One thing leads to another-((Salt Water))

[Skipper of Sea Otters]

The waves pounded against the cliff side below. It was like thunder below almost becoming a constant deafening sound. The Sea mist floated upward towards the travelers on the ledge. It wasn't a big ledge either. Just big enough for 4...maybe 5 beast wide. As the group walked the other portion of the otter crew trailed behind. "Not too much farther now..." he said stopping which stopped the rest. He pointed in the distance at the cliffside. If one looked closely enough, one would be able to see a cavern/cave with a ledge sticking out as an overlook in which they would be able to watch over the sea for passing ships. Looking to the left they would be able to see the towering mountain of Salamandastron giving the crew a clear view of the area around them all the while keeping them hidden against the rocks. "About 20 minutes now..."

"Excuse me," she said, ears twitching. "Mister Blade? I was wondering if your holt might have some records of events and happenings in the area?" It was a half-baked question, but her obvious position as a scholar would cover for that. Honestly she didn't need an answer--any holt would have records of who passed by and when, and probably why.

"I dunno...Not mah' job to keep up with it...Ask tha' Undertaker...He'll know..." he said Simply. Undertaker?!

[Sam Gideon]

Sam tended to Fieuline against his will. Every fiber in his body wanted to smote that moronic rat. Yet, this was not the place nor the time and he could wait. As the old saying goes "Good things come to those who wait." He was willing to wait. Most certainly, and if it took him years he would get his revenge on this rat for nothing was sweeter than watching the suprise of another animal's face as you gut them straight through their dirty black heart. Sam was not out to get every vermin on the face of the planet as the mousemaid had suggested earlier. No, he wanted to bring to justice those that he could at the time that he felt was right. That was why he was willing to wait.

But for now, he had to pretend. That was constantly on Sam Gideons mind because if he slipped up, they might be able to smell his true plans and he would that would end his career and life instantaneously. So he blotted some of Fieuline's wounds and checked the herbalist books to make sure that he was doing everything apropriately so that the would would not get infected or damaged further.

This was all he could do for her for now. So before she could say any caustic comments towards him that might prevoke him to anger, he left for supper and started to formulate a plan to get Maximillion's heart through the tip of his blade.

((Technically, it was my turn to post but I waited solely because I felt like I had nothing to work with. I'm not bad at monologuing but that's not the point of rp lol.))

[Yves]

((Um, no disrespect Sam, but how did he surmise that Fieuline was Maximillian's "drivel-headed partner in crime?" Not that she isn't, of course, but I think she's had like... a paragraph of dialogue in this roleplay, most of which had to do with defending Max's choice to kill her... xD))

"Twenty minutes?! Twenty minutes until we get to this hovel of his, and we've already probably spent that arguing over this damn business. . . Doesn't he understand that the mouse is dieing? I don't even think she's bleeding anymore. If it hadn't been for the squirrel, she would be dead, and I would bet money that she won't make it even now..."

The facts did appear hopeless. Through some miracle of clotting, the mouse had at last stopped bleeding, but everyone, even the otters, bore some rusty-red badge from Fieuline. A trail of blood followed them from the original scene, where the festering pool still choked the air with its nauseous fumes, transforming the once placid, white beach into a morbid, silent witness to a crime only too apparent. As for Fieuline herself, hardly an inch of her once elegant body wasn't soaked in the rotting ooze. Her eyes, those gems that had been so full of vigor, so sharp and perceptive before Maximillian had closed them, were now not merely closed, but actually crusted shut, as though her own body was intent on sealing them together forever. She looked a corpse, and a brutal one at that.

So, even after all Maximillian had done, Fieuline would die. Because of the incompetence and stupidity of these otters, an innocent mouse, his own victim, would meet an unnecessary, cruelly painful demise.

"...And because of that, it doesn't matter what happens at this point. So what if we die? She's done for if we let them walk the twenty minutes. She's probably done for anyway. Risking our lives here is the only option left to us."

Maximillian stopped in his tracks, and, in his typically and reasonable way, began to berate Blade.

"Listen otter, I don't know who you are, what you're doing with us, or why, but I am Maximillian, and I am submitting to you because I had thought you would save that mouse. Obviously, that's not your goal. If that had been your goal, you would not have insisted on holding us up for god knows how long, and you would not insist on walking with this bleeding, unconcious, practically dead victim for more than a third of an hour." He pulled these last words out slowly, as the passion met a climactic crescendo in his voice, "Now she will die if we don't stop, sit down, clean her and her wound, and treat her with MY medicines NOW."

