The Missing Messengers [Site plot, pt. I]

[Sandegar]

"I'm a darned fool," he muttered, and kept walking.

He was the hare known to most as Sandegar, and he had been walking for longer than was right. He was known by name to all who knew him, and rarely ever by any title of any sort. He knew better than anyone that he was undeserving of any title that he may have ever earned, and there were plenty of those, all of them haunting him from the shadows of his memories.

One of the reasons that he had lost his titles was presumably his inability to plan ahead. He had heard murmurs of the Guardian's gathering from the cosy halls of the abbey, and the seriousness of the matter had, amazingly, bypassed him completely. He had been too engrossed in his own self-pity and escapist ventures to understand the threat hanging over the land; though that could have been a side effect of the odd concoctions that the healer vixen had cooked up for his pains.

He'd come to his senses far too late. As a result, he'd trekked with a vengeance through his beloved forest to his equally beloved fortress, daring to hope that this love was requited. But regardless of how the Guardians thought of him now, he'd known with absolute conviction that he had to return, for reasons that had seemed unclear, and mostly driven by blind passion. Now clear of the mind-numbing sedatives, he believed himself reunited with his mental faculties, and he had stumbled across the real reason for his conviction--there was danger 'round the corner, and it was his responsibility to see that it went away, preferably with its tail between its legs.

Unfortunately for him, the return of his mind also meant the return of the pain. Through a combination of bad luck and his own stubborn stupidity, his right shoulder was mostly torn apart and having a hard time healing, hardly aided by the collar bone that had been, until recently, snapped clean in two. So he walked now with a resounding grunt for every step he took, each step taken by boots caked with mud, along a familiar path seen through wearied eyes. The dull, aching pain was echoed by the understanding that he was quite probably late, and to an event he should have arrived for weeks in advance.

Nevertheless, after a good day and night of walking, he'd made it, and better yet his confrontation with the old Fort could wait. He'd learned that the gathering was supposed to take place outside the fortress, and sure enough the crowd was visible, and his eyes, the keen, selective eyes of an archer, picked out familiar figures from among the strange. There was a good number of all sorts assembled there, enough that he didn't care to count, but it weighed heavily on him that he recognized one, two, maybe three of the assembled. How times change, he thought, and rarely for the better.

It was Shard talking. The hare settled into the back of the crowd, listening carefully, his long ears at attention. Last he'd heard, Shard and Crystal were the latest commanders of the Guardians--had been for a while--and what he heard as he listened half-heartedly to the squirrel's speech confirmed that. It was them he would face later; at least he wouldn't have to present his case to strangers. For the time being, however, Sandegar was content to simply listen, and have the fears of his heroic heart confirmed.

((OOC: And he's back! Sorry for all the cheese. I swear I'll get less melodramatic eventually. Probably. ;P Continuez-vous, sil-vous plaît.))

[Crystal M. V. Rosepaw]

ooc;; Posting again because I need to give my speech and get the ball rolling. Hope to have things going steady by the time I go back to school. :3

Also, Staff, if your character is going to somehow sway the plot, please message me about it so Shard and I can think it through. Domo arigato~

Drama. Because I'm getting better at it. :/

bic;;

Crystal was happy to know she had commanded the attention of all of those gathered, but less than thrilled to have had too. The lithe creature folded her arm, placing her elbow on the cross-tree of her sword. She hardly had to lean at all to stay stable, as it had been designed for a creature even larger than she. She blinked her bright green eyes at her fellow War Commander. Something about him now was different. Maybe he was finally understanding that he needed to be serious, for fools would never survive. Then again, perhaps she was just a downer and was too serious for any good to come of it.

Shard thanked her for silencing the party gathered, to which the vixen simply nodded in acknowledgment. As Shard began to speak, the fox's trained eyes caught a flicker of motion. She kept her ears on Shard, soaking in what he was saying. However, her eyes were locked on the approaching being. It was a hare, a bit older than she was, if her eyes served correctly, and he was carrying a sword of some sort. This surprised her - she always imagined Sandegar to carry a bow. As he came closer, she noted that one of his arms was stiff and looked heavy. Her leg gave a empathetic pang for his wound. She simply flashed him a quick smile, hooked fangs showing, as reassurance that he was no under any trouble for being late.

