Firetooth was no ordinary cat. He was the size of a lion.

[Faerd]

((Arquia, the eagle was talkin to you just fyi, and I sort of need someone to discover Faerd for me to continue this >< sorry bout that))

[pippin the mighty]

Bramble, a lone otter dibbun walked on, thinking nothing but death. His father tarano, a brave soldier staggered behind him, shouting for his son to stop, but bramble kept on walking. When bramble reached the clearing he stopped, inspecting the army before him, lead by himself. Even though he was a dibbun he did not act like one, when his father caught up bramble raised his hand. Immediately an arrow hit his chest and he fell to the ground, dead.

A tear fell down his face, but swiftly bramble brushed it away. His father was a warrior, a true warrior. But bramble didn't have feelings, he killed mercislesly without a second thought. Him being a dibbun need help surporting his army, but now he was getting older he had no need for his father. His army of wolfs, stoats and otters were standing in rows not daring to move.

Like it? didnt take long so might not be too good

[Faerd]

((Pretty good =D It would add a funny touch if, persay, the "army of wolfs, stoats, and others..." were a group of dibbuns playing make-believe & the arrow is made of a stick attached to a strawberry or something =D))

[Arguia Zsah]

((Arguia, the eagle was talkin to you just fyi, and I sort of need someone to discover Faerd for me to continue this >< sorry bout that))

(OOC: Apologies, I assumed it was to your character. Can we just pretend it was to someone else? My character's on her way... =o
Oh, and firetooth, please use some form of OOC for the sake of following the story?)

BIC:

As the stoat moved further towards the battlefield, her ears twitched. Someone was there, someone was nearby. Slowing still further, she crept more cautiously than ever before towards the presence she felt. As she moved yet closer, she could hear tired, strained breathing. Whoever it was, whatever it was, it was injured. This was no cause for lessened awareness though; it is too easy to fake injury and to ambush those who come unprepared. Not her, she was never unprepared.

Soon she glimpsed the creature she had sensed. A squirrel, young, blood-splattered, using a tree as a support. She grew closer, and stood, observing, behind a nearby tree. The squirrel seemed oblivious to its surroundings, yet alone her presence. He seemed unlikely to pose a serious threat, and, although he was not what she had hoped for, perhaps he could assist her for a while.

Stepping into the open space, she coughed lightly and waited for him to turn around.

[Firetooth]

Firetooth saw a female stoat. A dagger hung lossely from her belt, she looked peaceful but the fire of a warrior lit up her eyes.
   "beware the one who does not want to fight" a craoky voice ringed as Firetooth turned restlessly