Seaside ((Open))

[Glavon]

It was a beautiful winter day. Or at least, it would have been-winter did not submit to making the sea look any nicer. If anything, the waters looked even more deadly, the eerie, howling wind pushing the once calm liquid into huge waves with foamy caps which smacked forcefully against the ice-frozen sand of the beach. In front was an angry ocean and in back, a forbidding, leafless forest. Neither was desirable in the slightest. Every fringe of dune grass was limp, brown or yellow, and dead from the harsh cold of the winter. Although spring may have been coming, the winter was obviously the King of the seasons, owing allegance to none, except the summer, which was indeed far away.

This arrangement did not please the seaside's visitor in the slightest. Takeru Stormston stood at the area where forest met beach, scowling at the waves and shivering at the same time. Her light coat of pale gray fur was not enough to keep out the winter wind; as a result, she was starting to freeze. Her bright, alert ice blue eyes were now a dull, dark stormy blue as the cold made her more tired then usual. Behind the gray ferret was her little 'gang', a group of vermin who followed her because of the fact she was rather famous around Mossflower. Right now, she had four weasels, two rats, two stoats, and a ferret like herself. The reason for no foxes was that she absolutely hated them-they had killed her mother when she was younger and she was still hunting the three who had done it.

Tak flicked her brush-like tail and whirled around to glare at the vermin gathered behind her. One of the rats and all the weasels, along with the two stoats were gone. A rat and the ferret were left, assembling some dry driftwood to make a small fire.

The ferret pushed the driftwood away and began to dig a small hole in the sand. The rat scratched behind his ear with a grimy claw. "What're yew doin', Ren?" the rat asked curiously, watching his companion continue to dig the hole.

Ren the ferret chuckled. "Wind's goin' ta put out de fire, see? If'n we dig a 'ole, den de wind won't be able ta get ta de fire dat easily, matey."

"Dat's a good idea," the rat replied, watching the ferret dig the hole. Suddenly, a black weasel popped out from the trees behind the three, paws laden with wood.

"Heh, winter's allas der best time fer wood. 'Specially 'cause most o' der liddle trees die anyway."

Takeru turned. "Where's the others?"

The weasel turned to her. "De other weasels 'r lookin' thru der forest. Der stoats and de other rat 're farder down de beach, tryin' ta find driftwood."

Takeru nodded and sat down on a log. "All right. You go help these two idiots dig their hole, or whatever." she said irratably. Knowing arguing would be stupid, not to mention dangerous, the weasel knelt down by the rat and ferret.

It was only a few minutes later that the others returned with loads of wood. Soon, the vermin had the frame of the fire set up. The ferret took charge.

"All right, mateys. Yew all sit around dere so de wind doesn't put der fire out."

The vermin complied, and the ferret took a small knife out of his belt and struck a shard of flint with it. Within seconds, the fire had started on the tinder, and when the flames reached the driftwood, they turned blue and green.

Tak looked at the fire curiously.

"Salt makes da flames weird colors." Ren said, poking the wood with a damp stick.

[spartiss]

With the chill wind howling around him, Sparhawk Farsight sat in one of the frozen and leafless trees along the beach. He didn't like this place as much as the small group of vermin he was watching obviously didn't. But it had been his decision after all.
His thoughts turned to his home in Mossflower, as they always did when he thought about his wanderings. He didn't regret it even if it led here. To the windswept beach in the South.
He jerked himself out of his revere when he saw the small band brake up and go into the woods. Now alert, he made his way farther into the bare woods. The vermin weren't hard to follow, they didn't expect an enemy in these barren wastelands. From the sound of their talk he gathered that they were on a quest of their own,
"Takrtu doesn't seem very alert today do she mate?" One stoat asked another stoat. "No mate, she doesn't, I wonder wut's got into her? Or should I say out of her?" the other snickered.

"I think it's the weather meself." "Really, 'ow could 'at be!?"

Spar had heard enough, with a small whisper of branches, that was covered by the sound of the moaning wind, he left, to keep up his silent and cold virgule.

OOC: I hope that is satisfactory.

[tacticalotter2]

Rogg sat up against a tree, drawing his warm cloak around him. The mercenary otter liked the cold to an extent, but without a fire to warm him webbed paws by, well, the cold was not that great. He had been wandering with no exact goal in mind. Rogg had come from Mossflower and had not seen very much action since the otter had encountered a holt of otters. He had stayed with them for some time, nearly a season in fact, but knew that he must keep going. So he moved on, and now he was here, wherever here was. The young otter had no idea where he was, he was not the best navigator, so he would be happy to see any other creature.


He was contemplating the holt he had visited when he saw a black weasel [see exhibit a]. It was apparently gathering wood. Rogg decided to follow the weasel and see if it was in some sort of a band, he could obtain and food and shelter for the night. If they were hostile well, that was their problem. The young otter took out his stiletto, if the weasel saw him then Rogg could just take him out quietly; no need for loud screams to let all the countryside know the otter was here.