Maximillian had almost begun to shout as he reached the end. Although no one had seen him draw it, he was holding his sword. He breathed slowly, and heavily, as he forced the last words out with a disturbing calmness.

"So, will you stop and let me tend to her, or will you kill us both?"

[Wildrun]

((I'm alive! So sorry for the wait! I hate school! BALRG!

...Now to post. ^^" ))

"These medicines?"

Mapel held out one of the small packets she had fished from out of Max's bag, one of the ones he had told her earlier not to touch. He paw shook only slightly--her white fur was streaked from shoulder to tail with Fieuline's blood, the consequence of having supported the mousemaid earlier. Despite her clear voice, Mapel's head was crowded with fog and clamering voices from long-gone scenarios, and from this one right here, the ugly drama she had unwittingly taken a part in. And, also, in the very furthest, darkest corners of her mind, she felt like laughing; beofre she had laughed, laughed at the prospect that the rat who had caused the stench of blood to linger on her body and in her nostrils had turned around on his tail and become the worshipping protector of his victim, the previous owner of the loathsome blood.

Just like in a book.

Just like in a play.

A perfectly villainous drama; the otters, those brawny goodbeasts so respected and looked up to by everyone, had indeed become the villians. So, she wanted to laugh again, now, hysterically and without restraint. She wanted so badly to laugh at all these ridiculous characters and the otters who played the villians...

At least, so Mapel decided, that was how Max was seeing them--as the ultimate enemy. But at the very least, they would arrive at the holt soon, proper care would be given, and it was all going to turn out to happy ending after all...

Then one voice, the sound of a kinsmouse (may he rest in peace!) being murdered by stoats, screamed through the fog without warning and the mist in her head cleared. Mapel blinked, then realized that she was holding out the small package to Maximillian because Maximillian had stopped moving.

Why has he stopped moving? Why is he challenging Blade again?

As the events of a bare minute past rolled through her mind as recorded by her eyes, a new question stampeded over any other thought processes in Mapel's brain: Why is wasting time?

A noise like a whistle burst past her lips, and Mapel flung the package at Max, dropping his bag to the sand. "You damned hypocrite! Taking up time is what YOU'RE doing, right now! I agree that the Skipper was in the wrong to stop us earlier but now we have a chance to make it to an actual dwelling, a real establishment, which assurdedly contains more living souls inside it who are knowledable with medicine then you! So, to quote a pirate stoat I had the unpleasant experience of running into last spring, 'Why don't yer shut yer gob an' drop that liddle stick, or I'll use mine t' shut it for yer!'"

Seething with a bizarre kind of rage, she shoved past the rat and halted in front of Blade--some otters behind her were muttering in their salty accents, thumping their rudders and sending her a stare. Mapel's nostrils flared once, and her paws were clenched as she asked Blade, in a voice so polite that it was almost shocking to hear after her outburst, "Excuse me, sir, but could we please speed up the pace a little? We're all anxious to have Fieuline treated. Is ther any shorter detour to your holt?"

A bare second after the words had left her mouth, a terrible thought flashed into Mapel's barin--an alternate ending to this drama aside from the happy, peaceful one that had seemed likely earlier. An ending bathed in steaming, sticky, stinking red blood...

Is there any shorter way to lose my mind? Mapel drew in a deep breath and plastered the diplomatic expression back into place. Dear gods, I hope not.

[Yves]

((Welcome back Wildrun.

And yeah, sorry, I guess I'm getting--alright, have been--redundant. I just need something to do, though, you know; I could use a little freedom aside from walking, and fighting, arguing, and being on death's door ^^;; Maybe we could actually arrive at the holt, or put Maximillian into some sort of cage, knock him out (you have my permission if that's your wish) or... something? *nods meaningfully at Skipper*

The reason I keep nudging to treat Fieuline is that I've got a bio up for her now, so I can use her as a serious character. It would be stupid to just have her randomly wake up, however.