However, she had not been listening to Shard's explanation over this time, and she mentally cursed herself; giving her own bit of the speech would be difficult without knowing what had already been said. The squirrel asked if any of the gathered had questions. Somebody near the back piped up, and she wanted to claw them for their insolence - how they asked such things of Shard seemed rude. Shard, however, was braced and ready. He then turned to her again, asking her if she would add to his words.

In response, Crystal heaved herself to a straight standing position, grasping to hilt of her sword again and heaving it upward with no sign of difficulty. Inside her, terrible dark phantoms of anger and regret paced around her brain, threatening to cloud her judgment. However, she differed herself from them, refusing to fall to her thoughts. Instead, she drew strength and resolve from their ashes. The vixen flipped the blade up, placing it's flat again one bare shoulder, muscles in her arms in clear evidence. She stepped in front of Shard, making sure her limp showed. Although it was sometimes a hassle, it could also be used to show herself as a veteran. As anyone in the business would know, half of the politics was knowing how to make a good show of things.

"Guardians and those not aligned with us both, give me attention and ears," she said eerily, the worst part of her speaking was the pure unyielding truth, "for if you do not, you might not live long enough to hear it said again. The Guardians are known to be a high standard of wisdom and power. They have stood against the trials of their harsh environment for myriad years, will for many years more." Her idea of the speech was simple, she needed to prove that hope in the good deed was alive, and fail was less than 'not an option.' She needed to promote that failure would never exist at all.

"Today, we add one more title to our already vast vault; today, we become detectives of sorts. We uphold the laws here, we need to make sure it is known that such actions as these will never be tolerated, but we will do it with valor and without cruelty. Anything uncovered that might have a great impact, follow no leads until Shard or I know as well. We have no time for the work of fools, so take no risks." Crystal slid her sword back into it's sheath calmly.

"And remember, all those who gather and seek justice, Guardian or not, are honorable creatures who have gained respect. Whatever your reason to your aid, you are worthy of praise. I thank you for defending your home," she said, her words abnormally kind. The fox put both paws to her sides and bowed low, if a bit lopsided, to the group, looking at the ground, a sign of trust and good faith. She flicked her tail as she rose again, a smile playing on her lips. Crystal knew she could place her hopes on the gathered creatures."Speak now," she ushered, "if you have any helpful comments or ideas."

Her fear was gone now, the premature but inevitable triumph had infected her scenes. War Commander Rosepaw's small but elite force would uncover the truth.

[Rawlt the ranger]

Rawlt had no need for hurrying. Nobody ever cared if he was with them or not. It really didn't matter to the ranger; he was actually glad that way.

But he knew he was needed, not wanted, at this gathering. He had already heard what it was vaguely about. There were two messengers, they went missing, we needed to find them before some kingdom declares war on us. He thought, as he walked on the path leading from his cottage to the fortress.

The wildcat nonchalantly passed through the gate. He walked to the gathering led by the two leaders, Crystal and Shard. He quietly crept behind them. He walked past them and leaned against a wall. He knew he should be at attention or something, but he didn't bother with any of that. He was a ranger, not some foot soldier.

Rawlt expected to be yelled at; he just quietly stood there in the shadows.

[Seki]

Little sunlight ever filtered into the dark, cold hole in the ground, and that was just the way the resident of this hole liked it. The dark suited her in both her chosen lines of works, as a Brewster at the Tavern down in the Settlement, and as what the Guardians called a rogue. A few of her spirits and wines lived down here with her, turning themselves into an oasis of mind-fogging bliss for those who drank them. As they seasoned, so did the tools of her other, shadier trade.

On this particular morning, a piece of loam had fallen out of its place, letting the bright light in. The pine marten sighed from her place on the cot, reluctantly leaving behind a collection of twine nooses she had been making. Inwardly she swore, but her muzzle only twitched, knowing better than to give any unwanted sign of her presence. Omens… dratted omens…The marten threw on a tunic, securing it with a belt, holding various items to her person, such as poison, daggers, paints and the like. Everything she could need. The warped door opened inwardly, and the marten crept out into the woodlands. She pawed her belt one last time, making sure everything was in order. Being over-prepared was better than not being prepared enough, as she had learned from bitter experience over the cycles of the seasons. But Seki Fathom didn’t dwell on the past. Seki didn’t dwell on anything.

