Glory Days

[Spook]

Snow was everywhere in the lands north of Mossflower. Winter was as strongly prevalent in these lands as in the south, and its quiet spell created a bleak yet beautiful scene to any creature out and about. One such creature, a giant wolverine named Taross the Warlord, was traveling with the winds towards the south. The cold was welcomed by the imposing beast, as he was born in regions much colder and more harsh than these. He took a moment from pulling his cart, stopped, stood tall, closed his eyes, and breathed deep and slow. The scents of winter gave his mind pictures of beautiful forests blanketed by pure, white snow. For a long moment he stood there, just taking in the day and its companion - the weather. The skies were of a gray color hiding the morning sun behind sheet-like clouds, the mountains Taross had already put behind him were of a hazy blue, and the ground was pure white. He finally opened his eyes and then took in the scene before him. The fields and flatland around him eventually faded into heavy woodland far down south.

Those woodlands were Taross' destination, for within them was his hope: a cure for the disease that claimed his father and would also claim him. His final destination would be the famed Redwall Abbey, which would hopefully house a healer capable of curing him. If not... well, Taross put that possibility out of his mind. For the time being, he decided that if he couldn't be helped, then he would just accept it and keep trekking through life. He was confident enough that he had seen enough great seasons and that his life was a full one. But Taross knew that he would not be taken easily, even by illness. In his mind, the cold beauty of winter was shrouded by these thoughts. Taross realized this and shook them out of his head. He had lived long enough to know that worrying helped nobeast. Instead of worrying, he would now continue his journey into the south.

Taross had already eaten breakfast, and some time had passed since he stopped to enjoy the weather. He stopped pulling the cart once more and began going through his things within it. He found what he was looking for right away - his polehammer. He raised it high over his head, gazing at the weapon against the background of gray clouds. The long pole, ending in a spearpoint with a warhammer right beneath it, once belonged to Taross' long-dead father. The weapon wasn't decorated at all. It was just cold steel with the appropriate additions to make it easier to wield. Taross took pride in it. He had vanquished many foes and defended the goodbeasts of the north with it.

Taross then began practicing with it, twirling it this way and that. He gave out powerful swings here and there that would knock any enemy flat. The snow cracked and crunched under his heavy paws as he darted around, fighting imaginary foes. Then he stopped to take a rest. Grabbing a flask of mint tea from the cart, Taross sat upon it and sipped from the flask. He noticed that he became tired much quicker nowadays than in his youth.

[dyrisk]

Fate for Fate and Truth for Truth,
Eye for Eye and Tooth for Tooth,
Scorn for Scorn and Trial for Trial,
Bite for Bite and Guile for Guile,
War for War and Woe for Woe,
Blood for Blood and Blow for Blow.

Precariously perched in the V-shaped fork of a spreading, leafless maple tree, two gray orbs watched the wolverine's every mere movement, charting their foe's pattern of movement down in their owner's head. The canid's footclaws had dug deeply into the rough gray treebark in a safety measure meant to prevent him from toppling headfirst out of the tree. His paws - and the claws they were equipped with - were also in a fixed position; one rested on the tree for balance while the other curled tight around a sizeable yew bow, made specially for accuracy and power. It was up to the fox wielding it to practice for speed.

Wolverines. They were a rarity not seen every day, Anubis Dyrisk Flintclaw reflected as he watched the massive beast practicing with a large, dangerous looking warhammer. The beast wielding the deadly crushing weight of the weapon was hardily built, covered in shaggy fur the color of light chestnut. The canid could easily see that the badger-like beast wasn't fat, but the fur made him look so - in fact, the fox was willing to wager that there was a frame of muscle under the skin and fur.

It was tall too - even though he was about ten or fifteen feet above the snowy earth, he could see that a badger wouldn't even measure up to the monster. Trained for battle as he was, the canid couldn't completely suppress the shiver running through his bones. He'd no chance of defeating this tyrant...but he had to believe he could. That was what made a good mercenary and assassin. And anyways, the giant, though strong, was bound to be slow, in light of his size. Anubis was a wiry, fast canid, and he'd be able to dodge the brunt of the attacks - hopefully.

His mind went back to the unusual circumstances that had caused this. About five years after his parents and siblings had been slain - by none other than himself, of course - he felt he owed the Northlands another visit, for none other reason then to destroy the place of his birth. As he wandered that way, he came across a little gang of vermin who were looking rather bedraggled, to say the least. Upon being questioned, a rat revealed that they'd had a wolverine traveling with them - one who'd left in the night - and asked that he deal with the threat. The canid had agreed, but on the condition that he do it after he'd finished the visit which, in total, took about two years, as he hunted some of the vermin gangs across the frozen tundra after his main work had been done.

