[J] A Little Patch of Wilderness (Fen's Journal)

[fenshae]

Tristan's RP Contest Entry
------------Nature
What is their personality like? Still quite young and naive; over-confident in his abilities; has a somewhat grey morality regarding commerce and such. In short, Tristan's the kind of guy who would never hurt anyone physically in cold blood, but doesn't see anything wrong with scamming them for a buck. He considers this sound business sense, and doesn't really hold it against anyone else either. Tristan is more of a smooth-talker than a fighter and would try and weasel his way out of a battle by any way possible rather than actually fight -- but if pressed, he does have a few tricks up his sleeve.
What is their hobby? Magic. Specifically parlor tricks, stage magic, sleight of hand. He'll perform a simple trick or two for a child, but he'll go all-out for a paying audience. He loves doing these tricks even though he's perfectly capable of performing *real* magic as well.
What do they do for a living? Being rather young, Tristan is just finding his way in the world -- up til now, his parents have taken care of him. He wants to find a way to make a career out of his stage magic, but in the meantime he also spends a lot of time along the river, collecting various bits of debris or human trash that wash up on the bank, and trading these in Mossflower. To fetch a higher price for his goods, he'll often claim that they (especially if human in origin) have special magical properties, and will go so far as to do a trick (or occasionally even use real magic) to "prove" that. If a customer complains that the product isn't working as designed, Tristan will simply explain that clearly the customer is not worthy of the product and that there are no refunds. In other words, he's a budding charlatan.
------------Prompt
Pick one of the following prompts and write a short story as a responce. (Suggested minimum 500 words)

3. A festival is happening in Mossflower and you've been slashing out the days on your calendar in anticipation! Your bags are packed for the hike and you've a mental itinerary of all the dances and activities you plan to experience. Better yet, this year you have a special someone to bring with you! Recount a part of this year's trip that made it even more spectacular than the last.

Tristan Swiftpaw was ecstatic. Today he'd be making his very first journey up to Mossflower all by himself! Well, not precisely by himself, as Millie would be coming with him (Millie was a pretty young thing that had grown up in a hole very close to Tristan's on the riverbed, and who was pretty much assumed by everyone to be Tristan's future wife, although he wasn't really so keen on the idea to tell the truth), but close enough. Importantly, anyway, this would be the first trip he'd made to Mossflower without his parents, which meant he was, officially and inarguably, now a Grown Mouse.

Granted, he had to take some of his father's items with him to sell at market, so the journey wasn't entirely for pleasure. But! Once that pesky bit of business was out of the way, Tristan would be free for the festival. Maybe he could even catch the eye of a nice girl-mouse, and....well, no, that probably wouldn't work, not with Millie breathing down his neck and begging for a dance at every opportunity! Bah.

"Tristan, Millie."
"Hey, ol' Jasper. How's business?" Tristan grinned up at the otter who ran the ferry that crossed the river between Fleuve and Woodhaven. Sure, he could have walked up the bank on the Fleuve side and crossed nearer to the Great Tree, but his father had a business partner in Woodhaven -- and if Tristan could stop off there and unload his goods without needing to haul them all the way up to Mossflower, then that would give him even more time to enjoy the festivities!

Tristan loaded up his goods onto the ferry, helped Millie on-board, and spent the trip over showing off his newest trick: a cups-and-balls game featuring three hollow acorn shells and three juniper berries, which he would stack and move about and cause to disappear, much to the delight of Millie (who had seen this trick at least a dozen times) and the amusement of Jasper (who didn't care a whit for magic but who put up with Tristan's antics because Mr. Swiftpaw was an honorable, good mouse whose business partner in Woodhaven kept most of the ferry-business alive).

When they arrived in Woodhaven, Tristan made swift work of trading off the merchandise -- fetching a lower price, perhaps, than he should have settled for, but he was in a rush -- and then made his way back to the riverside to continue the journey north. He was welcome enough in Woodhaven, of course, but all the tree cover made him exceedingly nervous. He always felt like he was lost without the river nearby to point him in the right direction.

"Hey now...what's this?"

He stopped at the river's edge and looked around, curious if anyone else saw what he did. Millie was busy being oblivious -- she was busy trying to fashion a hat from a dandelion -- and they were otherwise alone. All the better! Shrewd attentions focused on the half-buried detritus that had just caught his eye, Tristan scurried up to the soft mud of the riverbank, and -- with quite a bit of tugging -- managed to extract....what, precisely?

It was metallic, and sharp -- so sharp that he nicked his paw on the edges -- round in shape with a flat bottom and a scalloped sharp lip. It was just slightly dented, and a lovely dark red in color. He sniffed it, and it had a rather rank alcoholic smell, like long-stale ale, and he shrugged, and tucked the disk under his arm, took Millie's hand in his other paw, and proceeded the rest of the way to Mossflower.

The festival was everything it had been last year, perhaps even better. He bought two acorn-flour cakes for himself and Millie, and they both drank a fair amount of dandelion wine, and they danced awkwardly and a bit drunkenly to the music played by the minstrels, and then back to the tavern for a bit more drinking than was generally done in Mossflower...but, then, it was a time of festival!

So when a stranger -- a dark-furred ferret with a cowl that obscured his eyes and draped over his shoulders -- approached Tristan, the mouse was in higher spirits than normal. "What's this you carry?" He asked, gesturing to the scalloped-edged disc that Tristan had dutifully hauled all over with him.

"This?" Tristan asked, and almost admitted he had no idea, and that he'd just found it and thought it looked interesting -- but then realized that the stranger looked quite wealthy and could, perhaps, benefit from some assistance in a battle, and so he grinned a devious grin and ran a paw through his whiskers. "Why, fine sir," he said, with minimal slurring, "This is an artifact of ancient times, the legendary shield of," he paused for just a beat and managed to play it for dramatic effect, "RagePaw The Warrior!"

"Never heard of 'im."

"Never heard of...oh, good sir, this is blasphemous!" He may well have been red in the cheeks with the wine, but Tristan was a showmouse through-and-through, and he knew how to tell a lie when necessary. What good magician didn't? "Have you never heard of the battle of Big Water? Of the Plague of A Thousand Hawks?" He gave the ferret a reproachful look that was only minorly marred by his hiccup. "This shield, sir, THIS very shield, saved RagePaw from certain death countless times! SURELY you must have heard...."