She kept her mind blank as she climbed up the old elm tree, her face devoid of emotion. Her eyes flickered over the vegetation of Mossflower Woods, legs jumping from limb to limb as they followed. This route led her east, closer and closer to the Fortress. A flicker of doubt passed over her muzzle briefly as the walls came into view, unsure of this route. Why was she being sent here?

Dropping near soundlessly to the ground, Seki slipped into the fortress, hidden in the masses of a merchant party. Breaking off as quickly as she had joined, Seki found the gathered beasts around the two she heard once referred to as War Commanders. The squirrel, Shard had just begun to speak. Listening, it became obvious why she would be needed; war. Her mouth turned up in vague impression of a smile. It had been so long since she had exercised her skills. And, besides, Seki thought, war would be bad for the bar business.

The white vixen, Crystal, started going off about honor and respect, words with only vague meaning to the pine marten. Seki started listing possible jobs in her head, and prices they could be bargained for. Impending doom might loosen up the pocketbooks of these creatures. Then again, they might expect her to do it out of the goodness of her heart, like these foolish ‘goodbeasts’ did. Things could be arranged, should that be the case.

"Speak now," said the vixen, snapping Seki out of her uncommon reverie, "If you have any helpful comments or ideas." Well, Seki didn’t have any at the moment, not those that could be spoken out loud, not those that she had in mind. “Ideas, Seki, ideas….” She rasped quietly to herself, licking her dry lips as she racked her brains for an answer. “Think…”

[Shard Prime]

[OOC: I'm aware that this post is pretty horrid (even for me) and far below the minimum word count, but I haven't had any time on the computer today. Sucks. @_@ Also sorry for not acknowledging all the other posters that I should have. No timeee. And Crys, if I'm ever unable to post or anything, you have my permission to roleplay any involved characters of mine, if it's necessary for the plot to advance (let's hope that doesn't happen >_>).]

---

After hearing Crystal's speech, Shard thought, Damn. He regretted using such simple language during his own. He had only done so out of consideration for those in the party that rarely encountered such formal speech. He fought to keep his expression from escalating to more than a neutral half-smile; he was amused at how foolish he felt for a moment. Ah, well, he thought, actions speak louder than words, so I suppose I haven't made a complete fool of myself yet.

Shard saw a few familiar faces in the crowd—Sandegar was the only one he could attach a name to. The two had only been acquainted, but Shard was glad to see him anyway. A familiar face was always a welcome sight.

The squirrel was sure that the Guardians would uncover the truth of what happened, but still he was concerned about the king's reaction—What would happen when the messengers were found? They were almost certainly dead, but how would the distant king take the news? He only hoped that there would be a minimum of bloodshed.

[Mark Silverarrow]

Mark snored lightly. The mouse was high in a dead oak tree, where no one could see him. Anyway, they were looking at the War Commanders and the other beasts in the crowd.

In mid snore, the mouse woke up. Sitting in the center of the "Y" of the tree, he noted that this would be a good spot to hide. Alive trees are good too. Wear green, and strap a branch to his bow. The brownish-grey of his tunic blended in well.

Having gone out early, the ranger climbed down using two of his daggers. Looking around, the mouse saw a tall hare, a few inches taller than him (he was one of the tallest mice there).

I would rather die a hero, than live a coward.

That was the young mouse's motto. Mark lived by a collection of sayings and advise. He heard the beast that asked why the king asked Shard for help.

Giving the beast a evil glance, he admired his fellow ranger's response. He had thought about what would the group do. Probably go all directions.

Looking at the crowd, he tried to guess their class. Some had daggers, black cloaks, and packs. Rogue. Bow and several daggers. Fellow ranger. Many weapons, swords, daggers, battle-ax. Warrior. Definitely.

[karka]

((OOC: Yo, Seki. The marten at the end's you, just in case I'm being so utterly, confusingly rambly that you can't tell. And enter Karka!))

The beast crouched and ran his fingers over the tracks in the earth. His nose sniffed at the air, picking out the lingering scents. Rounded ears were pricked, catching the sounds of speech in the distance. He scratched away the tracks, leaving rents in the earth with large, ugly claws. A push of his thick, powerful legs had him on his feet and following his nose along the trail. His bare footpaws barely sank into the damp soil as he ran.

