The Frozen North

[Faerd]

(This, my dear RWL'ers, is my last or second-to-last attempt at getting people interested in RP. I will be accepting anyone, however if I must i will ask you to kindly stop posting. You can do anything, however it must be within reason. If you are in a fight scene with someone, leave them a chance to dodge or block an attack, do not be an all-powerful-everyone-destroyer-who-never-gets-hurt! Getting hurt in battle happens to everyone! I will NOT accept ANY godmoding of ANY sort, UNLESS permission is granted by the person who controls the character to be godmoded. Restrictions now aside, write well, use your imagination, but most of all HAVE FUN!)

The gleaming ice creaks and growns, perilously thin with edges sharper than a ferret's tooth. A lone fox staggers along, hungry to the point of starvation, nearly-frozen. Snow falls in thick sheets only to be blown furiously away by the howling wind in a flurry of grey-white flecks. A mournful howl escapes the beast's lips, rising sharply only to be cut off as another blast of air whips by, doubling it over in pain and misery. A pathetic smile crosses its face as it limps onwards, its sanity obviously lost. A small light is seen in the distance and a small glimmer of hope appears in the fox's eyes. It nears the sight only to stagger backwards in agony, a knife protruding from its horribly-visible ribs. A mad cackle comes, and a second fox comes into view and begins gnawing upon the disgusting corpse with a gusto showing that it, too, has not eaten in days, perhaps weeks. The cruel sight soon is covered up by the snowfall, another life lost in the meaningless land...

Welcome... to the Frozen North

(Alright, basically this is an RP based in the northlands that are rarely mentioned within Redwall books. I have portrayed it, as you can see, as an unforgiving hellhole, where survival is valued above all else. This is where this RP is going to take place. The above was basically an example, an introduction, of sorts. Post whenever you feel like it, however please POST!!!

~Faerd))

[bjornredtail]

"Twenty-five knots, Captain.." a creature yelled above the squall, "they ain't going to believe me 'bout this back home..."
"Thank you!" the a young weasel replied, carefully making a some scratches in a leather notebook before returning his attention to the helm of his most unusual craft. In his mind he finished the crewbeast's thoughts. "They ain't going to believe us about a lot of this... "

As heavy as the squall was, he could still see the sun. The weasel carefully pushed the rudder to starboard. The craft nosed a few degrees away from the faint yellow dot on the southern horizon. No... They were not home quite yet. With a few orders, the weasel had the sails set for the new heading. Although their direction of travel had changed, the wind had not. Once again, the vessel picked up speed. The weasel peered forward through the masts and rigging and into gray distance. Nothing but ice... Flat soothe ice. Perfect.


This was no ordinary boat... Nor was this an ordinary voyage.  This was the culmination of nearly a year of an odd combination of madness, genius and desperation. The young captain had wished for riches, albeit for reasons more honorable than most. Instead he found a cheap schooner and an idea. He had heard of vast wealth to be found to the east, from spices, silk and other rare and valuable goods. Most who traveled this route went to the south... However, the journey to get there took many years, and was quite perilous itself. The new captain didn't have this time.  This called for a radical solution. He would travel North... The trip there had taken him over this stretch of sea before, but then it was open water. The return journey was riding the coat tales of winter. Instead of waiting for the ice to thaw again, the ambitious weasel had fitted the boat with skis. Through trial and error, he found the 'boat' to be capable of unimaginable speeds. So fast, he might just make it home in time for...


"Captain, time!" another creature called.
"Seaman, prepare to mark!" The captain ordered.
"Ready captain..." came the reply from the first.
The captain pulled an hourglass from his pocket.
"Mark!" cried the captain, flipping the hourglass. The other creature threw a device over the rail, which immediately took hold on the ice. He counted each knot in a long line attached to this anchor... One, two... Ten, Eleven... Twenty Five, Twenty Six, Twenty Seven.
"Mark!" the captain cried as the last grain of sand fell through the hourglass.
"Twenty Seven Knots!" The other creature replied.