The ferret still looked dubious, but was shifting uncomfortably.

To his aid, a very drunk hedgehog raised his acorn of mead. "Aw, yeah, RagePaw's shield. yessir." And then he laid his head on the table and began to snore.

"And you look to be in need of some protection, if I do say so myself," Tristan pressed, barely knowing what he was saying now except that it was too late to back out of the act now. "A fine traveler like yourself, I'm sure you've met with many a rowdy opponent on the street....an article like this...why, I daresay this is PRECISELY what you need."

The ferret grumbled assent. There were so many eyes on him now that it was a bit late to back out of the trade.

Tristan would awaken much later in a comfortable bed with a certain cream-colored mousemaid, with very little recollection of just how the rest of his night had gone. He was, however, short one metal-disk/RagePaw (who in the world was RagePaw?) shield, and significantly richer. He also had a tremendous headache.

When he got home at the end of the festival, he dutifully gave his father his profit from the merchandise -- but didn't bother to mention his own bountiful gain. No...he had a new job prospect to invest in. But first, he had to make a trip down to the river....  

[fenshae]

Choose Your Own Adventure Event 2/5/10

CYOA

You're sitting at home (describe your house a little please in your post) and suddenly you hear a noise outside. It sounds kind of like a scraping noise, and you're not quite sure what's making it.

Do you::

1. Go outside to see what it is?
2. Stay in your chair and call out to whatever it is?

Tristan was not having a good go of things.

He was a smart young mouse, and an enterprising one to boot -- but domestic matters had never held much importance to him until recently. He had a mother, after all, and several sisters, and they all kept things neat and tidy and well-maintained so he'd never had to think about such base notions of home development.

Until, that is, he'd set out on his own to find his fortune on the banks of the river, and discovered very quickly that he knew next to nothing about house-building.

He knew, of course, that his own childhood home -- and most of the others besides -- were raised upon stilts, but it had never entirely occurred to him why. An aesthetic choice, perhaps, a trend...it had never fully gotten into his mind that perhaps there was a very good reason for the houses along the bank to be up away from the water.

So he had made the mistake of building his own home in the ground, where every mouse instinctively seeks to nest, and discovered very quickly that it was hardly comfortable.

At that precise moment, the little white mouse was sitting on a pile of leaves in the corner of a dank little mouse-hole, his cloak wrapped around him, his arms holding his knees to his chest, and he shivered a bit. Moisture seeped in through the walls, and a leak above his head dripped steadily next to his bed.

Pride had kept him from seeking aid at a reasonable time, and now that he was completely convinced of what a poor home he'd made for himself his poor bruised ego was incapable of suffering any further degradation. He'd gotten himself into this and he'd get himself right back out, just as soon as he figured out how to make a house on his own...

The sound from outside made him sit bolt upright, allowing his cape to fall back around his shoulders. He set down the seed he'd been absently playing with -- he'd been practicing a new palming technique to conceal it, for a trick he'd been in the process of perfecting -- and rose to his paws. The ground squished a bit beneath them. Oh, sweet meadows the entire house was going to cave in at this rate....but never mind that. There was someone outside.

Someone who might recognize him and realize what a miserable mess he'd made of his home!

Suddenly panicked, Tristan Swiftpaw scrambled for the door. Perhaps if he was lucky he could make his way outside and back around to confront the interloper and guide them away from his house! At least then he could pretend he'd just happened upon them, and maybe save his dignity. Elsewise what would he do once they found his door or -- horror of horrors -- the whole structure fell in upon itself right before them? He shuddered at the thought.

Quiet as -- daresay -- a mouse, the little magician crept out of his door and made his way stealthily outside.

CYOA

Go outside to confront the scratcher

So you decide to get up and go meet the noisemaker head on! It's a brave move really, or at least it would be if it had been something more threatening than a bug. Well done, you were scared/put on guard by a sweet kind little Lady bug. You're so brave. The bug looks up at you with giant puppybug eyes and whimpers slightly, saying 'Lost' in a pittiful little ladybug voice.

Do you::

1. Take the creature with the Puppybug eyes in search of it's home?
2. Decide to keep the bug and invite it into your house for dinner (not to eat you creep)

Tristan made his way toward the sound -- which was much louder, now he was above-ground, and also sounded far more skittery and much less mousey -- and tried to look nonchalant. Oh, what's that? Was he just wandering freely along the riverbank, sightseeing in this area that of course he didn't live in, when he just so happened to find a....

....wait.

He stopped, blinked, and stared down at the ladybug. He blinked again, his ears flattening back to his head. Cautiously, he peered around, verifying that the ladybug was, in fact, the only person nearby. Once satisfied that they were alone together, the white mouse kneeled down, peering curiously at the creature.

"Well, hello little one," he said, reaching out a hand for its antennae to feel. "Lost, are you? Hm."

A lost little ladybug. How thoroughly interesting. How potentially useful. Never know when you might be able to use a ladybug -- specifically a talking ladybug. Immediately, Tristan's thoughts were buzzing with possibilities. He could teach her new words, perhaps, with time. Talking ladybug could fetch a mighty fine price at market....or help him to sell his best tricks.

Oh, my! What a fortune to fall upon! Tristan's eyes were alight with an enterprising gleam, a dozen schemes already rolling through his thoughts.

"Can't be having you lost out in the cold," he said, breezily, despite the weather being rather warm really. "Come along, then, into the house you go and we'll get you some dinner and a nice warm bed." What did ladybugs eat? What did they sleep in? Oh, did it matter? Anything to get it to follow him home!

CYOA

Feed the Bug some dinner

So you decide to be a nice beast and feed the bug some dinner... after all it's dark and walking around outside just seems like a whole lot of work. Bugs can't eat that much right? Well this bug can. He eats all his dinner and part of yours before you can stop him. Soon after that you try to send him to bed, but he's so hyper that you can't get him to sit still... in fact, he's doing somersaults... somersaults and backflips and handstands and he's walking up the walls... really he's quite the little acrobat. You watch for a little while, upset for a moment when he sends your ________ crashing to the floor, but it suddenly occurs to you that he could be useful to you after all...