Over the sound of the wind in the leaves, the warbling birds and the rustling undergrowth, he could hear the distant clamoring banter with increasing clarity. He broke from the trail and slowed a little, approaching a large beech marked with his own scent. His dense muscles rolled beneath his skin and he launched himself onto the tree, clambering up deftly with a skill born of practice and natural ability. His claws worked at the rough bark and he moved upwards in leaps, butting headfirst through clusters of leaves as they swatted his scarred face.

He stopped and tensed into a crouch, feeling the thick bough beneath him quiver. His whiskers twitched as the wind cleared the pale treetops, reaching him in a strong gust. The pale leaves rustled obnoxiously loudly around him, and he sniffed the air. The intruders on his territory had gone in the direction of the old fortress, and there were more there. Curiosity twisted his black lips into a hostile smile and bared his fangs to the air.

Abruptly and without a second thought he pounced from the branch, spreading all four stocky limbs out in the air. He attempted unsuccessfully to grapple a convenient branch as he fell, his claws rending the skin of the wood, but he only continued to fall. His head thrown back, he laughed a deep, grating laugh of mindless recklessness as the air rushed past him. As his fur rippled, he curled into a ball, and tumbled down. With a thump he landed on soil, loam and hard roots, sending harsh pain lancing through his body. He rolled with the blow, coming to a crouching stop half-in a bush.

He froze for a few moments, letting the pain lessen and listening intently. The assembly was close enough for him to pick out the individual voices now. Only one was talking loudly enough to be important, a female from the sounds of her voice, probably a small canine. Still listening, he stood up unsteadily, ignoring the dull pains along his spine and the ache in his head. He brushed away the mud on the surface of his dark, oily pelt, sniffing the air. From what he could tell of the scents drifting on the wind, there was a multitude of different species assembled, apparently all listening to that female voice.

The wolverine grinned and removed his long coat, flinging it over his shoulder. Dark, damp splotches stained the light fabric. It rested heavily on his broad back, the mud staining a trail on his uncolored linen shirt. Uncaring, he quickly set off loping easily on stocky legs, storming through the undergrowth with little care and less grace. Dew caught on the wool of his ragged shorts as he raced along, only to be brushed off by his wild tail. He slowed to a halt in the shadow of the trees, dropping to a crouch and squinting his dull eyes against the light.

The speaker was still giving her speech, which he paid little attention to. Words lied, but his sense never failed him. He couldn't catch her smell, too obscured and masked by the crowd's as it was, but he could hear her voice, clear as day. At this range, the tone and timbre told him enough. It was a vixen, and yet she was addressing a crowd of beasts as diverse as could be found anywhere in these lands. He smelt traces of all manners of creatures, each with their own pungent stench.

A waft of wind brought him a fresh scent that caught his attention. He shuffled through the undergrowth, conspicuously loud, but the crowd wouldn't notice. And if they saw him? Their problem. He tracked the scent on the wind, crawling through the bushes with his head low. He heard words but didn't listen, focusing instead on the scent. Stumbling over a tree root, he slowly stood, pulling himself up to his full, formidable height. Back home he'd been the weakling runt, and here, among the little southern weaklings, he was a tower of hulking, belligerent muscle.

He stepped out of the shadow with a heavy step. He grinned, the scars on his patch-furred face writhing with the motion. The wolverine raised his heavy claws and gave them a wiggle, testing that the pain in his paw was nothing bad. He tramped along, noting the texture of the ground beneath his toes, and approached the source of the scent. If he'd picked up the right smells, and found the right girl, she probably wouldn't be too frightened of him--not if she was carrying what he thought she was carrying. However, he still slipped into the shadow of the wall, where there was still dew on the grass to wet his feet, and sidled toward her only until she was within earshot.

Quietly, he spoke up with his grating voice.

"Yore a marten, darlin'?" The wolverine stated more than asked, his voice a rough, rumbling growl. He sniffed and licked his lips, glancing at her through the haze.

"Ya got poison on ya, eh? Thought there were only weak suckers in this place. Care to tell me what's goin' on ta bring a poisoner, a marten no less, 'round here?"