P.S. Sorry if all this OOC is a tad much, but could we concretely list a posting order real fast, please? Even if we just make it up starting with Skipper, I'm a little lost ^^;)

[Wildrun]

((I vouch that that the current order should be Skipper, Sam, Wildrun, and then Yves--I don't mean to put you on the bottom, buddy, but since most people adress you in their posts it makes more sense for you to be able to answer them without having another poster blindside you with another snide comment. *pokes Oaklea*

Oaklea: Don't look at me, you're the one who posted it.

Me: -.-"

Um, yah, so, anyway, we can make adjustments, easy, anyone with ideas?

And I agree with you, Yves, it'd make more sense to just sort of fast forward to where she's treated. Less "filler" posting for all of us. ))

[Yves]

((Right then. Why not assume something nasty happens to Max and fast-forward to the holt, then? Skipper can decide what to do with Max while Wildrun and Sam get their bearings in the new environment. Meanwhile, of course, Fieuline can be awake, but still in some sort of non-ambulant state somewhere in the holt, again decided on by Skipper.))

[Skipper of Sea Otters]

((Please note the skipper has not entered the story yet. Its actually his first mate Blade that leading you.))


Max was being impatient...so were the rest of the travelers. If the mousemaid was rushed and bounced about even more serious problem could arise from the mess. BLADE turned around hearing Max's threats. " You Listen...and you listen good..." Blade was agitated and everyone could sense it...Bad things happened when he got agitated...and he wasn't one to get agitated often. Normally he wasn't the one to calm himself down either...

"Listen and listen good..You lost your right to say or do anything when you came on these shores...The monument you stepped foot on the sand you lost all your right to make a decision...You are not in charge..." he said as he started poking his shoulder He eyes ablaze with fury and irritation It would take one small thing to set him off if he allowed it. "From the second I laid eyes on you you've been nothing but trouble and disrespect to authority..."Blade turn back around and balled up his fist as if to contain all his anger in it... He began to walk towards the Holt again clenching he paw tight and gritting his teeth. He stopped...He couldn't bare it anymore... He spun around keeping his fist at his side.

Suddenly there was a massive beast behind that suddenly appeared while Blade had his back turned. Max was in some sort of choke hold by a massive forearm. Max's arm was pulled behind him with a loud snap. He Sword dropped to the ground with a Shing! Clank! Tap tap!. The beast behind him was a otter! An over sized, dark(almost black), very muscular yet cut, otter! He would almost be a match for a young badger! He towered over Max and Blade. The Snap of an arm, Max was then thrown to the rock wall to the right and his leg snapped with a kick from the otter's hefty leg. The huge otter had an elegant dagger drawn now and pressed against the beast throat. Blade lept and grabbed hold of the arm holding it. "No no no!" he said trying to pull it away as best he could. The otter looked down at Blade. "Put that away!" Blade shouted almost in a panic "Put it down! Put them both down!" Wit that the Otter put his dagger away and with little effort tossed Max's body against the wall letting him fall to the ground a few feet from the edge of the cliff and the watery grave below.

He otter had a very intimidating features as well as muscle and as well as an over sized meat cleaver strapped to his back. The otter had a deep voice and always a stern look. He wasnt a Sea otter though...He was with the Skipper's crew...but wasn't a sea otter...he could have been a river otter...perhaps...only time would tell. He had a blue medallion around his neck. Blade picked up the dagger and knelt down beside Max. "Where have you been?!" Blade asked looking up. The otter pointed up to the cliff above them. It was a good 40 feet. Surely he didn't jump....

The otter picked up his dagger placing it back into his belt and spoke with a deep tone,...that of a leaders. "Lets get going..." He said walking over Max's form. Blade shook his head and leaned into Max's ear... "If it makes you feel any better...you had it easy...Uh....sorry about him...." He said standing up. He motion to a couple of otters you bring a makeshift stretcher/cot. "From the looks of it...a broke leg, Arm...and...many cuts from the rocks...." he said before he turned to the main group. "Not too far now! only about 5 minutes! See there!?" he said pointing to the mass opening in the rock wall about 70 feet from the water. "C'mon lets get goin'!" he said turning around rubbing the back of his neck. Perfect...I have thing sunder control...then...he....shows up... he said to himself as he followed the path behind Undertaker...