Do you::

1. Start drawing posters for your impromptu LadyBug circus, kids get in free with ten adult tickets!
2. Fit him with a cute little LadyBug backpack and send him climbing up to the high branches where the REALLY ripe berries grow. People pay a bundle for those, and they're good for healing.

"Right, then, Master Bug," Tristan said, smoothly, beckoning to the ladybug with a paw. His other paw swept thoughtfully through his whiskers and his ears laid back contemplatively to his head. "...it's alright if I call you Master Bug? You don't have a name you'd rather be going by, is there?"

He waited for a response, and then shrugged. "Well enough. Come along, then, it's getting late and I'm getting a bit hungry, and I'm quite sure you're famished."

He led the way back to his mouse-hole and busied himself with laying out a dinner for two onto the rough piece of bark he'd fashioned into a little table. He wasn't much of a cook, to be honest, and the dampness had crept into the bread and left it a little soggy, and the salad he'd made of dandelion greens was a little wilted, and the berrywine he'd been saving all this time from his trip to Mossflower was gone a bit sour...but, well, it was dinner, and a little bug could hardly complain about -- "OY!" Tristan turned, wide-eyed, to see the bug atop the table, voraciously gobbling down everything.

Before he could say anything, the bug fluttered up off the table, bounced into the wall, and began gobbling up the rest of the food Tristan had stockpiled in his damp little corner basket.

The night went downhill from there.

Within an hour, the house was in shambles. Not that it was in particularly good shape to begin with, but it was worse now. Tristan could merely sit on his slightly-soggy bed, head in hands, and watch in horror as the bug -- filled with entirely too much energy, a supernatural amount of it in fact -- bounced, skittered, jumped, clawed, flapped, and otherwise fluttered around the single-room structure.

All around, chaos. The table was overturned. The basket of food was tipped over and bits of leftover vittles were scattered over the floor. And, constantly, a shower of mud rained down from above and the whole structure threatened to collapse entirely.

And Tristan, poor little Tristan, was completely at his wits' end. He could talk his way out of anything! But, sadly, talking didn't do much to convince a bug to stop.

His brow furrowed, then, gears slowly working in his mind. Wait a moment....what if he could figure out precisely what it was that could tame the little beast?

....After all...imagine a wild creature, a bucking behemoth of a ladybug, found its way into a home wherein it wasn't welcome...and began wreaking havoc upon the contents therein....well, the owner of such a home would be keenly interested in getting rid of the aforementioned creature, now wouldn't it? And they would likely pay a handsome reward indeed to be rid of the troublesome beast....and not to mention if it had any other hidden talents...

Oh, my!

Cogs spinning rapidly in his mind, Tristan laughed aloud and, temporarily oblivious to his slowly-crumbling home, he jumped to his feet. He'd just have to figure out the bug's weakness! How hard could it be?

"Oy! Bug!" Tristan called, his voice suddenly substantially more enthusiastic than it had been a moment ago. The bug, perhaps a bit startled by the sudden change in his demeanor, froze in place and looked at him with deceptively soulful eyes. "Sit still, will ya? I need a good look at you.." and, muttering to himself, he set about pawing through his damp, dirt-smeared posessions, looking for something to draw upon.

Every service needs advertisement, after all, and a grand scheme was already unfolding in his mind...

CYOA

BUG CIRCUS!!!!

Ahh, Bug circus. You've wanted one all your life and now's your chance! You'll call him Clancy (Or something else, your choice) and he'll be your one and only, and the two of you will peddle your services on the path corners. Perhaps he can even learn to play the accordion? Oh the plans are endless, and you can't help it! You're excited! You start drawing up posters for the big event... oh.. you could call it the 'Big Tent Event!' if only you knew where to get enough material to make a big tent. The main attraction will be CLANCY (or your choice) the ___________ riding/roping/playing/yougetmydrift BUG!...

Do you::

1. Charge a bug sized arm and a leg?
2.Charge a Badger sized arm and a leg?

"Now...what skills do you offer?" Tristan said, crossing his arms and raptly staring across the room at the bug -- who still seemed so baffled by his sudden change in demeanor that he'd quite forgotten to continue tearing apart the house. "Clearly you're a demolition's expert -- but I'm needing something more entertaining, Master Bug."

"Coo?" The bug asked, looking thoroughly confused.

"Oh, whatever. Here..." He dug around in his (now thoroughly scattered) belongings, coming up with a scrap of bark, a smidge of charcoal, and a length of twine. "It's not that I don't trust you, Master Bug....it's only that I think we need to discuss the terms of our relationship. I am the boss, now, in our little enterprise, and I'll be telling you what to do -- and in return you'll perform for me, and we'll share the king's size of profits." He grinned. "You'll be needing a proper name, though. Any suggestions?"

As he spoke, he hurriedly fashioned a bit of a harness around the ladybug with his twine, wondering in the back of his mind why he didn't think to do this earlier when the bug was destroying his house. That finished, he sat back and began drafting up his poster.

"Tristan the Magnificent," he started, drawing out the words in elaborate letters, and then paused, chewing his bottom lip in contemplation. "Presents." He glanced at the bug. "....Clancy, the..." He shot another contemplative look at the bug, who was now trussed up a bit like a hostage. "Acrobatic Wonder Bug!"

Ahh, yes, that sounded nice. Acrobatic wonder bug, indeed!

...And if this didn't work out, he could still go with his last plan of planting the bug in the house of an unsuspecting vic....customer.

"Now then. Are you ready to perform, Clancy?"

"Murr?"

"Precisely. Come on, then....let's start building a routine." He tucked his sign carefully under his arm, grabbed the bug's 'leash' and made his way out into the world, peering around for something they could use as a circus arena until they could get proper funding. Eventually he settled on the inside of a hollowed-out log that lay a ways up-stream. He clambored up into it, eyeballing the interior, verifying there was enough room for his needs. Well, if they attracted badgers and otters and the like, it might be a bit snug, but they'd just have to sit outside.