[Seki]

((ooc: Heh. I like Karka. Moving on. Oh gawd, this be-ith horible-ith. XD))

"Yore a marten, darlin'?" Seki stiffened slightly. This voice was slightly familier.... her paw strayed down her breeches, toward one of her hidden knifes. The voice, as she still didn't know whom it was, spoke again. "Ya got poison on ya, eh? Thought there were only weak suckers in this place. Care to tell me what's goin' on ta bring a poisoner, a marten no less, 'round here?"

Slowly, she turned around, eventually facing the.... beast behind her. He was unlike anybeast she had met and known; a big as a badger, slightly like a fox, she suppposed, but that was all her mind could supply. It seemed best to comply. This monstrousity could snap her in two with ease. "War," she hissed, her tongue snaking in and out of her mouth. Seki dropped into vermin slang for no particular reason. "The squirrel is in trouble with King so-an'-so, an' 'e's asking for 'elp t' stop So-an'-so from comin' 'ere and burning down t' woodlands, or sometin'." She stopped a moment, then continued. "May'ap me skills will be needed, may'ap not."

Suddenly, a thought struck her. "Of course, maybe others will need a bit of my cocktails before bed." She turned away. If he needed her, he would find a way to say. If he didn't, she would be better off on the other side of the crowd......

[karka]

The wolverine let the marten explain, listening for once. At the mention of a squirrel--the squirrel, no less--he stirred slightly. His nose was useless with a crowd of this size, and someone that wasn't talking couldn't be heard over the chatter. It annoyed him that he'd missed the presence of one who apparently merited a "the". He sniffed the air again, but to no avail.

While he was distracted, the marten fell silent and regained his attention. He considered what she'd said absent-mindedly, and then it sank in. Spontaneously he roared with laughter, loud enough for anyone with a half-decent pair of ears to hear.

Eventually the unpleasant, grating rumble spluttered out into a coughing chuckle, the wolverine pounding himself on the chest.

"But hoo, boy." He said, still half-laughing. "Ain't that a hoot!"

A wide, threatening grin on his face, he swaggered into the crowd, trusting the little beasties to get out of his way. Those that didn't were promptly booted out of his path as he blundered into them. Once deep enough into the crowd for his liking, he came to a stop and stood still. Lashing an unfortunate beast with his coat, he crossed his arms defiantly and sneered in the direction of the apparent leaders of the crowd: a vixen, according to his own senses, and according to the marten, also a squirrel, indetectable to him.

"An' ah use'ta think ya runts protected this place. Hah, ain't that funny, seems ta me ya brought some right trouble here, eh?"

He paused and barked out a mocking laugh. The bitter noise abruptly transitioned to a sharp, growling snarl.

"What ya goin' ta do, eh? Ah heard talk o' messengers. They're dead. Killed dead, ah reckon. And saps like ya make plenty killers mad, eh? Sea junk like yer pirates, they want ya dead. War's gon' kill ya. Easy game. Ya can't catch 'em. So just kit up ta brawl already, eh?"

((OOC: To loquacious arms, noble Guardians! Defend thy honor from the sting of the uninformed stranger's less-than-impressive words!))

[Jackaroe]

Talking was overrated. Action spoke louder than words. But sometimes talking could save lives, hard as it was for Jack. And so talk he would.

Jack wasn't the type to pipe up, (usually for fear of being viewed as a loose-mouthed greenhorn) but a direct request wasn't to be ignored, especially from Crystal, of whom Jack's opinion conflicted with her request. So obviously Crystal had gone against her pride to ask for help... and so she deserved an answer. Jack squared his shoulders, glanced around him at the crowd, cleared his throat...

"Some say that politics are more dangerous than battlefields. Whatever your opinion, I think they're the way to go." Blasted philisophical nonsense. "I propose that we follow this route firstly. We can send a ambassador with some... escorts in order to rationalize the situation and get more information." He paused, then bowed slightly. "Thank you for your ears." He glanced around himself once again, daring anybeast to scoff at him, then receded into the crowd.

Having spoken his mind, he sat and listened to the others with courage to brave the beast and vocalize.

OOC: They're getting longer... I just need more practice.

[Crystal M. V. Rosepaw]

ooc;; Sorry if this is crap. I only have an hour to post before bed, and a lot to talk about. I use the excuse that my character's insane. :/ And sorry, but I'm reorganizing the order of posts. ;3; I'm acting like Jack spoke before Karka.

