Northward

[Tracy]

The haremaid didn't seem put off much when she and Cordin spoke at the same time. It took a lot for her to lose any kind of momentum, truly. His awkwardness and pause confused her momentarily, but she let it slide when he went on replying.

Ripley knew that Cordin's journeys away from Salamandastron were few and far between, but she was clearly surprised by his answer. Three years?! How did anybeast stay in one spot for three years? The scout's need for travel was one reason –among plenty others, to be sure- that she was never promoted. Even before she was an actual soldier, she'd traveled far and wide, learning all about the surrounding world before it even became her job to do so.

Eyebrows raised, she turned about from her position, walking ahead of the group, to look at Cordin. She walked backwards as she spoke, unconcerned with running into anything. Who would let that happen to her?

Her answer matched the playful look on her face. "Well look, you've been somewhere I never have!" She nodded over at the sea beside them. "I've never been too interested in travelin' the big ol' drink." Ripley knew of Cordin's tangle with a shark in the past, but not in any great detail; it didn't seem a topic he was too eager to discuss much. She mentally made a note to learn about that, as well. Maybe there was still more to be learned about the Corporal.

Pausing and turning about, Ripley dropped back to walk beside Cordin. "I've been as far north coast-side as the Northern Mountains once, but I've never been inland from there t'actually see them." She squatted briefly to pick up a conch shell she'd nearly trod on. "One day though."

"Good idea."

Ripley smiled a little at the captain's simple reply, his little comment to let her know he was still in charge of this mission. "I know," she shrugged. Ripley was made up of good ideas.

Turning the shell idly around in her paws. Her attention turned to Aidan then again, with a thought. "Have you ever been t'the Northern Mountains?"

[Sigurd]

Ductile took a large bite out of his portion. "Um, good grub, wot! Don't know why you're carrying around the spices, and wotnot, but good show, Sergeant Cook Zade!" the Colour Sergeant declared, indicating towards the scoundrel sergeant.

"Where's the patrols, Presley?" MacCross asked his corporal, who was savoring his bit of trout as long as he could.

"Oh, wot, sah? Oh, the scouts? Um, let me see!" Corporal Presley said, stammering up. Shielding his eyes from the noon sun, he nodded. "Here comes Fribbs Prime's patrol, sah! Oh, and, er, the other Fribbs and his patrol seem to be loping up the hills! Yes, yes, here they are, sah!"

--

The two patrols arrived almost simultaneously, Fribbs Prime's maybe twenty minutes ahead. The corporal saluted with his heavy sabre, "We saw a campsite by the river, sah. Sea otters, by the looks of it. Camp was abandoned, save for one dead chap, wot. Old grampa sea otter. We, buried him by the riverbed. But, there was a lot of blood! Sah!"

"Nothing to report, sah! Our patrol saw relatively nothing, wot, wot!" Lance Corporal Gonzo, the leader of that scouting patrol reported, saluting with his long dagger.

--

"Alright, lads, eat up, scouts, cuz' we're heading to that otter camp, wot! Fribbs Prime, you remember where it is?" The Colour Sergeant asked, getting a nod in reply. "Alright, Zade, clean up your mess, and as soon as our scouts have eaten their fillings, we're on the move!"

[Ash Rowan]

The sergeant put out the fire and scattered the remains, destroying all traces. "First off, Colour Sergeant, I'm not the official cook! Second, well... there isn't a second." He went on with his business. "Now... where did I put that garlic, wot? Oh. I'm sitting on it, whoops!"

They arrived at the river in the early evening, Pawl ran up to inspect the camp, "Hmm, must have left a while ago. I was never good at tracking, never had any need on the ship, it was all water..." they could tell he was rambling. Corporal Presley stopped him, "Zade!"

Pawl stopped, "Sorry ol' chap!"

[Romulus]

"Well look, you've been somewhere I never have!" She nodded over at the sea beside them. "I've never been too interested in travelin' the big ol' drink."

