The Juskarak

[Varjak Juskarak Taggerung]

The hare was thin and athletic, with broad footpaws and glittering black eyes. A red bandanna was tied roughly around its neck, the symbol of the Juska Clan he was a part of. The three wavy red lines on each cheek and the blue dots running from betwixt his ears down to his nosetip. But the one thing that symbolized the training and warrior of this hare? The jagged lightning bolt tattoo on each cheek provided the fact that the hare was a Taggerung.

Varjak Barkpaw lounged against the trunk of a hardwood tree, watching through half closed eyes the activities of night in the Juskarak camp. Five rats sat around a campfire, singing a soft song that the hare was unable to hear. He watched as Lúthien Rak, chieftain of the Juskarak, emerged from his tent, dashed over to Varjak.

Lúthien was a handsome beast for his species, a cinnamon furred pine marten with sparkling ice blue eyes, and black paws, chest, and eartips. He pointed behind the hare, and Varjak half turned to see the eyes of an adder.

Leaping back, the hare held up a paw, and four arrows hissed through the air. The snake writhed in pain as the arrows wet into his eyes and open mouth, Varjak finishing the fight with a swift downward chop of one of his katana. By the look of the dead snake's stomach, it had eaten something that resembled a rat. The hare smiled.

He wondered what vermin horde was coming here.

[Rocky]

Two eyes were watching the hare. A hare that was a taggerung? It was rare to see a regular juska hare. Now, the eyes of the beast that was spying and the hare had something in common. That's when the adder appeared. Why hadn't the hare smelt it? Even the spy could smell it, but that's because he put it there. To test the hare. To see if he would fight it alone. The hare failed his little test. "Pathetic." The beast muttered. A taggerung that couldn't kill an adder alone. The beast sighed then snuck around bushes until he was parallel to Luthien.

Then, the eyes spotted more beasts. More juska. He couldn't do this alone. Luckily... He wasn't alone. The beast stood up to reveal a fox, with juska tatoos. But they symbloized his past, not his present. They symbolized something he never wanted to be again. The fox, still sloghtlyducking down so he wouldn't be seen, cupped his hands then made a bird call, similar to a robin's. Any daft person would no there aren't robiuns around these parts... Well... not anymore. Then, the crashing happened.

The fox charged through the bushes and fired an arrow at Varjak, and he already had another one shot off at Luthien by the time any juska could react. Then, more crashing.

An enormous white badger came flying through the bushes wielding a huge broadsword. A ferret fell dead, severed in half by the blow of the sword, a look of shock on the face, and a look of triumph on the badger's. Zephyr kneeled down and turned the bow horizontally, then shot an arrow through the head of a rat, standing right next to Luthien.

Then, out of nowhere, another crashing noise. Perhaps a late arrival? The fox smiled. "Never on time."

Another fox appeared, one much younger, and wearing fur. "Springheel! You're late!" The fox called, laughing all the way. The newcomer, who happened to be none other then Springheel Jakk, smiled, "Maybe you're just early, Zephyr!" He called back. "And you, Axe, weren't you fightin' by Salamawotsit?"

The badger, replied, "I left. Battle's almost over." The badger was actually none other than Axe, the albino badger.

With another swing of his sword, a rat fell dead... with no head. Zephyr fired another shot at a Juska, killing him almost instantly if not instantly. Springheel, not to be left out, was already cracking heads together. He appeared between a rat and a ferret, and he smiled and shook each one's hand, "How do ye do, sirs? Think its a nice day for a fight?" The pair was taken by surprise and one punched Springheel in the gut. "Ill take that as a no." Then, as if the blow didn't hurt, Springheel stood up straight, and cracked the ferrets head into the rats, breaking both their noses.

The three friends stood next to each other, fighting, defending each other. VArjak was Zephyr's target, and no one else would kill him except the former juska fox.

[Varjak Juskarak Taggerung]

(BTW, Lúthien is an NPC, but I'm going to be making a profile for him.)

Varjak's eyes had seen the beasts that were in the trees before they came out. As they approached and began decimating the Juskarak horde, one of the hare's katana sliced a fang off the dead snake. Picking the fang up gingerly, he tossed it through the air at Axe. Whipping out his other katana, he stood in front of Lúthien as twenty Juska archers angled their bows and shot a hail of arrows upward, dropping back as a second rank of ten shot. The air was turned black with shafts.

Varjak sneered, brandishing both katana.

'Come an' attack me then!'

The seer of the Juskarak, the old vixen Ohdrah, cast her bones across the floor of the cave, grinning when she saw the omen. Neither her, nor Lúthien Rak, nor Varjak Taggerung would die. The hordebeasts would not be so lucky, to say the least.

[Rocky]

OOC: A'ight. Ill post l8r...

[Wildrun]

((I have a villian who's been nagging me for posting time. Mind if I throw him into the stew? He's a stoat.))

[Wildrun]

The excitment wasn't over yet.

Not that Tataroo Raketail, the Stoat with Red Claws, was ever excited, though. He never felt any emotion, but for perhaps irritation when something did not go as planned (which was seldom) and slight satisfaction when everything did (which was far more recurring).

Nevertheless--he and his horde had been but a few weeks in this soft woodland area, and they'd heard plenty from the...guests they had invited into their camp. One of these guests had told him (in the fullest truth, of course) of the tribes of vermin called...what was it?...the Juska. Why a hare was among them was not important to Tataroo Raketail, as he'd surely find out soon enough.

The badger was new, though.

A sardonic light entered the black eyes. Badgers. He'd heard of them. He'd never met one before, in battle or as a friend.

Perhaps that could happen now.

Without a sound but for the billowing of his crimson cape, Tataroo the Stoat dropped down from his place of concealment in the cedar tree and strode a few lengths closer to the enemy parties.

His voice was level and cool as he adressed anyone who would hear, "I do hope I'm not interrupting anything."