Stormhold

[Sigurd]

Fribbs Prime

"And, in all do respect, chap, I don't know either of you, all that well, either, but my pop's always taught me to speak in a polite an' dignified manner, wot! That is until some rapscallion tries to gut you, wot! Then, blood 'n vinegar. And, for that, I apologize, ma'am, but I don't care for much attitude, myself, wot, especially from strangers. That's what friends are for, doncha' know! And, besides, chap, this ain't no tea-party, it's a mission, and I'm just followin' orders from my sergeant, wot! So, please, don't scold me as if'n I was a leveret out looking for honey, wot!" Prime shook his head, but he was much calmer. "But, I understand where you're coming from chap, wot!" he said, acknowledging his outburst.

The royal brat still bugged him, though. Ah, well, when life hands you lemons, you find something' else, wot! Maybe a plum tart, or onion leak. Fribbs Prime sure missed his tour at Redwall. Maybe, the squad would go back at some point. P'raps.

--

When they reached camp, Prime left the three, and went to find the younger Fribbs. "Oi, mate, let's get a session done, wot!" he called out to him, when he found him, packing up his gear. Sirius sighed, and got up, removing his weapons, and jacket, as Prime did the same. The pair were amateur boxers, and it was a good way to relieve stress, and get some training in, anyway. Pretty soon, the pair were exchanging blows.

[Grath]

It had been hours since the scout patrol returned (including the corporal’s wayward patrol.) Aidan had never asked to be saddled with these extra patrol members. In fact, they were breaking protocol by bringing their happy-go-lucky scuts up here and not actually following their designated patrol route. Unfortunately, the colour sergeant was refusing to listen to Aidan, insisting, “Oh its no trouble at all sir! No trouble! Glad to help out an officer-type, wot wot!

Aidan stopped just outside the medic’s tent, this was supposed to be a quick mission! We should have been back at the mountain by now, how do I get rid of these extra hares… he rubbed his nose tiredly. He’d better think of a way, and soon. Scout Contarelle should be meeting him here soon, the medic had assured him the medicine would wear off after a certain amount of hours, and he could expect to be able to talk to the otter then.

[Tracy]

The sun hadn't quite set yet, but heavy clouds had moved in again, making it feel later than it really was, and putting another bite of chill into the air. Their camp was damp and cold, and the low, dark, clouds made Ripley worried they were in for another rainy night. She actually hoped it would be cold enough to snow instead; it would be a bit easier to handle than the deluge they'd had the night before.

After an early dinner of stew, the scout left behind the comfort of their big campfire and headed back over to the medic's tent. They had agreed to meet up when the otter was awake and coherent enough to contribute to Ripley's debriefing. It was for the best, as the haremaid didn't have too much to tell Aidan. Not much aside from complaining about the unexpected intrusion of the corporal's patrol, anyway.

Tugging her cloak about herself as the wind picked up about their camp, Ripley hurried over to the tent, seeing Aidan already waiting for her. "Captain," she acknowledged, about as polite and respectful as she was wont to be. No salute, or standing to attention, but it was clear she recognized her position in the group, and the Captain's authority.

Her ears turned back as a gust of wind blew around them, roughly billowing her cloak against her form. Violet eyes glanced skyward with some concern. Returning her gaze to the officer, she nodded.

"Don't have too much to report, sah. I scouted west out to the coast, then north from there. I didn't notice any sign of other beasts having been in the area at all, and certainly not recently. I came across an otter after traveling north for just a few minutes, and he was pretty torn up. I saw to his major injuries rather than question him, an' he seemed to be driftin' in an' out of consciousness. Varilde showed up a bit later an' helped me with the otter... calls 'imself Rausaro."

Another gust of wind stopped her explanation as it kicked debris up around them. Nodding at the tent next to them, she slipped in, waiting for Aidan to follow her in. "Rausaro kept goin' on about vermin bein' around and he was really concerned about vermin comin' an' finding us. It's pretty clear somebeast's been beatin' up on him, though. He's escaped somewhere nearby, but I still didn't see any evidence of vermin 'twixt here an' the beach."

Her eyes shifted in the dark tent, noticing the stirring on a nearby cot. Looked like the otter had already woken up. She decided not to give any of her thoughts on the vicinity to their slave compound, deciding to leave that to the now-awake otter. "Anyhow, a few minutes later, Fribbs Prime showed up and was wholly inconsequential in my scouting." Ripley didn't even attempt to mask her annoyance.

"An' then we came back. I decided not to question Rausaro on the way back either. Was more concerned with keepin' him on his feet." And not having him blab everything in front of the other hares, and also in the slim possibility there were vermin around she wasn't aware of.

[Stryker]

“Hello there, Sir Hare!”