"Weren't exactly my bolly choice," Cordin said with a tilt of his head and eyebrows. "I were bloody shoved in, and--ah, I jolly well s'pose that's another story, wot?" It wasn't as though the corporal was reluctant to share his past. He just figured this wasn't the time to share.

"I've been as far north coast-side as the Northern Mountains once, but I've never been inland from there t'actually see them." She squatted briefly to pick up a conch shell she'd nearly trod on. "One day though."

Cordin smiled. "I've barely been past the jolly ol' river, doncha know?" He chuckled once, watching Ripley skipping backwards before him. He knew she couldn't bear staying at the mountain for more than a week at a time.

Personally, the corporal didn't mind remaining in one place so long as the training room was always stocked with dummies (or trainees) for him to hone his skills against. In fact, he wasn't much of a traveler, really. He enjoyed it, and it wasn't as though he was a homebody. But he would stay where he was put and go where he was ordered.

"Good idea."

"I know."

"Pfft!" Cordin covered his mouth, stifling a laugh. Ripley's reply (delivered with barely-concealed smugness in Cordin's ears) was somehow incredibly funny. He took his paw away from his mouth and grinned, ears flopping to half-mast comically. Oh, Ripley, you never cease to entertain.

[Sigurd]

"Yer' carrying around spices, Zade, you're the cook!" MacCross replied, putting away his cask. "Presely, remind me not to eat anything Zade makes with garlic!"

"Will do, sah!" the corporal saluted.

--

Fibbs Prime nodded at Zade, "Well, we kind of figured that, Zade, wot, wot! The trail was cold a few hours ago. Now, cahp, it must be bloomin' freezin'!"

"Zade, stow your gab, wot! Geez, it's ship this, and it's cold that!" MacCross sighed, rolling his eye. The Colour Sergeant looked down at the various bloodstains. "Hmm, Fribbs Prime, wot do yer' reckon happened here, wot?"

"Well, sah, the otters were enjoyin' a nice lunch or dinner, or wotnot, when, by the looks of it, rats struck. You can tell by the footstep by the fire, wot!" Friibs Prime indicated the sooty footprint, before continuing on, "The otters tried to put up a fight, but weren't prepared, and the rats slaughtered the poor chaps. Or, almost slaughtered. We only found one dead body, so we can assume that the rest were taken prisoner. We measured about seven otters, including the old grandpa seadog, wot, so that's six wounded otters with them. Some may be heavily injured, to boot. If they're slavers, they'll want to preserve their new gains, and will be moving slowly in order to keep the slaves in good health. Shouldn't be too hard to catch up with bounders. A day, two tops! Sah!" the corporal cried out in military fashion.

"Good show, chap! You'll make Lieutenant in no time!" MacCross said, patting the younger hare on the back.

[Grath]

Turning the shell idly around in her paws. Her attention turned to Aidan then again, with a thought. "Have you ever been t'the Northern Mountains?"

“A few times, lass. I was born there. I have been there since. I have been to the high north coast, too many years ago now to count.” Too many years indeed. Always traveling, always fighting. His Fur’n’Foot patrol went everywhere, anywhere they were needed.

“The coast is not ‘ow ye remem’r it,” This came from Tampa, her voice hoarse from silence and anger—hatred. “Fear rules there now. Obsidius Bane an’ ‘is horde, with the monster that slaughtered our families and feasts on our flesh. Ah would no think that this thing is easy, that ye weesh to do.”

She clutched the straps of her bag and strode ahead of the group, her webbed paws leaving sharp indentations to be washed away by the wave.

[Ash Rowan]

Pawl sat by the old otter's grave, "Dratted slavers! Always thinkin' they can control otherbeast's lives, wot!" He got up and ran in the direction of the slavers. Five seconds later, there was a loud CRASH followed by Pawl screaming and the sound of a tree falling.

Everybeast in the patrol winced. Corporal Presley facepalmed, "Oh, Zade."

He came staggering out with some leaves and twigs in his fur, "Oh jolly good, the... Jaffas... are... uuuuh!" He fell on his bottom.