Pleased with himself (but not with the bug, who, sensing freedom, was straining at the leash) he tethered Clancy to one of the branches of the fallen log and set about fixing his sign to the log's own bark.

Before stepping away, he wrote just one more thing across the sign:

"Admission: Free.
Mandatory Donation
to be Discussed
After the Show."

CYOA

Charging Free admission to a bug circus sensation (mandatory donation kthx)

Your posters are lovely, your ringmaster's outfit is dashing, your bug is pumped... everything is ready... unfortunately you end up waiting hours and hours for an audience and all you get is a second ladybug ("CIRCUS CIRCUS CIRCUS!") two beetles ("Food?" - "Lights.... lights circus") a small mouse with big wide eyes and no money, and a batty old bat who got lost on his way in and bashed into a tree. He's still not really sure what he's waiting for at the moment, but you told him he'd enjoy it so he's here all the same. You do your show, but you really don't get much more in the end other than two acorns, a leaf and the claw clippings that the bat chewed off while he was waiting for whatever his tree bashed brain thought he was waiting for. Maybe you should have charged more? They probably didn't think that it could be real art if it was free.... but at least you have a bug?

 

[fenshae]

Valentines Day Adoption Event
(wherein Archibald is obtained)

Tristan had come to feel a certain magic surrounding Mossflower. It wasn't the enduring power of the Great Tree, or the warm feeling of peace and welcome that extended across the village. It was the feeling that, somehow, every visit to Mossflower always seemed to bring Tristan greater and greater fortune. Fate smiled upon him in this village, there was no denying it.

So he walked today with high steps and a smile upon his maw. He was looking quite dapper today, his cape freshly-washed and a new (well, new to him...in reality it was looking a bit weathered) top hat squarely upon his head. A truly handsome figure today!

At this precise moment, he was leaning outside the makeshift arena he had claimed for his "circus": a large Clancy had been fit to burst with excitement on the trip up, and a few times he nearly slipped free of his leash. "Would that the little beast were larger," Tristan thought to himself, "And then I could just ride him here in flight."

The circus was so far not drawing the impressive crowd that Tristan had hoped for, but it was alright. You have to start small and work your way up, after all, and no better way to begin than to build a name for yourself.

The real problem, Tristan thought, was that it was just too difficult to run a circus by oneself. He could so much better serve the crowd if he were inside, doing tricks between shows, announcing the bug...controlling the little monster. But, instead, he was stuck on the outside of the wall, trying to usher in guests, and it just wasn't working to his favor.

"Come inside and see! Clancy the Acrobatic Wonder! Performing feats of unimaginable bravery and skill!"

He sighed. This wasn't working at all.

Best to take a break, then. He cast a final look around, assuring himself that there were no eager masses waiting for his show to start, and then slipped inside to see how things were going in the arena.

Clancy was, at present, running straight up the wall, his sticky little feet carrying him up, up, up. Just as he reached the summit, he released the wall, doing a backwards somersault and tumbling head-over-carapace to the ground below. At the last possible death-defying moment, the ladybug spread his wings, catching the air and gliding smoothly to the ground.

The crowd gasped, squeaked, cheered.

...Well, in a manner of speaking. At present, the crowd consisted of one lonely member, a tiny young hedgehog, currently on the edge of his seat and gnawing very worriedly at his fingernails. Tristan's eyes lit up with sudden interest, and the white mouse sauntered up to him.

#

Archibald Bristleback had never precisely been brave.

Maybe it was his parent's fault, he often mused bitterly to himself as he lay bundled beneath his threadbare blanket in the orphanage. For one, they'd given him an awful name like "Archibald". For another, they'd gone and died -- first his mum, gone before he'd even had a chance to meet her, and now Pa, dead by something so stupid as a tree. Their absence in his short life another virulent reminder of how short and bittersweet life was...and how dangerous the world was.

But Archibald refused to heed the call of caution.

Such was the unfortunate duality of the little hedgehog: he was fascinated and attracted by the allure of danger...but also completely and utterly terrified of it. No...Archibald liked to watch dangerous things -- not be a part of them.

"Ahh!" He stared, wide-eyed, at the ladybug as it skittered its way up the wall, so far up that it looked more like a red-and-black speck than an insect. Oh my! He shivered and curled upon himself and gnawed at his fingernails.

He'd been sitting here, in this very uncomfortable circus-seat, for hours now. He had been drawn in by the poster, which promised both death-defying spectacles and a place to be to hide away from the rest of the orphans -- a rowdy lot, and one that tended to tease him, and Archibald hated to be teased. He wished his brother had come along, but they'd drifted apart in recent times, and Archibald had long-since decided he no longer needed a family. All they were good for was dying, anyway.

The ladybug jumped from the wall and Archie screamed and buried his face in his paws and peered out between the gaps in his fingers. His heart thudded in his chest and he nearly fell off the bench with excitement.

When Clancy finished his routine, Archibald was up on his feet clapping and howling his enthusiastic praise.

He was so wrapped up in his gleeful appreciation of the ladybug (whose act he had now see straight-through twice in a row, seeing as he'd sat through the morning and afternoon shows already) that he hardly noticed the approach of the slim white mouse, and when a slender hand touched his shoulder he bristled and rolled his shoulders and squeaked and nearly fell off the bench.

"Apologies, young sir," the white mouse said, withdrawing his hand. "I do not mean to startle you."

The hedgehog looked up at the mouse with wide eyes. He didn't say anything. His heart was still pounding too hard in his throat and he thought he might choke on it.

"I could not help but notice the appreciation you have for my circus," Tristan said, smoothly. He smiled warmly at the child. "And wanted to thank you for your patronage."

Archibald uncurled himself slightly, but he still had his arms tightly wrapped around his belly. He didn't know what all these fancy words were and it put him on edge. "I like your bug," he said, because he realized he had to say something. Then, because he had just remembered the show, he carried on a bit more excitedly, "...I really like when he does that backwards somersault! The first time I saw it I thought he was going to fall for sure! I've never seen anything like it at all!" Then, realizing he was talking too much, he squeaked and withdrew back into a ball.

The mouse sat himself down on the bench in front of Archibald, so that they were on eye-level with each other. "What's your name?"