So it wasn't every day that a strange creature in a strange land addressed him so formally; despite the unusual circumstances, the Long Patrol hare was cordial, throwing a quick salute in case the uniform wasn't enough of a cue as to what he was.
"Hello y'self, Sir...Squirrel Thing." Southpaw flashed Onyxwing an apologetic smile, meaning no offense in trying his best to identify this funny little creature. Even though there was a considerable gap between them, the golden hare could easily tell that the squirrel-creature was quite short.

"Say, you wouldn't be able to point me in the direction of some apple trees, wouldya?" Figuring he might as well ask directions - besides, if this squirrel-character turned out to be less-than-friendly, it wasn't as if he were unprepared - Southpaw waggled his ears in curiosity, lengthening his stride to close the distance just a little.

He didn't want the chase the smaller creature away, and the Long Patrol boxing hare had no real idea what Onyxwing even was. Despite his happy-go-lucky nature, Southpaw was no fool; he was a fighter of Salamandastron, and as sharp as any hare in the garrison.

This chap's got flaps of fur under 'is arms.
Quietly studying the squirrel, Southpaw, for the life of him, couldn't figure out why Onyxwing had extra flaps of skin in the first place. For a few seconds, he had entertained the notion of this creature at one point being grotesquely overweight, then went on a diet, and the extra skin was a result of that immense physical change...

Orrr they were just supposed to be there because whatever this creature was, it needed flaps of fur. It wasn't quite a squirrel. The features were smaller, a little more delicate of bone-structure, and the tail was not as bushy as your typical squirrel's. Considering the brush was usually the pride and joy of those tree-dwellers, the tail was easily the quickest way to identify them.

This fella had a tail that was a perfectly nice tail, from what Southpaw could see of it, but it was certainly no squirrel's tail. Close but no cigar.

OOC: ^^; Short, sorry! I might add on to it later.

[Rausaro]

Outside, the activity in the camp had seemingly died down a bit. The otter laid on his cot wondering how long he had been out, and what would happen next. Clearly, these Hares were no allies of Obsidious, but why had they ignored his warnings? It wasn't like he had been a slave all of his life, and duped into believing the absolute power of a vermin lord. Only five years ago he had been a free wanderer, like these hares. He desperately hoped they would not be caught off guard.

Voices sounded outside of the tent entrance, and it wasn't long before Ripley and a new hare entered the tent. He caught a comment in regards to the bickering between the scouts that had found him, and something about him.

Seeing that he was awake, the pair moved over to Rausaro. Ripley introduced the new hare, Aiden, as her captain.

The otter, as best he could, respectfully returned the greeting. It was obvious why they were there, though, and it wasn't to check on his injuries. He cut to the chase, unsure of how seriously they would take his dire warning. "Wot d' ye what t' know?

[Sigurd]

OOC: Hey, Grath, MacCross doesn't have an accent, at least that one, and is quite moody. In fact, he's quite displeased there's an officer.

MacCross

Just as annoyed by the arrangement was Colour Sergeant MacCross, who had taken his 'happy-go-lucky scuts' up north in pursue of the slaver tracks he found down south by the dead otter. He didn't have time (or really cared enough) to send a scout back all the way to Salamandstron to report that they were switching directions so that a patrol who would have left, and not even gotten word of it would know. It was an oxymoron in itself. It made no sense, and MacCross didn't stop to think about.

He sat with his back on a rock, slowly sipping the contents of his canteen. It was almost empty, and while he didn't doubt there wouldn't be any corsair pubs on the North Coast, he did doubt that an officer would consider going in one, let alone purchasing ale and brandy from one. Knowing his type, he was probably some big ladder-climber. By the end of the month, he'd a Major.

It was funny, in a way, though. The grim, black Colour Sergeant and the Captain did have a common thought. They wanted to be rid of the other. MacCross sighed, and shook the canteen, hearing the liquid inside splashing about. He was a mean sober, and having that officer here wasn't going to help his mood in any way.

OOC: I'm pretty sure it wasn't powerplaying when i said they have a common thought, because your said things among similar lines. If it was, just tell me and I'll fix it.

[Rausaro]

At Aiden's gesture, he began his narrative, describing his journey as a slave, and more importantly, what he knew about the slave stronghold. He detailed what he had learned about Obsidious Bane from the gossip in his pen, and what he had seen with his own eyes. Despite his gruesome tale, his hosts betrayed little emotion, so he wasn't exactly sure how seriously they had taken him.

"...So, I don't know what you are planning to do now, but don't underestimate that ol' vermin's reach. Obsidious has corsairs and patrols up and down this coast. That's how they got me." He looked at Ripley. "I'll admit, I don't know exactly how far we are from the fortress right now.... But I was only out one night. I couldn't have been washed that far away."

Feeling a bit faint, the otter settled back down, and tried to evesdrop as the hares quietly stepped outside the tent. Would they believe him, or would they think he was just out of his mind?

Still, that hare, Ripley... she seemed to know something. Her comment about "you otters washing up" had piqued his interest, and he was curious if she had somehow run into any other otters.

For now, all he could hope for was a speedy recovery, and a journey to this "Salamandastron" place he had heard mentioned.