"Right chaps, lets go!" Presley shouted, "Sarge! Of yore bum! We've gotta follow these rotters!"

Pawl practically flew up, "Right, sorry. Um... which direction?"

The corporal facepalmed again.

[Tracy]

"I've barely been past the jolly ol' river, doncha know?"

The scout sighed despairingly, throwing her paws up in the air as if in defeat. She was being dramatic of course, but it got her point across. "Oh Corporal Cordin." One could tell from the look on her face that she just realized that worked out in her little alliteration game. "There's a whole big wide world out there an' you've seen nothin' of it."

Ripley listened to Aidan, although it seemed she was thinking about other things. She'd wondered about his connection to the Northern Mountains before now. It might've been the fact she practically never spoke with him, but she was never able to pick up an accent on him, something she'd noticed almost instantly from his sister the first time they'd met. But she must've been there much less than Aidan, if at all. Maybe it was just a family trait she'd snagged.

A black-tipped ear pivoted at the sound of the otter, who'd remained so obstinately silent thus far. Despite Tampa's ominous mutterings, all Ripley could think about was if she could believably mimic her strong Northern accent. And how to go about attempting it without outrageously offending the sulking stranger. For the next few hours, when things grew quiet or boring, she could be heard attempting some of the words in a low voice, stringing together plausible sentences in a Northern accent.

~~

The sun was setting on their first day of travel and Ripley was a little surprised by the distance the group had made. Still not nearly as far as she could manage on her own, but impressive nonetheless. Granted, it was their first day of travel; day two was the real test. As she set her stuff about, it was Cordin she was watching. How had he fared such a long day of trekking?

Their one stop of the day had been for lunch during the warmest part of the day. It was shortly after Ripley's dip inland to the valley. When she returned, she looked pleased, and her anxious, bouncy steps had finally ceased. She'd really needed a good run.

But now they were setting about camp for the night. They had moved a touch inland to get off the itchy, shifting sand on the beach, and into the grassy, more sheltered woodland behind the dunes. She assumed they were going to be allowed a fire, but she left that chore to someone else. Instead, she went clearing space for all them, free of rocks and pointy bits of wood and bark.

"Anybeast a cook?" she asked of her travel companions. "I can manage somethin' if you lot aren't a picky sort."

[Sigurd]

Well, not every beast. Two of the patrol were actually scanning the scene. "Zade, shut it, wot!" the Colour Sergeant snapped, getting fed up with the ridiculous sergeant. "Presley, keep Zade in line! Corporal Fribbs Prime, Lance Corporal Gonzo, Lance Corporal Tupa, Private Jerpa, scout ahead! Okay, Lance Corporal Fribbs, I want you on point! Lance Corporal Uggutuli, take the back! Presley, keep Zade in line, in the middle!" the Colour Sergeant ordered.

Presley saluted. "Yes, sah!" he cried out.

[Ash Rowan]

Pawl held up his paws, "Well ol' chap, I guess I'm in your custody, wot!"

"Guess so." the corporal responded.

"Oh and, aren't you NOT supposed to refer to somebeast that's not an officer as, 'sah'?" the sergeant asked.

"Um... Let's go!"

***

They followed the tracks until the night, where they made camp. Pawl was busy telling the younger members about his past life, "Once, we were out of the coast aways, when we almost got sucked into the Green Maelstrom! The captain was yelling commands like a mad beast, 'Haul this!' and 'Stow that!' and all that piratey whatnot. Of course, we were made to do double work tryin' to steer the ship in the right direction. We finally made it out, when an ol' squirrelchap collapsed..."

Presley interrupted, "And you went up and saved him but got stabbed in the side which is how you got that scar, yeah yeah yeah we know. You've said it a million flippin' times, wot!"

"Well you didn't have to ruin the ending, wot!" Pawl said, clutching his side side, wincing.

[Romulus]

Cordin only grinned at Ripley's exasperation. Apparently, he was not at all well-traveled in her opinion. Which was fine with him. He was still trying to figure out Ripley's opinion of him, anyway. Now he just had another piece of that little puzzle.