"Archibald," the hedgehog said, a nervous flush rising in his cheeks. His quills trembled a bit.

"A noble name," Tristan said, and extended a paw with utmost seriousness. The hedgehog shook it, looking baffled. "I am Tristan Swiftpaw, ringleader of this circus, wandering merchant, and entertainer." Tristan cast his glance back down to the circus floor, where Clancy was voraciously working his way through the pile of crumbs Tristan had tossed out for him, collected from their meager donations. "Have you any family, Master Archibald?"

"Not really. A brother." He was made uneasy by the mouse's more-refined manner, but being treated like a grownup made him feel very important. "We stay with Zephra, in the orphanage."

"A tragedy," Tristan said, solemnly. He paused a moment, and the gears in his mind were nearly audible as they spun. "Do you like it there? Among the orphans, I mean?"

He shrugged. "Some of the others tease me. And my brother doesn't like me much, anymore. But it's alright, I guess. Zephra says if we're lucky, we might get proper families again."

"A noble aspiration, indeed," Tristan said. "But...I wonder...." He glanced back down at the bug in the arena for a contemplative moment. "Tell me, Archibald, do you have dreams of a life of glory, beyond Mossflower? Of renown, and wealth, and grand adventure?"

Archibald's heart caught in his throat again and this time he wasn't even sure why. Was it excitement? He spent so much time being afraid that he hardly knew what excitement was!

"Of course you do. All young, intelligent goodbeasts dream of greatness." Tristan grinned, and rose to his paws. "I'd offer you a job, Master Hedgehog, if you would take it."

"A job?"

"Working for this very circus. You can stay with me, if you wish, and we'll travel together, just the three of us, spreading our renown far and wide. Would you like that?"

"....really?" His eyes narrowed. "No trick?"

Tristan grinned, displacing his hat from his head and setting it fondly upon Archibald's head. "None at all."

#

Details were discussed, terms agreed upon, training offered -- and soon enough, little Archie was standing outside the circus, calling out to passersby...and Tristan was inside, practicing his new ringleader routine. If things went well today, he'd make a little stop by Zephra this evening to inform her of the arrangement....and perhaps to see if the hedgehog's brother had a showman's proclivities as well.  

[fenshae]

Valentines Day Adoption Event
(wherein Tabitha is obtained)

They say that all it takes is a spark -- to ignite a fire...or illuminate a soul.

Tabitha was what one would call an "old soul". She had seen little of the world from the shelter of Zephra's orphanage, but she seemed to have an intuitive sense of it: as a place filled with dueling injustice and beauty, of great love and petty hatred. She wasn't a savant or anything...she simply had an innate understanding of the emotional truth of the world around her, and her connection to the suffering of others caused her greater pain than it should have.

The orphanage was a bad place for the young bat. Zephra's indifference cut her like a knife, bruising her delicate emotions the same as if she had been abused. And the other children...rowdy, wild things, or else untrusting hard-eyed youngbeasts...Tabitha could find no friend among them. She wanted nothing to do with their sport, their games, their silly frivolities...and in turn, they found her boring, lackluster, a spoilsport. She was the one who told on the others when they were bad, the one who refused to play along in the games of make-believe. Perhaps if she had been blessed with intelligent adult company, she could have found a friend through conversation -- she had a keen mind, receptive to ideas -- but there was no such opportunity for her. Zephra, certainly, had no patience for such chatter.

And so she lived in isolation amongst her peers, doing her chores without complaint, causing no injury to the others but never laughing or playing the way a child should.

Tabitha was out in the square, fetching fresh rolls from the baker, when something caught her sharp ears. Usually she never paid attention to the hustle and bustle of the town, but something resonated with her, and she turned to peer across the crowd to see what it was.

The speaker was a mole. Not anything particularly interesting, really: a large-bellied, aging creature with thick grey whiskers and a pair of spectacles perched upon his wrinkled nose. He had a book in one hand, its pages yellowed and covers well-worn, and he stood upon a weathered soapbox where countless others had stood before.

"In the shadow of the Great Tree, we are all equal," he said, and the words sent a thrill down Tabitha's spine. She couldn't say why it affected her so much...but she could feel it, in the tingling of her skin, the way her heart thudded with sudden excitement. Perhaps it was the way he spoke, the smooth rumble of his voice, strong and fatherly and trustworthy. Tabitha had never heard anyone speak that way before in her life, and it appealed to some deep-seated, basic instinct in her, fit into a hole in her heart like the missing piece of a puzzle. It was a voice like a father might have, if she'd ever been lucky enough to have a father.

Or, perhaps it appealed to her so much because the mole seemed to promise something Tabitha had only dreamt of in the depth of her heart: that somewhere, she would be respected for who she was, held in the same esteem as any other creature...old or young, with family or without....the idea of true, genuine equality spoke to her, and she liked what it said.

"You do not need to deserve the Blessings of the Great Tree," the mole continued, in that smooth paternal voice, and Tabitha found herself walking closer without meaning to, her wings dragging behind her slightly as she shuffled forward, large ears perked forward to catch and savor every word. "For they are already yours. You must only accept them into your heart, and allow the Blessing to fill you, to light your path -- and you will be saved from all worldly suffering."

The mole preached of salvation and gifts, of safety and happiness, of living a worthy life, of tending to the Great Tree. Tabitha listened intently, that day and every day after, until the mole had felt his work to be done and left to preach to another clan. Every word was like a revelation, as though someone had turned a light on inside of her own heart and enabled her to peer inside herself, and when she came out to the square and found the soapbox empty something inside of her ached.

If the other children had found her boring or annoying before, she was unbearable now. Not a day would pass without her trying to pass her knowledge off on her peers, to share with them the things that were so important to her now. Her enthusiasm was not returned.

But it didn't bother her anymore that the others didn't like her, as she didn't need them anymore. She knew where she belonged, and her resolve strengthened with the realization. Each day she made plans, carefully considering her future, and when the time was right, she slipped away in the night.

She didn't pack. What possessions did she have? None. And she needed none. She would live on the blessings of the tree, like the mole had taught. She would take up her home on the plains of Sunhedge (a place she had never seen, but trusted herself to find if she followed her heart) and build a home amongst the other devouts...and there, finally, she would find her place in the world.  