It became a steady incline upwards. From here they could now see the Holt entrance. The path became a more and more narrow until only 2 could fit on it side by side. He they reach the top it seemed to be a platform sticking out of the cliff about halfway in the middle. there was a small fire built on the platform type cliff just outside the entrance. From here you could see the entire sea and could just see the mountain of Salamandastron in the distance. The actual entrance to the Holt looked like the entrance to a cave. It was in some sorts a cave. It was certainly open and very spacious. As they would enter they would find it to be very Dark lit only by torches that were placed near every entrance to every other chamber. In the middle of the cav-like place there was pool of crystal clear blue-gree water which seemed to be lighted somehow whether it was light shining through from the outside or what it was unsure. If one were to swim through it however very near the bottom one would find to underwater pathways. One leading to the cove where the 2 ships were kept and another leading to the surface some few miles out near the Moss.

In the Holt However were a few points of interest upon entering. to the immediate left the Kitchens where a few otters could be seen laughing and carrying on. Down from that to the right the Infirmaries where the young mousemaid was taken immediately. Down from that the stock room where some weapons and travel essentials were kept. Strait ahead was a long dark tunnel which was an Exit to the Mossflower woods. It stretched for a good 2 miles out. Luckily the Holt hadn't had to use it at all there was one otter standing there with a spear in hand though incase someone tried to go through. To the right of the tunnel, The Skipper's Quarters It had 2 otters at the door talking casually around a nearby fire making arrows. To the right of the Skippers quarter was a tunnel that could be considered the dormitories...most just used it as a place to store thier personal belongings though...

Blade grinned..."Home sweet home....Undertaker..." he said calling him over. Undertaker walked over towering over him a reasonable bit. "Your the Infirmary healer...can you go tend to them please...." he said with a sigh almost reluctantly. Even though Blade was first mate...It was Undertaker that the Skipper favored. Perhaps Because he can relate with him... Still though the Skipper respected Blade and assigned him as First mate for many reasons....

[Sam Gideon]

Sam had watched the otters bring in Maximillion to the holt on a cot. Immediately the conclusion jumped to his mind that Max had done something deserving of it. After all he was a vermin and vermin were incapable of doing good things to others. Eventually, he had known that Max would have some repercussions for being such a cruel beast. After all he was a vermin, and vermin did not have the capacity to be good to others unless it entailed rewards or booty for themselves. That was part of the vermin lifestyle and always would be, and he just wished the mousemaid would understand this.

This was why the world needed beasts like Sam because without defenders of the defensless than the free beasts would be overunn by the scum that comes from types like Maximillion. It was his job to ensure that those beasts were taken care of properly. But he shouldn't appear too interested in what happened to Max. He just needed to cure the mousemaid. Then the thought came to him "I don't need to take care of him, because justice will." That thought satisfied his lust for atonement and he assured himself that he would not be the one to finish off Max. For all vermin get their just fate in the end.

"If I meet him on the plains of the battle field though, that is a different matter." He thought amusingly as he tucked in a roll that the otters provided him with.

He turned to Blade as he came in with Max and asked with concern "What happened? Did he try and gut one our allies? You shoulda given him worse that!" He said with a snicker as he saw that only his arm was broken and he had some scratches from the rocks. Vermin were so stupid and pathetic. They never knew when to pick fights because they were brainless.

Why would any rat pick a fight with some beast as strong as an otter? It's would be a death sentence to be sure. But then again, rats haven't always been the smartest animals on earth. "I hope that he at least learns his lesson from this. Maybe he'll learn a thing or two about karma haaha!" He thought mockinlgy as he remembered what he had done to Fieuline.

((Sams in the holt too right? Sorry for not posting, I've been doing other things recently in rl.))

[Yves]

(( Oh yeah, I gave him permission Wildrun ^^ sorry, I should have mentioned it earlier. I don't know about suggesting it though... But whatever, it works.

Carry on ^_^))

[Wildrun]

((Okay then, if you say so *gives everyoen the evil eye* I'm watching you, Wisowski, always waaaatchhing...Alllwaaayyyss... *so totally ripped off Monsters Inc.*

Oh, and sorry for the wait, been sick for the past week. Well, taht's what I get for walking through a windy graveyard for three hours in Arlington, Virginia, with only my thin coat on. ^^" It was a fun field trip, though, we got to see the Iwo Jima memorial and everything! Visited the Marine Corps Museum...so cool. If your ever in Arlington with the day off, go visit it! Awesome virtual stimulators. There's a virtual boat landing on Iwo Jima and everything! * fan moment*

...Ahem...right, the posting...eh heh... ^^" Will do. *scuttles off*))

There was really nothing to say. The haze had come back, and there was no shaking it this time. Mapel trotted along silently, nearly tripping once or twice in her inattention. Upon reaching the holt, she simply put her back agaisnt the smooth stone walls and slumped to the floor, staring about her.