Also, please, PLEASE make sure your posts are over 200 words. I do not want to take actions - it's a waste of my time.

bic;;

As Crystal's speak was drawing to a close, the young vixen noticed the approaching forms of a few more creatures. These, of course, hadn't cared to be on time to the meeting, and, as such, she would icily ignore them unless they did something of interest. Crystal flicked a careful ear to the source of the sound of steps behind her back, in taking a sharp breath without much thought to it. She now could smell the musk of wildcat added to the already diverse mixture. She tried not to grit her teeth and snap at him, and managed to ignore him completely.

Before the crowd, she could see a marten peering over the heads of the gathered locals and Guardians. Crystal raised an inquizitive eyebrow at the unnamed newcomer, but said nothing. Seki looked of trouble, even from as far away as Crystal stood. The vixen was quite sure she might have to force her into shape. The marten licked her lips, trying to think of something clever to say, the fox supposed. Her mind did not work as such criminal minds did. Nay, her mind worked like no other. Others would often complain to be scatterbrained, but the vixen's mind truly had no organization. Memories were found by sights and smells, not by thoughts. She was clever and sly to a complete stereotypical T, but not for that reason. Her wit was quick and her reflexes sharp due to reverting to survival instinct. Although she played the role of the calm politican, she was really, simply, a ticking time bomb.

Next forward came a tall mouse carrying a bow. He didn't intrest her - really, the only thing that drew her eyes was the feral inscint to watch for movement. She blinked quietly, casting a quick glance over him. The most remarkable thing about him was the lack of anything remarkable. Mark took his place in the crowd, and the vixen watched them all with plotting jade eyes.

A large beast, which Crystal knew from her travels to be called a wolverine, came up, appearing to be unable to see. The creature sniffed every few seconds, turning his head this way and that. He was huge, and well armed enough to be a threat to anyone peaceful. The way her walked, the arrogant, cocky swagger in his steps made her whipcord tight body tense suddenly, hackles rising as best as her crippeled leg would allow. Her conversed slowly with the martan, who seemed annoyed more than intimidated, in quiet voices. The vixen lashed her tail around her ankles once, trying to release the tension building. She knew trouble was brewing, but could do nothing to stop it unless he said something to her.

Jack's face sudden;ly lit up with some kind of unreabidle expression, and then he called up to her in a small voice. The vixen loosed her stance slightly, tilting her head a bit and perking her ears forward. Ah, so Jack didn't like politics, eh? Nobody seemed to understand that theyy couldn't just run into the fight with blades steady; it would be a massacre to do so. Shard and Crystal were going to have to double as fighting crime-solvers and well-raised diplomats with a good grace for words.

The wolverine and the marten suddenly stopped talking, and the larger creature bulled himself through the crowd, knocking all the smaller creatures aside. Before his arrival, she had towered over most of the gathered, but now she felt very small. He smashed others out of his path like nine-pins, and stood only a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. Crystal's instincts had thrown her into motion as soon as he had moved; the vixen stood a bit in front of Shard now, who wouldn't be able to protect himself in such close range if the wolverine were to attack him. Her knees bent slighlty under the dres, sandals straining painfully into her shins. One paw was held defecivly in front of her stomach, the other was held over her chest, as if pondering reachong for her sword.

The great beast cackled madly, calling out some silly challenge to Shard and her own authority. Unable to suppress it, anger flared in the fox's eyes, but she had learned the hard way through pain that she could not let rage control her. Calmly, but with grace born from her hate, she moved a pace away from Shard, slightly closer to the larger creature in her path. She could see his fangs and claws, but felt no fear in the face of what looked like death put to life. The vixen blew out a breath to steady herself, letting her face slack and go void of all expressions.

"Wolverine," she said calmly, not knowing how to adress him apart from his species, "trouble was not brought by us. The ruler of a far off land demanded help with something we didn't have the forces to comply with, and we tried to reason with the King. On the messenger's return home to tell their king what little help we could loan them, as most of our forces could not be spared, they disappeared. We brought no trouble to this land, we bring peace and always will." The statement was simple, given in a monotone worthy of having been practiced, regardless that it had not been.