[fenshae]

St. Patrick's Day Event
(wherein a bunch of woodland mammals become totally shnockered)


Tristan just barely made it into the seat, dragging his hedgehog apprentice behind him, in time for the bell to sound. He reached out for the glass, knocked it back in one easy swig (his whiskers trembled just a little) and looked around, self-satisfied. Oh yeah. He totally had this in the bag.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, boss?" Archie said in a little squeak, sitting down beside Tristan. He politely folded his paws on the table and looked politely interested in the goings-on -- until Tristan gave him an evil-eye that insisted that he'd better drink his glass too and double their chances at winning. Oh, fine. Archie closed his eyes, braced himself, and took his drink in a swig. It burned his throat and he gagged, but managed to keep it down with a minimum of eye-watering. This wasn't so bad.

Tabitha's nose wrinkled. Oh, everybody was making such a big deal out of this! Ridiculous. As though this were anything to celebrate. She bet it wasn't anything special, anyway. Out of spite, she raised her glass and defiantly drank it. She nearly spit it all back out. Oh my tree that was really awful. Why was she doing this again?


Tristan was a young mouse, but he had many fine seasons of drinking under his belt. After all, what was a trip to Mossflower without a stop at the inn? So he took his second drink with a calm expression, glancing around the area with a defiant, challenging sort of look in his eye. Oh yeah, he totally had this in the bag. And just think how much he could potentially trade that ale for! He grinned and eagerly awaited his next round, feeling pretty confident. "How you holding up, Archie?" He asked, good-naturedly.

Archibald muttered a 'good, thanks' as he glowered down at his drink. Bracing himself, he took another shot, and again felt it burn through his throat like acid. Ugh. His ears were ringing and it felt a little bit like everything in the world was becoming further away. But he was still standing (er, sitting) which was more than he could say for some others, so good on him!

"Hmph." Tabitha sniffed, and shot a guilty glance around herself at all the others. Secretively, she took another drink. Oh, it was terrible. But it also made her wingtips tingle a little. And everything seemed to start glowing, just a little, at the edges. That was kind of nice. And she felt warm inside, which was kind of nice, too. Maybe this wasn't so-so bad....not that she was enjoying it, not at all.

Tristan, looking quite smug, took his final shot. It took a moment for it to trickle down his gullet and hit his stomach, and for just a brief moment he looked very proud of himself indeed.

Then the alcohol sunk in and he promptly keeled over.

"Oh, boss..." Archie sighed and patted Tristan's ears. Well, somebody had to go on and win this, he supposed. Swallowing hard, bracing himself, he reached out a paw for the glass and drank it as quickly as he could muster. His vision swam, and he reeled a little...but hey, he was still feeling pretty good. And feeling especially good because he'd managed to beat Tristan at something! Oh ho ho!

Tabitha hiccuped, then giggled demurely and took her shot. She didn't notice the burn nearly so bad this time. In fact, she didn't notice much of anything, except for a general happy buzzing warm feeling, and how everybody suddenly seemed so nice. Over there, that hedgehog with a mouse in his lap...he looked nice. She waved a wing-talon at him and grinned dopily.


Archie meet the bat's eyes across the way and he grinned, a little shyly. "Bottomshup!" he said, blearily, and knocked back his drink. Oh this was not a good idea at all. He wavered a little on his rump and keeled over, falling off his bench, rolling up into a defensive little ball. Tristan slid down on top of him and the two began to snore.

Tabitha laughed at them as she took her drink. Oh, what silly little boys. This wasn't so bad! Everybody was making such a fuss out of....oh my. She blinked, realized she couldn't tell if her eyes were opened or closed, and felt herself crumple down on the ground even as she was trying to figure out what was going on.

------------------------------------
(with Kamileunaire)


Tabitha roused herself sometime later, looking quite drowsy. Her head hurt and her ears were numb and her wings ached. UGH. What WAS that? And why did it feel like she'd swallowed sand? And why did it feel like something was floating in her stomach? And why did she keel over every time she stood up?

The devil's liquid, that's what it was!

Oh my...she needed to repent. She half-crawled away, not trusting herself to fly, and curled up under a bush, glaring at the world.

Tristan, miraculously, felt pretty good. Indeed, the little mouse prided himself on rarely getting hangovers, or at least ones that didn't last very long. "Did we win?" He asked Archie, hopefully.

"No, Boss." Archie said, sitting upright and rubbing his head. The light was too bright, even though it was nighttime.

"Damn." Tristan sighed. "Well, my friend, nothing for it. Looks like another round is starting up. Come now, let's give it a good second try!" He slapped his employee heartily on the back, yelped in pain as the spines jabbed his paw, and weaved his way back toward the stage, stepping over the prostrate forms of those still passed out.

Archie sighed and wandered after him. If there was one thing he'd learned about Tristan, it was that resistance was always futile. He looked around, to see who else was dumb enough to continue this ridiculous contest.

Zander found himself in a small grassy area when he started to wake up. He spat out the cork that had been jammed into his mouth, and stashed it away in his hat with the others. "Nnngh..." he rubbed his head. He'd been so close...so very close. But that last shot had done him in, and he hadn't come away with the two-weeks-chores-free prize. He looked over at Lirian, who was sitting nearby. "I was so close, Lir. So cloooose." he whined, dragging his paws down his face.

"I know kid. You beat me, that's for sure. I think another round is starting up though. Shall we give it one last try?" he said with a tired smirk, eyes half lidded. "That ale's real good. Worth the trouble, for sure!" he said, and yawned, wobbling as he rose to his feet. He hadn't even been able to get any during the years he'd spent out in Breezemoor. How he had missed it.

"Yeah, you said so before. Ugh...I...I guess one more try wouldn't hurt." Zander said, smacking his lips. He was sure he was gonna taste that pureleaf for weeks. Struggling to his feet, he caught sight of someone very familiar. Hey, he knew that kid! He took off in an awkward gait, all messed up from the booze, but grinning all the same.

"ARCHIE, HEY ARCHIE!" he called out, almost tripping a few times as he scampered over to catch up. "Long time no see!" he added, laughing. He hadn't seen many of the kids he'd known from the orphanage. He hoped the hedgehog would remember, otherwise he might be mistaken for a crazy drunken ferret kid...and no one wanted that.