The captain once again wrote the figures into his book. He calculated travel speed, distance out, time since last reading, and 'suspected' heading... And... Home was now due south.
"We are turning home!" he proudly announced, turning port this time. With a few more orders, the vessel trimmed to its new heading.
Once again, the vessel started to recover from its turn, picking up speed. It was a bit slower now... The gale was no longer beating at their backs but ripping across the deck. Unfortunately this also reduced visibility in front of of the little ice boat. All was lost to a sea of white... Wait... Was that a..
"Pull sail! Drop anchors!" The captain yelled above the storm. The crew snapped the action as he tugged hard on the rudder. A wall of ice appeared directly ahead, forced up by the vast pressure exerted on the sheet of ice. Within moments the captain knew they couldn't stop in time. "Hit the deck" he yelled, moments before...

With a thundering crash the bow of the converted ship smashed its way through the wall of ice. The skis and their improvised mountings were riped clean away from the front of the ship as the whole lot came from as fast as any of them had been in their lives to not in a matter of moments. Piles of snow and ice pummeled the deck as cargo and crew alike were sent flying. Finally, the ship settled in an upward incline, it's prow sticking through the long wall of ice, its stern, with the aft skis still attached resting on a sheet of ice.

The captain struggled to stand, then shouted "Report!" His crew was still alive, if a shocked from the whole ordeal. The captain claimed to the front of his craft, inspecting the damage. To spite the speed of the impact, the ship had faired fairly well... The cargo was still was intact. The hull had sustained some damage, but repairs could be improvised to make the ship seaworthy again. He climbed froward, onto the prow of the ship. Here, through the squall he could see tracks... Given the conditions, recent tracks. They were not alone.

[Sharptooh]

We'll here goes tell me if it's alright cause I've never tried role playing before:

  In a small tent pitched in the middle of a snow storm two vermin stood "Ripfang I expect a report on how things are going." complained a gruff old Stoat captain, this trip was to be one of his last as his season's were catching up on him faster than expected.
  "Some vittles left sir but I'm not sure if it's enough for the journey back." An equally gruff old weasel replied. "What about the troops?"
  "We've lost too many sir... I don't know what they'll say when we get back."
  "Well that doesn't matter right now does it! We need to get back and that's all that matters, if they decide to punish me see what I care, I've wasted my life serving them, if it's the last of me then so be it!"
  "Sorry byle I didn't realise you saw things that way." The weasel replied."Don't worry about it, this trip'll be the death of me at this rate, coming to the north was a big mistake, isn't that what I told them? But they wouldn't have it, would they?"
  "Well suppose they....."
  "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh"
  "What was that?" Byle replied shouldering past ripfang to grab his spear and blood red cape, with a sense of urgency.
  "Sir, don't go out there........ I never told you about that scout report did I."
  "I don't care any more ripfang." Byle arrogantly stormed out of the tent into the snow storm outside. Ripfang heard everything from inside.
  "What is that thing, hold yourseld together, encircle it then ahhhhh." Ripfang charged outside spear in hand just to see a huge dark figure disapear into the storm dragging byle, his arms were outsretched while being dragged behind as if beckoning for help, Ripfang charged through the snow after the dark figure, the other vermin saw him enveloped by the snowstorm, and decided they had to recouperate.
  "How many dead?" Asked a young well built Stoat.
  "Too many sir, I don't think the injured will last the night....."


Well how did that go?

[Faerd]

((My... Eff-ing... God............ Bjorn, that was AWESOME! Like really, that like, blew my low expectations away, no offense to everyone. Sharp, work a bit on getting your writing to flow smoother, but aside from that that was alright  :) I'll try to make a post when I get home from school... finishing work early ftw, but teacher's looking at me like he suspects somthing.))