-

When the sun was setting, Cordin felt like he could keep going, but he realized it was best to make camp for the night. As Ripley set about clearing an area for them, Cordin took it upon himself to build their fire.

By the time he'd gathered kindling and such and begun to set flint to tinder, the sky was nearly dark. He got a healthy blaze going in mere moments, and then Rip spoke up.

"Anybeast a cook?" she asked of her travel companions. "I can manage somethin' if you lot aren't a picky sort."

"Picky?" Cordin repeated as if the very idea offended him. "I'm a rough-ridin' soldier, Private Contarelle, wot, wot? I live off the bolly land when I have to, doncha know? I'm not flippin' picky. Can't jolly well be picky in the great ol' outdoors, wot?"

[Tulian Solum]

The day hadn't been going as well for the third traveling party, of one. Thanks to Seig's complete lack of knowledge of sand crawling he had taken the shifty, hot sands, in full view of the blazing sun. The ferrets pace had been slowing all day as he leaned lower and lower from the heat and exhaustion. Sighing as he crested another dune he fell back on his tail and let his halberd plomp into the soft sand.

Taking one of the three canteens he had been giving he took a short drink and then splashed a some of the water over his face and the inside of his helmet. Nodding a little he put the slightly cold steel helmet back on and nodded, securing it around his chin. It would hopefully keep his head cool and also keep out the sun. Taking another drink he got back to his feet and retrieved his halberd, starting off once again down one dune and up the other, now looking like a shiny beacon in the dunes. A metal clad figure slowly making his way down the shore.

But he finally called it quits as the sun was setting at the bottom of a particular steep dune he had half rolled half fallen down. Cleaning out his mouth he grumbled and tossed his helmet off to the side, falling back to lay against the incline of the sand. But before he gave in to sleep he forced himself to stand and at least get some things prepared. Setting his armor and weapons beside him he pulled a blanket out from his backpack and set it against the dune where he would sleep. Taking another drink he dropped the empty canteen beside it and started to walk off in search of some wood to make a fire...taking his short sword with him, just in case.

(He can be spotted if you would like by either party, if not he'll probably run into one of you before the next night if that's ok.)

[Kenyon]

"Anybeast a cook?" she asked of her travel companions. "I can manage somethin' if you lot aren't a picky sort."

Unused to making a camp, Tampa found a little hollow in the grass where they had stopped and set about making it comfortable. Meaning she flattened the grass in a circular pattern and left her pack in a position where it would make a good backrest. Satisfied, she curled into the small area and lay watching the activity around the growing camp. Cordin went about making a fire, while Ripley fidgeted around the camp.

"Picky?" Cordin repeated as if the very idea offended him. "I'm a rough-ridin' soldier, Private Contarelle, wot, wot? I live off the bolly land when I have to, doncha know? I'm not flippin' picky. Can't jolly well be picky in the great ol' outdoors, wot?"

“Go ahead, Ripley. My cooking would send a toad packing.” Aidan chuckled, dropping his contribution to the cozy little camp, a collapsible bucket holding fresh, cold water. He found a comfortable place to sit and drew a blade from one of his hidden sheathes, taking up his oilstone to refine the dulled edge.

[Tracy]

As soon as she posed the offer, Ripley knew she'd be the one preparing the meal. That was fine by her, but she silently dared anyone to try and complain about any meal she prepared. She was plenty used to throwing together food for herself, but cooking for the group was a bit different. Rationing the food for five, especially for such a long trip, was no easy task. But they were headed north toward River Moss, and the haremaid knew plenty of places to rustle up some supplies off the land near the river.

Still, better safe than sorry. In one of their bags there was a decent-sized pot, which she dipped into their water and set up over the fire. After that, she went rustling through their supplies, turning up a lot of various fruits and vegetables. She put the fruit back, thinking they would be better for breakfast. They had a good amount of vegetables, but she wanted to be careful how much she used, just in case. She took one stalk of leek and four turnips, washing them in a bit more of their water.