Lir chuckled, and ambled after the youngster, being careful not to fall over.

Archie jerked at the sound of his name, and blinked blearily at the ferret that bounded toward him. "Oh...OH HEY!" He smiled, puffing up rather proudly -- he always liked to look very proud of himself whenever he ran into a fellow orphan, because he was doing so much better than he had been at the time. "You got adopted, too?" He looked over at Lirian, and took a moment to be surprised; he didn't really know any grown-up hedgehogs anymore, and he'd almost forgotten from hanging out with Tristan just how big they were. "I ran off and joined a circus."

Tristan glanced at the young ferret, amused, then over to the older hedgehog. "It would seem we meet again," he said, nodding to the hedgehog, remembering that he had been in his audience at Clancy's last act. "Another round is starting. Care to a friendly wager?" His eyes glimmered with excitement. "Last one down gets to keep the round of corks?"

He knew that collector's items could sometimes fetch a price. And he could never resist the opportunity for a bit of gambling.

Zander laughed as he jumed around Archie a little, obviously happy to see a familiar face, and maybe a bit loony from the drink as well. "WOW!? A circus?? Archie that's the coolest thing ever! I ran off down the river and crashed during a storm!" he said, waving his little arms as he gesticulated wildly.

Lirian finally recognized the two when he drew closer, Tristan more than anything. "Oh! It's you!" he said, sounding surprised, and hiccuping a little as he listened. "Hah! Now there's a way to make it interesting! I'm in!" he grinned over at the ringleader mouse. Nothing like a friendly bet to spice things up!

Zander pursed his lips as he looked over at the white mouse who Lirian seemed to know. "I'll pass on the betting, but I'm still gonna try! How about you, Archie?" he asked, looking back to the younger hedgehog.

"Oh no. No betting for me," Archie said, shaking his head. "I'm probably only gonna last one drink, anyway. But -- hey! I think they're starting."

Hurriedly, the hedgehog ran for a seat and wrapped his paws around a glass, watching for the Milligan to say the word. At the decree for 'bottoms up' he knocked back his drink, and was pleasantly surprised at how smoothly it went down. Maybe it was just that he was so eager to show off for his boss and old friend, but it almost tasted....delicious. mmm.


"Deal!" Tristan shook the other's paw and followed Archie to his seat, pulling his drink close to him. The last round was just a warm-up!

He knocked back his drink, licking his whiskers as he shot Lirian a good-natured wink.

Zander followed Archie and took a seat next to him this time, while Lir sat over next to Tristan. Both of them grabbed up their cups as they were passed out, and downed the liquid without much trouble. Lirian grinned over at the mouse. "Hope you can hold your drink." he taunted playfully.

Zander sputtered after downing the shot, as usual, panting softly. Pure leaf was so GROSS.


"Just you worry about your own self," Tristan said, confidently. He grinned and took another drink in a long swallow.

He blinked as it hit his stomach, clenching up like molten lead. Aw, hell. Not only could he hardly hold his liquor -- twice! -- but now he'd also lost a b...b...zzzzzzzz.

Archibald smiled sheepishly, apologetically, for his boss, and then took a drink. This wasn't quite so delicious, but it wasn't terrible. "...Poor Tristan," he said, shaking his head as he set down his glass. "He talks a good game, but...well. He's a mouse." He shrugged and grinned at Zander, feeling pretty good about himself.


Lirian snorted a laugh as he watched the poor guy sink down. "Aah, goodness. That was easier than I thought it was gonna be. He sure is confident, I'll give him that." Lirian said, and downed his second shot, which seemed to hit him a little harder than it had before. He coughed, and pounded his chest a couple times, snuffling as his eyes watered.

"Haha! We beat him. Coulda won a bet, but oh well." Zander snickered tipsily as he just slammed down his second shot, his ears pinning back a little as that gross feeling began to settle into his stomach again. This stuff was rotten.

"Not if you were bettin' against me," Archie said, boldly, and took down another shot. Was it like this the first time? He remembered it tasting a lot worse. Oh, it was bad, don't get him wrong. But it wasn't THAT bad anymore. He could only imagine how good this fabled ale must be.

He grinned at Zander, then looked up at Lirian. He liked them both, he decided. A lot. He wasn't sure if it was the drink, or just a general fondness for them. But, after all, Lirian had given him his favorite new toy (oh who was he kidding, his only toy) at the circus, and Zander had always been nice enough to him, and mmm everything was warm and fuzzy around the edges.

Zander giggled at his friend, and was about to finish his third, shot, but when he brang the drink up to his mouth, something in him snapped, and he could feel his stomach curdling at the very smell of it. "Fff...y-yeah...ngh..." he tried to retort, but instead the little ferret clunked down against the table, out cold.

Lirian snickered. Silly kids couldn't hold their drink. He'd seen some pretty funny sights over the past couple days. Thank goodness this stuff wasn't available year round. "Looks like it's just you and me now, kid." Lirian said to Archie, raising his glass before downing the gross green goop. He hated the taste, but unlike Zander, the effects it had on him were quite nice, and already he was basking in his lightheadedness.

Archibald giggled. "Silly ferre' can' 'old 'is likker," he said, and then giggled again. He wobbled a little on his seat. This was the best stuff ever. He took another drink and hiccuped, blinking black the tears that welled up in his eyes. This was soo good, and yet sooo bad.

"There's two of yhou," he said, thickly, pointing at Lirian. "Bottomsh up."

Lirian grinned, snickered, and rubbed the poor little ferret's back. "Yeah, he's been tryin' all day, too." Lirian laughed, made a goofy face as he picked up his fourth shot. "Well, I hope that gives me twice the chance to win." he said, and downed the drink. Oof. It was horrid, and he hiccuped loudly.

"Heh heh. heh." Archie's face hurt from grinning. "youshofunny, misser Liryan."

He took another drink, gave a full-body shudder. Oh god. Where was that great stuff he'd been drinking this whole time, and who had replaced it with......vile poison?

uuuuuuuugh.