"What brings trouble to these lands are the criminals we have invested our lives to stopping," she went on dully. "And while it is true we may not find the king's soldiers alive, we are capable enough to solve a murder and bring the charged to justice." The vixen nodded slightly to herself, her voice holding now some kind of grating edge, emotions that demanded to be seen and heard, regardless that she could not allow it.

She blinked slowly, calmly, and suddenly teased herself again, one little paw balled into a fist, then said, "Now stand down, please, sir. If you do not want to aid us in riding the plague of war from these lands, so be it." Crystal's face suddenly contorted into a fierce, angered smile, fangs showing. "Sir, stand down, I asked again. I would not want to make you."

[aeroflyte]

ooc: apologies for not posting. There's not much I can say.

bic:

Teylan shifted from one foot to the other, nervous to be off, and wary of the growing tension within the group. Several new arrivals had come, each in their own fashion. A huge, hulking beast and a smaller, shady rogue carried on a whispered conversation. The beast then turned and challenged the War Commanders, mocking them, when a stout squirrel made a short, embarrassed speech. A small wave of unkind laughter followed at the end.

Teylan hoped that marching would take the group's mind off of conflict. Otherwise, he thought, The messengers might not be the only ones to die. Shaking his head, he unsheathed a small knife and began methodically cutting a line of rings into his staff, as he usually did when he wanted to relax., toning out the harsh words being exchanged. It was odd, but Teylan disliked conflict, other than that in all- out war. There was no need to squabble like this....
Teylan sighed, and shoved the knife back into its sheath. He shifted his grip on the staff, and sighed again. He wished something would happen, other than this verbal time-wasting.

ooc:and yes, he magically has a stress-relief staff. Sorry about the quality of the post, but again, I really don't have anything to say.

[Shard Prime]

[OOC: Sorry, Crys. >_>]

---

Shard noticed a new figure in the crowd—a towering beast of a wolverine—pushing and shoving toward the front. He braced himself for trouble, neutralizing his expression and subtley shifting a foot ever-so-slightly behind the other, just in case he needed to defend himself or others. He had never seen a woverine first-hand, but had heard a fair bit about them; that was the only reason he recognized the creature for what he was.

Shard kept his eye on the monstrous wolverine, almost completely disregarding Jack's speech. He could see that the wolverine was a great threat if his intentions were evil; the creature was wrapped in dense muscle—much like Shard himself—only to a much, much greater degree. Shard could clearly see that the muscles were well-trained for raw strength.

Shard sensed Crystal was shifting to deal with this as the wolverine butted through to the front of the crowd to stand before them. The squirrel stayed still, anticipating her reaction. He feverently hoped it would not be violent—he nearly sighed with relief as he heard her calmed voice speak:

"Wolverine... Trouble was not brought by us. The ruler of a far off land demanded help with something we didn't have the forces to comply with, and we tried to reason with the King. On the messenger's return home to tell their king what little help we could loan them, as most of our forces could not be spared, they disappeared. We brought no trouble to this land, we bring peace and always will..."

Shard nodded as the other War Commander finished her speech; it was the simple truth, and none could have told it better. But something in her voice nearing the end nearly made the fur on his neck stand on end; her harsh tone signified to him that she was fighting against her emotions... Or not, he thought, as she started again, seemingly-calmly.

"Sir, stand down, I asked again. I would not want to make you."

...Or so, he countered himself. He didn't like the idea of a fight between his friend the other War Commander and a monstrous wolverine. He honestly wasn't sure who would emerge victorious in such a match; he had seen many fine warriors brought down by an opponent's sheer power, and it was never a pretty sight.

Shard stepped forward and placed a strong, hopefully-reassurring paw on Crystal's shoulder. He made sure that his curved sword was visible, but not emphasized, and looked the rude creature in the eye—practically straight up—and spoke loudly and firmly, "If you have come for no other purpose than to sow chaos, my friend, then I must politely ask you to leave. If your intentions are any less than to be helpful to our cause, then you are wasting your time here. If that is not the case, however, you are very welcome to help. We really must be off soon."

Shard hid it well, but in all honestly, had never felt smaller or more insignificant than at that moment.