Sitting on the ground, she took out her dagger and diced up the leek and turnips before dumping them into the nearly boiling water. She then dipped into her own supplies from her satchel: spices and herbs she carried with her everywhere. Going through them, she dumped some sage, thyme and marjoram into the pot, using a large wooden spoon to stir it together. With trying to make their supplies last, the concoction was more soup than stew, a bit more watery than Ripley would've liked. Thinking for a moment, she went into their supplies again, fishing out a few pawfuls of oats, dumping those into the pot as well. They didn't do much for the flavor, but would significantly thicken up the stew, and add a bit more pleasant texture.

"We've some bread, too, if you lot want some. There isn't a lot of it, so we might want t'save it? It should last a bit longer than our other rations." While the stew boiled down, Ripley immediately cleaned her dagger and put it away. After that, she went over and sat by Cordin, taking out a pawful of pine nuts from her own satchel to curb her appetite as the smell of the stew filled the camp. She held her paw out a bit, offering some to the corporal.

[Romulus]

"We've some bread, too, if you lot want some. There isn't a lot of it, so we might want t'save it? It should last a bit longer than our other rations."

Cordin shrugged, settling down near the fire. "Yore the master chef, m' gel," he replied. "Though t'would be jolly smart not t' use up a good portion o' wot we got the first night out, wot?"

The corporal idly twisted and untwisted the twine around his wrists, inhaling the scent of the soup. Ooh, that smelled nice. Well, any food would've smelled nice after a day like today. Not that the travel had been hard on him, but he was hungry now.

However, he was momentarily surprised when Ripley sat down next to him and offered him some pine nuts. He didn't think she hated him, but . . . It just caught him off-guard, he supposed. Perhaps he was just reading too much into it. It was, after all, a simple and friendly gesture. One he'd have done, were the roles switched.

So, he took a couple nuts, nodded his thanks, and munched on them alongside Ripley. Between bites, he asked, "So, ye always carry a bloomin' kitchen 'round with ye??

[Kenyon]

Tampa stirred from her little grassy depression, taking some of the offered bread. She drew back, holding the food defensively. A lifelong habit was hard to break. She huddled against her pack and devoured it in a few large bites. The soup’s scent made her belly rumble, but she refrained from going after it. Greed would only ensure all got nothing. Eat what was given to you, grabbing for the pot would only ensure everyone would starve, because they would all go after it, and it would be knocked to the ground, where it would be trampled underpaw as everybeast scrambled to lick up the smallest bit of extra gruel from the ground…

Her stomach rumbled again. Wait. Wait…

--

The rasp of stone on metal stopped briefly. Aidan drew a soft, worn cloth down the blade and sheathed it. Another one was drawn from his hidden sheaths and the stone went to work again. He listened to the conversation around the fire as he worked.

[Tracy]

Ripley drew her knees up against her from her seat on the ground. Even in the beginning of spring, there was a chill that crept into the air when night fell. Being right along the shore with the sea's breezy air made it even cooler.

"So, ye always carry a bloomin' kitchen 'round with ye?"

"It depends on the time o' year and where I'm going. I always have a bunch o' spices with me, an' I usually carry a few pouches of different nuts because they're an easy snack an' filling." She shrugged, and nodded over at the pot boiling over the fire. "All the fruits and vegetables are part o' the rations the Captain doled out. I don't usually drag any along."

Although she spoke to Cordin, her eyes were on the defensive and reclusive otter on the other side of their campfire. It didn't take much reasoning to understand why Tam was so protective of her food. But the otter had been at Salamandastron for several months now, right? Several months of vigilant medical attention and regular meals, never with the threat of being harmed or starved. How long did it take to break the cycle of fear and distrust in something as simple as having food to eat and share?

After letting the stew simmer awhile, Ripley stretched her arms out, then hopped lightly up to her feet. Rummaging through the supplies again, she turned up a few bowls. Taking the pot off the fire, she poured the contents equally into the bowls. She went around and handed them to the others.