He keeled over, sprawling across Tristan and Zander both, and landed head-first in Lirian's lap.

"Pffhaha. You're a cute lil' guy. All you kids. Adorable." Lirian snort-laughed as the poor little hedgie-boy collapsed over everyone, and patted his little quilled head. "It'll be okay." he said in a drunken lilt. Little did he know, he was soon to follow.

The fifth shot rendered him dead-drunk, and he murred as he thunked down onto the table, using his arms as pillows. Goodnight world.  

[fenshae]

Zephra walked confidently into Mossflower Common (after carefully having avoided Bale and his stage) with two little orange and white mice girls in tow... The girls were only 4 seasons old, but they were already quite astute when it came to looking over their surroundings, and they were both being very quiet as they followed the female rabbit.

Zephra stopped at what she assumed was the entrance to the circus, and addressed the first creature she saw there... "Hello. I need to speak with Tristan somethingorother. I've already forgotten the rest if there was any... It's a matter of his girls here, you see, I'm told that their mother was eaten by... something... anyway, that's not the point. The point is their grandfather paid me to make sure that they make it to their father because, and I quote, I'm too old and tired to be chasing mouse girlies around my house. Their Pap should be watching them. And so I'm here, and they're here, and I need to talk to Tristan whatever his name is so I can go back to my orphanage.



As it so happened, Archibald was at the front door -- as he generally always was -- and he cringed away from Zephra. It had been far too recent that he'd found his "freedom" and he was irrationally terrified (as he was of most things) that somehow his job would be terminated and he'd be back at the orphanage.

But, that wasn't why the rabbit approached him, and he blinked at her, then down at the mice -- substantially younger than he was, he thought -- and then blinked again and looked back quite dumbly at Zephra. "Ah...um." Blink blink.

"Er....Boss?" He called uneasily over his shoulder. "I........there's somebody here for you."

Archie was young, but he suspected that something bad was about to happen.

Tristan grumbled. "Can't you take care of it yourself?" He called, a bit irritably. He wasn't normally so short-tempered, it's just that at that precise moment Clancy seemed to have taken a bit of an attitude with him, and ladybug pincers really hurt when one's delicate mouse skin got in the way. Cursing the temperamental circus star, grumbling to himself as Archie insisted he come out, he rose to his feet, shot a dirty look at the ladybug, then walked outside.

"Archibald, I must insist that you don't --" he stopped, suddenly, seeing Zephra. His eyes dropped down to the two little girl mice. He blinked. He saw their red eyes. He swooned a little on his paws.

"Oh unholy twigs," he said, going -- if possible -- a little pale. ".....I need a drink."  

[fenshae]

Tristan sauntered up to the dig site, surveying the area shrewdly. He glanced over his shoulder, debating how much trouble he would get into if he sent one of his earthworms underground to survey the area and find the best prize. Probably more than it was worth. Maybe after he'd done his first dig....he glanced casually around again before settling down at site E and pointed for Archie. "Here. We'll dig right here."

Archie blinked. "But...I get to dig, too."

"Well, obviously. Pick the one next to it."

Archie ran a paw back through his quills. "What if I didn't want that one?"

"Then dig another one."

The hedgehog sighed. His boss sure was...bossy. Grumbling, he shuffled over to spot T and started pawing up the earth.

Cordelia came up alongside them, looking from her father to the hedgehog, then back down at the dirt. "That's dumb," she said, pointing. "Obviously, you should be digging right there."

"You think so?" Tristan asked, looking at where she was pointing at spot X.

"Duh."

"Well, you heard her, Archie -- that one, too."

Archibald muttered something not-very-nice. Then he said, "And why doesn't little miss do her own digging, eh?"

"Because it's DIRTY!" Cordelia sniffed.

"Precisely. Because it's dirty." Tristan's brows raised, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world.

Archie muttered and went back to digging.

----------

Nearby, the madame raccoon hip-swayed her way in. Ugh. Dirt. She had better things to do than wallow around in the dirt like some common mole. She glanced around, wondering if she might get some assistance in the matter, then her eyes landed on the odd group of mice and a hedgehog. Hadn't she seen them before, racing in that humiliating event? Ew.

Best not to pay them any heed. Nose held high, Lorelai walked right past them and settled down to dig as gracefully and demurely as possible at spot J

-----------

Meanwhile, Tabitha was having some issues. For one, digging with wings was pretty hard. For another, she kept being distracted by the bickering circus family next to her. She recognized them...she'd seen them around, like that time they all made such idiots of themselves drinking at that stupid contest. As if she hadn't drunk herself under the table....

Ah, well. Tree's blessings, she was a reformed bat now. So reformed, in fact, that she fully intended to bring whatever prize she found in site 4 to hungry children. Assuming that they'd let her in to their little mousehole to hear the Good Word, of course.  

[fenshae]

Archibald, cheered by his discovery of the penny, ambled back to the dig site in good spirits. It was the liquid luck. He knew it was! In truth, Archie had begun attributing everything to the little vial of luck potion, even though he'd never used it and was probably too scared to ever consider using it. Not even Tristan's grumbling could dampen his spirits as he proceeded to dig in spot 3.

Cordelia yawned sleepily. All this digging was boring, and dirty, but it had its uses. She rolled her invisibility potion around in her paws and imagined all of the things she planned to use it for. Wondering if maybe she might have good luck a second time, she glanced around and proceeded to dig in Spot K.

Tristan had shoved Archie out of the way and proceeded to dig on his own, grumbling. A gum wrapper, indeed! He deserved better than that, or he really WOULD send his worm underground! Muttering to himself, he started digging fervently in spot Q

Lorelai was rather pleased with her discovery. It was no great treasure, to be sure, but it was pretty, and a damn sight better than what the little mouse had discovered. She cast him a sidelong, smirking glance, and then returned to her work. She settled in to dig at spot M

Tabitha's initial reaction to the gum wrapper was pretty much "eeuuuuugh" but she tried not to let it discourage her. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and folded back her ears and proceeded to pray to the spirit of the great tree, asking it to guide her to her next dig spot. She felt her feet shuffle forward, and she hop-scrambled blindly until stopping -- by holy arboreal command, she was certain -- on spot S.