[karka]

The vixen did not disappoint him. The wolverine's snarl changed to a wicked, amused grin as she went on in her flat, annoying tone, spewing out condescending words. Her dull voice bored him, but he remained quiet, letting the little thing have her fun. She was young, after all, the little thing, and had to be allowed a little slack to make her mistakes. So he half-listened to her pretentious little speech, noting carefully the shifts of tone. He couldn't see her face, but both her voice, and if only he could smell it, her scent couldn't lie, not to him.

He could tell at least when the edge emerged in her voice, waxing and waning in her tone as she droned on. She was considerate enough to explain the situation, but she sounded only naive in her colored words. His grin widened and his claws clicked together as her voice suddenly picked up anger, long repressed. He chuckled again, his yellowed teeth glinting dully, tempted to let rip a laugh at the warning she spoke. It was funny, after all. She was a fox. A little vixen, no less, and she was threatening him, a wolverine!

Suddenly, he caught a faint scent and heard a new voice, one he tied immediately to a squirrel. Their chatter was easily recognized. Noting that it had to be the squirrel that the marten had mentioned, he let his eyelids droop, listening with boredom. Regardless of what this second, young sap said, his mind was made up. And there would be nothing the little critters could do to dissuade him. Weaklings like them couldn't possibly get by on their own, even if they refused to admit it, and they didn't stand a chance with a little support. Besides, the wolverine liked his new home.

He turned his head and spat at the ground, taking the oppurtunity to shut his eyes tightly, trying to clear them. He let his claws click together again, letting the momentary silence drag, absorbing the hushed worries of the crowd. He enjoyed it. With a chuckle he faced the commanders agan, seeing them only slightly more clearly. He stepped forward, knocking an insolent little defender out of his way with a massive paw. He crossed his arms and stopped, leaning back into a posture of undeniable power. The sun, still low in the sky, beat on his back, quite likely casting his ominous shadow across quite a number of the cowered beasts.

He snorted a mocking laugh, half a growl rumbling deep in his chest. "Oh, ah'll help," he said, with a smirk, "Ah will help. You saps'll need some help, ah reckon. Some backbone, an' ya ain't got that. So, ain't ya lucky ya got me, eh?"

He laughed again, mocking them and daring them to defy him. But he didn't leave them time, for they wouldn't dare.

"But we'd best be on our way, wouldn't ya say? So what's yer fantastic plan, ya runts? Better be good enough or ah ain't gon' help."

[Crystal M. V. Rosepaw]

ooc; Sorry for not posting. I've been sick and such. D: Sandy, I want to say I love Karka's character. This is going to be fun - he's so antagonizing, while Crystal is so easily tormented.



Crystal's low growl became choking silence as Shard placed a paw on her shoulder. The vixen turned her head to face him, having forgotten her surroundings as her blood curled in the lust for blood and victory. He had hoped to calm her, to shun her anger and banish it like a small child who had done wrong. Who was he to tell her what to do and what should not be done? The insanity within her rose to a degree that almost brought physical pain upon her, and she turned to face away from Shard and the wolverine while she tried to reign in anger.

She could not allow this... this petty emotion. A 'goodbeast' could not be seen like this, and she refused to be categorized as most of her kind had been, as vermin. What could she do, though, to pull herself together? She had been tainted, and was addicted to those moments of indulgence. She simply wanted to snap, to lunge at the giant creature, show all those that wanted these chaotic events to go on that she would not stand for it. Truly, honestly, her pride had been stung by the wolverine, and she could not stand for it.

As she finally choked down these emotions, Shard had finished speaking. The wolverine himself stood up straighter, and Crystal tilted her head to him, now loose and completely calm. This was just more more obstacle to overcome.

"Oh, ah'll help," the wolverine said, "Ah will help. You saps'll need some help, ah reckon. Some backbone, an' ya ain't got that. So, ain't ya lucky ya got me, eh?" She snorted quietly; what an annoyance this creature was. He was all talk, or so it seemed. "But we'd best be on our way, wouldn't ya say? So what's yer fantastic plan, ya runts? Better be good enough or ah ain't gon' help."

Crystal stepped forward, waving a dismissive paw at the towering beast, saying, "Wolverine, I will show you we have 'backbone,' should you press the matter, but now is not the time. The plan is a simple one so far. Right now, we go to the Western Settlement and talk to the beasts there. Should any of them want coin for information, tell them to give it willing or be arrested. There are many eyes and ears, and I'm sure we all have different allies there to speak to."