[bjornredtail]

"Thousands of square nautical miles of open ice. Just who could possibly be up here... And what are they doing? Are they armed, are they a treat?" the captain thought, gazing into where the tracks met the gray of the storm.
"Captain!" a the first mate interrupted, "Shall we start digging our way out?"
"No... We haven't the light. Have the crew finish clearing the decks, we will shelter as we are tonight. And, if you would, see to the arms...." the captain replied, then lowering his voice, "I don't quite think we are alone out here."
"Yes, captain" the first mate replied, realizing this wasn't the time to ask how the captain figured that.

The captain grabbed a pick-adz and joined in the his crew's effort to clear the decks. With the crew numbering at twelve creatures, including the officers, noone was above working, particularly with efforts as critical as this. Within a few minutes they had returned the deck to it's pristine, pre-wreck state. The sun, little more than a little yellow dot in this squall, descended towards port.

"That is all for today... All except first watch go ahead and get some rest. First Watch, report to the mate and get your weapons." the Captain ordered. All but thee of the crew started for the hatch, as one of the watch asked, "Weapons?"
"Yes... " the captain started, when they heard it.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh..."
A cry of pain, albeit very faint one against the dieing wind.
"What was that?" one of the watch asked...
"Alarm!" the captain shouted, ordering "All hands on deck armed and ready to fight! This is NOT a drill."

One of the would-be watch hit the ship's bell, as a number of annoyed crewbeasts climbed from the hatch, wielding all manner of blades and bows.  The first mate emerged last, carrying a crossbow, its quiver, and a sword in it's scabbard. "I thought you might need these..." he said, handing the Captain these weapons. Taking both, the captain fitted the sword to his belt and then loaded the crossbow and swung it across his back. He climbed forward as the the rest of the crew franticly prepared for possible combat.

At the prow of the ship, he stopped, and looked off into the gray of the storm. In the dieing light, a figure emerged from the sheets of snow...

[Faerd]

((Sorry aobut the horribly short and terrible post, guys, i'm feeling awful and am at home so... yeah.))

The fox plodded weakly onwards, calling out to the looming shape in the distance before collapsing to the ground, quivering and spent. "H-elp..."

[Firetooth]

Grumble the stoat dragged himself along, cursing and kicking up dust. Then, he chuckled gladly as he saw a tree, he hobbled over to it and sat in the shade, a few minutes later, he dragged himself to his feat, groaning, then unsheated his dagger and cut himself a walking stick, then, sheathing his weapon walked away.
As he limped along, he heard a faint cry "H-elp..." and ran after it, his hurt paw forgotten. He reached an ingured fox, he was coughing and chocking, spams were flying through his body and he was turning purple. He panicked, he didn't know how to heal a fellowbeast, in desperation he cried out "HELP!"
ooc:sorry if i powerplayed a bit faerd :-\

[Sharptooh]

  A lone weaels trudging through the raging snow storm amblessley wobbled over to an overhanging piece of ice and collapsed underneath it, spear at hand. The bearly recocniseable body of captain byle lay before him, limbs ripped of, fur matted.
  "Sorry mate... looks like I got here to late." Ripfang mumbled to himself,he could feel that he wasn't alone though, he didn't want to end up like byle, that was for sure.
  "ha ha ha ha." A hoarse crackely came, "Who's there?" ripfang said before realising it was too late, a huge fihure loomed around the corner enveloped in a cloak, Ripfang instinctively threw hi spear at it, fearing for his life he threw with all his strength, his spear had hit the mark but the creature just snapped it off without a care, now he saw it; those cold murderous eyes, it came for him on all fours, he reached his sword but it was too late, as it picked him up and ravaged him all he could manage to choke up was a weak, " H-h-help." Then Ripfang was no more.

[Firetooth]

ooc:sharptooth, you're meant to carry on the story without controlling anyone else charecter, not make up your own story :P

[bjornredtail]

With a crunch through a thin layer of snow, the Captain hit the ice. As was his style, he was the very first off the ship, leading a squad of five, or half the ship's crew onward. The weasel drew his crossbow, taking aim at the figure before him, when another appeared. Signaling his squad to follow, he advanced slowly on the figure, when another appeared, dashing froward, then seeming to stop at the collapsed body of the first. Carefully holding onto a line that lead back to the ship, the squad continued its advance, when the captain heard a cry for help. Yet, the crew continued to advance cautiously. Whoever it was could wait, it was not worth the risk of getting lost or falling into a crevice in the failing light. They grew still closer, then the captain yelled out, "Greetings, strangers! Who are you... And are you armed?