I wonder why Sam doesn't seem upset...hmm, he probably thinks Max deserved that...Well, maybe he did, I don't know...Oh, good, they're taking care of Fieuline now...that's what we came here for, isn't it? Right...

After another drawn out moment or two of simply sitting, unresponsive to the curious stares the otters were giving her here and there, the name of the massive otter drifted to her ears as Blade adressed him. Mapel's head jerked up, and she stared. That's...thier Undertaker!?

...Then, almost as if her mind was apologizing to her for not remebering earlier, the realy definition of the word 'undertaker' came back to her--not as it was used casually back at her long-left home, in her tribe, where the word meant the keeper of records and recorder of events--but as it had been used by other beasts.

A mortician. A funeral director.

A small smirk twitched at the corners of her lips. How fitting.

Steadying herself agaisnt the wall with a paw, Mapel staggered upright, shaking her head forcefully and frowning when the fog did not dispel. Blowing through her nose, agitated, she slipped her way between the otters in the room and trailed quietly after the massive otter to the infirmary, passing Sam on the way without looking down at him.

[Yves]

Fieuline's eyes wanted to open, but needles kept them stitched shut. Well, maybe not, but that was what the crust felt like. Her eyelids cleaved together like a grafted branch weaves into its plant, or like welded pieces of metal melt together. The eyelids were not merely stuck to her cheeks; they were part of her cheeks.

She wouldn't be seeing anything then. Alright, well, what about her other senses? She could feel, but only what she didn't want to—only the hole in her back, the thick lethargy which was her circulation, the crust which might have once been a tongue. Smell? Maybe, once she figured out how to get the sand out of her nose; or maybe it was dead skin; or then again, her nose might have died as an organ.

So, all that was out. What about her ears? Ah, now there was potential. She could hear just fine, the beach with its waves like swords sliding on metal, the room, or whatever it was, with the whispers like the loosing of arrows. If she listened very closely, Fieuline could just barely make out the words. She struggled to move, to let them know that she was back, and she needed washing and water...

All of this would have excited Maximillian, if he had not been too busy being excited by the way his limbs now seemed to have an existence beyond himself. They flopped around like panicked animals, tethered to him by mere chords—very bloody, painful chords of flesh and muscle. His head melted to one side, away from the swelling bulge where it had cracked against the rock. His chest kept getting stuck against his vest, and the fur would rip very painfully if he moved the wrong way. This was because blood from where the knife was pressed to his neck was flowing down and drying on the fur. That made it sticky, and that got it caught where the pieces of his leather piece of armor fit together.

He still hadn't figured out a coherent way to turn all this agony into rage, and his poor brain hadn't even figured out that it would be necessary to then communicate that rage if he wanted to get anywhere.

This was because his brain was in the middle of a civil war. Parts of it thought that it should be swelling up to make up for lost liquids, while others argued for deflating the brain and giving the over-worked piece of equipment a rest, while still others thought it was all lost and were ready to resign. Of course, the more cogent parts of Maximillian's brain felt sure that this would probably kill them, but Philosophy had begun to get mixed together with the now liquified Logic processors, and so it asked why death really mattered anyway, and had begun to rant on about the meaninglessness of metabolism and so forth. And that was just 1.563435535 percent of the brain's problems, assuming that the math parts were still working. That was nonsense though. Maximillian's math receptors didn't process correctly when he was in a normal state of mind.

Needless to say, apart from breathing, no one was really willing to keep an eye on the body, so they just put it on instincts-autopilot. This resulted in a lot of spitting, and gurgled, incomprehensible shouting, and clawing, and biting. In fact, Instinct probably did a much better job of expressing the rage than Maximillian's concious brain would have managed.

[Skipper of Sea Otters]

((Whos turn is it?))

[Sam Gideon]

((Technically it's mine, but I'm quitting because I just don't have enough time for all my hobbies. Hope to see you sometime in the future; good luck and have fun with the rping guys!))

[Wildrun]

((Aw, that sucks! Bye, Sam.

I guess that means it's Skipper's turn. ))