He rose silently and followed the unknowing weasel through the forest. Rogg shadowed the weasel for some time and then stopped suddenly and dropped to a crouching position. There was the sea!! Almost every otter's dream, the rolling waves, the plentiful fish, it was an otter paradise. Rogg wanted to run forward and jump in, but he resisted the urge when he saw the small vermin band on the beach. Why was it never easy? He thought that the best approach was to walk right into the middle of camp. Drawing his sword, the young otter put his cloak's hood up. He stood, and advanced into the little party, his dark blue cloak and black armor giving him a commanding look. He spoke in a calm low voice as he walked. Death in his hazel eyes.
"Hello mateys".....

[Glavon]

((Nice, Spartiss. Though I must say-what you did with my vermin characters is called powerplaying and is not allowed. You may make the gang talk if you want-just don't autokill any of them or powerplay Tak.))

The vermin hadn't seen the squirrel watching them from the trees as they had walked back with their wood-therefore, none had the notion that a new enemy was watching from the trees-especially Takeru, who was freezing her fur off and not paying any attention to anything but the fire.

"I should throw one of you in, to make it warmer," she said for the thirty-something time, scowling at the blue-green of the flickering flames.

Crunch.

Takeru's ears pricked and she whirled around, coming face to face with a cloaked river otter. A few moments of silence passed, the only sound the crashing of waves upon the ice-encrusted shore, before the otter spoke.

Hello mateys...

Takeru smirked, her blue eyes lighting up. "Hello, my idiotic friend. Did you really think it smart to walk up to us like a dibbun?" she asked, while her little 'army' started to elbow each other, snickering at the unfortunate otter.

(Sorry, that was a crap post, because I have to go.)

[tacticalotter2]

"Hello, my idiotic friend. Did you really think it smart to walk up to us like a dibbun?"


Of course it was a good idea. The mercenary could deal with all of these fools. There were quite a lot of the vermin though, maybe it was not such a good idea to walk right into the midst of the band. Great, but it was to late for that now, Rogg might have made the wrong approach, but he could still try to make it to the sea if the battle got to intense. The big otter eyed the waves lapping the white beach, it looked to be a long charge through an angry pack of scummy vermin. Why is it never easy?

Rogg planted his right paw behind him in a strong fighting stance, gloved sword paw tight on the cold steel hilt. This was a situation in which he was going to use Form VII, also known as Vaapad, the most strong and aggressive of sword combat forms. This was the ideal form for the reverse grip style Rogg used, the sweeping, powerful blows, the destructive slashes, it was perfect. The otter would be hard put to it defending himself against the hoard of vermin, but there was always the advantage to being an otter; he could easily swim away if the fight got that bad. He hoped it would not.

His left paw clenched and slowly came up just below his whiskery face. He stood for a moment giving the ferret the choice to either speak, or to attack. The mercenary otter did not say a word but his eyes were screaming hatred for the vermin. He could almost hear his sword instructor from the past, giving him pointers on his stance and grip on his blade. The big otter cleared his mind and freed his vision of mental distractions. He was ready for an intense battle....

[Vikenti Whitedeath]

Merce Whitedeath stood on the shore, looking out over the gloomy grey sea. The biting cold was all around him, but the white weasel didn't care. In fact, he liked the cold. He felt as if he was part of it. He was its weapon, its warrior. Merce looked lovingly at the black coat witch he wore. It meant that he, Merce, was the most powerful mercenary in Mossflower. At least, until some-beast killed him.

Merce turned his attention to the beasts down the beach from him. A group of vermin had been setting up a camp for some time. But now, they were distracted by a tall armored otter who had come out of the trees. As the to "parties" exchanged words Merce walked right up among the vermin. He sat down next to the blue-green fire, staring into it. "Nice of you to share your fire," he said to Takeru without even asking, "I will let you live for it." Yes, Merce was annoying. He always was dancing with fate. Someday, it would catch up with him.

[burhurzur]

Skrath stamped in a bad mood toward the sea shore. He was told that these shores would help him feel better. He felt hot... Not that normal flu like hot but a sweaty sickly hot...
"Ah... This looks right!" he said cooling down a bit and siting down on a spot on the beach. "Ok men! Set up camp now!"
He looked around and saw some figures down the beach. He had not known that some stupid beasts would come to spoil his rest... for now he would wait.

(Sorry, I didn't really read through this post before I entered!)

[spartiss]

Spar was now fully alert! With two new creatures in camp, this proved to be very interesting! Unfortunately Spartiss was to far away to hear what was being said, keeping this in mind he slowly made his way down the slopping bank that ran the length of the beach. The tree line ended at the beach and he would be visible if he went out onto the sand. He decided to move up till he was opposite the encampment. The trees were bare at this time of the year so there wasn’t much cover to hide in. But Spar wasn’t a squirrel for nothing! With the thick leaf cover on the ground he could make a small shelter that he could see and hear from. It had to look natural of course so he had to pick up leaves and lay them over a small bush. Considering there were vermin not twenty feet away, this was not easy! As he was settling down in his blind, he heard the newest creature’s last remark,

“I will let you live for it.”

“Let her live for what?” Spar wondered to himself.