[Faerd]

((ASLKDMLAKSMDLKAMSDKMASKLDMLKASMDLKAMSDLKMASD the forums ate my earlier (and much better) post! a;lkmsdflma192023 ahh what the hell... here goes))

The fox raised his paw, bringing it crashing down upon the ice with the strength brought on by desperation. A small crack appeared, slowly growing bigger until it became a hole large enough for him to lower his muzzle into, gulping the freezing water down. He gasped as the icy liquid flowed through his body, invigorating him and restoring what little was left of his strength so that as he looked up, his eyes met those of a stoat. "I'm... Fulkri..." he muttered, incomprehensible thoughts whirling through his head, along with his steady mantra which had stayed with him through the ages. Survive... He would go with these newcomers, regain his strength, and do what he could to live onwards. Fulkri had been in much worse situations than this and lived. Fulkri would survive...

[bjornredtail]

The captain cautiously approached the pair... Directly before him was a fox who appeared positively exhausted attempting to drink the water from a hole in the ice. A ways behind the fox a stoat approached over the frozen plane. A very faint reply from from the fox, "I'm... Fulkri..."
Signaling his the squad froward, he offered a paw to the creature, momentarily looking up at the stoat. "I'm Captain Ralph Bjorenson Redtail, of the merchant vessel Lady Jacqueline.."
As Redtail attempted to help the creature to his feet, it became clear that the fox would have trouble standing on the frozen plane without assistance. He signaled one of his squad to come forward, ordering, "Take him back to the ship..."
The captain turned his attention towards the stoat, who still stood some distance away, when a scary thought came to mind, "He was drinking the water... We are on fresh water! We must be thousands of nautical miles off course... We are lost..."
However, he would worry about that later. He cried to the stoat, "Do you know this creature?"

[Faerd]

((Selfless self-bump in hopes of getting someone to join who actually will stick with the thread...))

[Gen. Volkov]

The lookout sat upon a small mound of ice, shivering in the wind. His spyglass lay useless and forgotten at his side. He shifted slightly and bumped it, sending it rolling down the hill. Grumbling, he rose to his feet and went down after it.

"Like I can see anything in this rotten storm anyway", he grumbled to himself, as he climbed the mound once again. He turned and looked forlornly down the hill at the merry fire in the camp below.

They had been out here on the edges of their lord and leige's territory for three days, awaiting the arrival of a certain messenger who was bringing some very important news. That messenger was now overdue, and everyone, especially the captain, was becoming annoyed. Supplies were running low, and the captain had decreed that they would only stay one more day. He had then pointed to the poor unfortunate rat now sitting on the hill of ice, and appointed him lookout for the first watch. He had trudged out into the cold and wind and blowing snow, and assumed his position on the hill.

A figure loomed in the distance, nothing more than a vague shape.

"Finally," the lookout thought, "the blasted messenger is finally here, and we can go home".

He died with that thought in his head, and arrow protruding from his chest. More figures appeared on the horizon, as the leader, a tall  fox, lowered his bow.

"Alright boys, now lets go pay a visit to the nice captain".

Lowering their heads, they plowed onward through the storm, one of them carrying a pike with the messenger's head stuck upon it.

(I didn't want to join the little scene around the boat, so I started my own little story with an eye to eventually weaving this tale in with that one)

[Faerd]

((Sounds good. I'm gonna wait a day or two to see if Firetooth actually does anything substantial, and if not I'm just gonna have it so we have to ignore his previous posts and maybe restart the thread... I hate having to do that, but it's sorta the only option if he doesnt do something.))