Of course, he realized he wasn't strong enough to face a wolverine in single combat without training first. Another three or so years wasted. And here he was, looking down upon his enemy for the first time and wondering if he was actually going to come out of this alive.

He could escape, if he wanted - that was the knowledge he contented himself with. Bringing the yew bow up, the canid sighted on the monsterous foe, nocking a long streamlined arrow to the weapon and pulling back the string. The intelligent gray eyes blinked once and the canine bared his teeth before sending the arrow on a path to the wolverine's head. He'd then string another one and send it at his enemy's heart in quick succession, listing to the soothing hum of the projectiles as they sped to their targets, watching their bloodied bone tips flash in the sunlight as they flew down to meet their prey, the red feathers rustling in the wind that was created by the speed in which they sped down to their target.

[Spook]

((I'm sorry for taking so long to post, man. I've just plain been lazy. And just to clear something up, it is very cloudy and is lightly snowing. No sun to be seen. Anyway, I'll try my best to get Taross out of this complicated situation...))

Right when Taross had sat down upon the cart, he noticed something. He heard the all-to-familiar sound of an arrow whizzing past. Judging by the intensity of the noise, it had passed not too far above his head. Then he heard another. This was followed by a sharp pain in Taross' ear, made even worse by the cold. Though blood sprayed from the wound in the top of his ear, Taross didn't flinch. Instead of throwing himself flat, Taross dodged quickly behind his cart, putting it in between himself and the direction of hostility.

Noticeably panting, Taross cursed under his breath. "Who in death's name...?!" he thought. Whoever it was that had fired those arrows at him would soon explain very well what their intentions were, and why they had nearly killed him. Taross yanked the bag that contained his armor out of the cart carefully, making sure not to present a target for his new enemy. He began fitting the cold steel to his powerful body, wasting no time at all. He finally slid his helmet over his scarred head and stood.

Fully-armored and armed, Taross stood to his full height, more than likely taller than anybeast would hope to see. He beat his warhammer on his chest-plate and roared out in a deafening voice, "Who challenges me?! Who is foolish enough to anger Taross the Warlord?!" Taross quickly assessed that there were very few places of which to assault him in these plains while still remaining hidden. He singled out the most likely spot: a maple tree that stood tall and afforded a good vantage point. Still, Taross could see nobeast, and he wasn't quite sure if he was ready to face a hidden foe.

There was only one thing to do. Taross began marching at the tree, becoming closer with every heavy step. If somebeast was truly attempting to slay Taross, then they had certainly gotten more than they bargained for.

[dyrisk]

(As have I. Not to worry. I'm sorry about the sun thing - do I need to change it? It's really not that drastic of a thing; pretend it never happened. It's not like a chain of events was set off by the sun flashing on the arrows. xD)

A smart move, the dodge behind the cart. The canine grunted, putting his bow away as he watched the wolverine panting, and cursed as the giant musteline pulled out a suit of armor from the cart. Why did big beasts always need something for protection? Shifting on the branch, Anubis felt something crack under a footpaw before feeling himself begin to fall. He grabbed frantically for a thick branch above him and sighed with relief as he grabbed it with both paws.

Now, of course, the lower part of his body was exposed to his foe. "Damn it." he muttered angrily, attempting to pull himself back up into the tree.

Who challenges me?! Who is foolish enough to anger Taross the Warlord?!

What the heck. He could already be seen. "Me, I guess." he said resignedly as he continued to attempt to pull himself up but to no avail. Another curse escaped his tightly clenched jaws. Giving up, he let himself drop to the ground, facing more than 300 pounds - probably - of blood-crazed wolverine.

Not an enviable position.

The canid landed heavily on his feet and scampered frantically away from the towering figure of his foe. He needed another tall vantage point to even have a chance at the wanted kill; if he was found on the ground he would be, simply, a standing duck.

His gray orbs alighted on a large pine tree, missing many of its needles. What the fox failed to notice was that, since it was missing such needles, it meant the tree was dead - and Taross would probably be able to knock it down with a single blow, which would almost definately bring a halt to Anubis' life.

Scaling the branches and settling on one too thick to break under his measly weight, the fox clumsily fumbled for his bow.