After watching Tam inhale the proffered bread from earlier, the haremaid considered discouraging the otter from eating the near-boiling stew so quickly. But she changed her mind. She was not the otter's mother, and what did she really care? Once she gave Cordin his bowl, she walked over to hand one to Aidan.

"Are we taking watch shifts t'night or are we close enough to the mountain?" she asked the captain, although her tone clearly implied that she at least thought they were close enough not to worry.

[Tulian Solum]

Yawning as he stacked up driftwood on his arms Seig stretched his back a little. The question of what to do now soon being lost under the tiredness of his mind. Shrugging he slowly started to make his way back to his small camp where he had left his materials. But on the way back from the shore he stopped, turning his head slightly and sniffing, the air didn't normally smell that good.

Walking up a dune beside him he left his small stack of wood on top of it as he looked over the dunes. There was a small glow a few dunes over and the smell appeared at least to be coming from it. Shrugging he made sure the wood was standing as high as he could make it so he could find his way before he started to make his way toward the glow.

Finally cresting the dune where the glow was originating he lay prone for the last few feet before he was looking over at the glow. Maybe he could ask whoever was there for some help? But then he stopped. Hares. The same that had tossed him out their home just this morning. Grumbling a little after a few seconds of looking he abandoned that idea. Edging back down the dune, intending to head back to his camp to set up for the night.

[Sigurd]

OOC MacCross's patrol can find him. Um, by the way, Ash, would you mind not controlling the majority of NPCs, like how they all settled down. I feel like that should be the commanding officer (NCO, in this case) who'd decide that, you know?

"Zade, stow the gab, wot!" the colour sergeant said. "Presley, you and Zade are on guard duty with me. Can I trust you with that, Sergeant Zade? Guard duty does entail a need of quietness and alertness!"

"Presley, fan out tha' there flame, wot! The rest of you, lay your heads down, an' rest awhile! Fribbs Prime and his perimeter scout should be back within the hour!" the colour sergeant rested with his back to a big rock. To buy time, he fiddled with his dirk as his alert, good eye scanned the area for enemy assailants.

--

"Ferret three-fourths of a klick south-east!" Gonzo told Fribbs Prime. "Armed by the look of it. 'E spotted the camp, wot, wot!"

"Mercenary?" the corporal asked, pulling out his heavy sabre.

"Aye, wot, by the looks of it!" the lance corporal nodded.

"Surround him, weapons out! Talk to 'im, if ye' can, wot! He may have seen the beasties we're tracking. P'raps he is one, wot, wot!"

--

Quickly, the three hares (the third being the private, Tupa) spread around the ferrret, hiding in cover. Then, Fribbs Prime emerged in front of him. Fribbs Prime, on the smaller side, probably posed a strange enemy, carrying a long, heavy sabre, and garbed in his coat and headband, but his eyes were that of a warrior's.

"State your name and business, sah!" the corporal said, looking at the ferret. His two subordinates were still in hiding.

OOC: That good for you?

[Tulian Solum]

(Its all good :>)

Still grumbling as Seig made his way back to his small driftwood pile he hoisted the bits up again and walked off toward the largest dune where he hoped his camp still was. Thankfully it was but by his mutterings, and by result his thoughts of what to do now, he completely missed the second group of hares that were now watching him.

"Bloody bigoted hares with their...accents and mannerisms..." He muttered to himself as he set to work setting up the driftwood he had gathered into a simple triangle. Turning around to rummage around in his backpack for his flint he completely missed the hare stepping out to 'greet' him. But once he turned around he froze, that hare wouldn't be alone, and however many there were they were all likely armed.

Taking a deep breath he slowly set his flint down and raised his paws up to shoulder height so it wouldn't look like he was reaching for anything. On the whole he doubted it would help him if the hare decided he was a enemy, but he had to at least try. Besides, his halberd was closer to the hare than it was him and the other hares could be anywhere or with any weapon.

"Seig Averi, currently traveling blade, heading in no particular direction, Sir."