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 Posted: Mon Mar 07, 2011 1:17 pm
"Gooooin' on a fiiiishie huuunt. GONNA CATCH A BIG'UN." Baneberry's brassy young voice filled the area as he stomped along toward the river. He wasn't just singing a song, no, he was informing the world of his plans.
He could already feel the change in dirt that came from approaching the riverbed, and just there, up ahead, was another figure! Brilliant. Baneberry loved having others around to witness his TRIUMPH. A little mouselet, and one he'd seen before!
That meant she was in his clan, and that he didn't [right now] have a good excuse to beat her up [yes, her. Bane was an equal opportunity bully!]. Wrinkling his nose only a moment, he decided to be benevolent.
"MISS TOKI. I'm glad you were brave enough to meet me here, as planned, for our warrior quest! Did you bring a weapon?"
Saying this, he realized that he did not have one of his own! A quick glance was cast about, and he picked up a large nutshell.
Toki had been waiting for quite some time, and waiting was most certainly not something that held Toki's attention. When the young ferret had failed to arrive within about thirty seconds of her sitting patiently and twiddling her thumbs, the little mousemaid had given the other youngster up as eaten by an owl and gone off to entertain herself.
She'd skipped several dozen stones (many simultaneously, though those typically just sunk), battled a half dozen invisible foes, solved world hunger, and, all of ten minutes from the time she'd arrived, was folding a broad leaf into the shape of a sailboat to then send off upon the river.
Intent on her work, tongue sticking out between her pursed lips, she utterly failed to notice the ferret's arrival until he called out. Her ears perked with the sound, and she whipped around, scrambling to her feet and tossing the unfortunate little boat over her shoulder and into the rushing water. It sunk like a rock, string quartet and all.
"I allus havea weapon, Baaaneberry," she retorted in what she took for sarcasm. Her 'weapon', a small wooden morning star (i.e. a thick spiky twig) as she liked to think of it, had in fact been discarded near the water's edge when she had turned her focus to the leaf boat. Now, she casually-but-quickly retrieved it, giving the little club an enthusiastic twirl. "There're lotsa villeeans along tha river. Methinks we should warrior quest that way."
Baneberry narrowed his eyes momentarily, incensed at her sass, of course, that was all forgotten the moment she voiced her brilliant suggestion. Of course, his marvelous [in his eyes] vocabulary disintegrated in his excitement, encouraged by Toki's poor grammar.
"Down th' river t'is, then!"
More than a little impressed with her choice of weapon, Bane looked around until he found some stalks of strong river weed, using them to make a sort of strap for his skull-smasher. Or mayhaps a helmet? Yes! It worked far better that way!
The empty shell was placed on his head, and he too picked up a stick, tying more weed around his waist to make a belt to stick it in. Stomping down the riverbank with the small mouse, it was only a few seconds before he asked, demandingly, "Awrigh', then, Toki. Y'see any vicious critters 'round?"
She was better at the imagination part than he was.
Toki experienced a moment of pure, bitter jealously as Baneberry placed the nutshell helmet upon his head. A helmet! Why, he was a true soldier now! How could she remain so poorly dressed in such company? After tugging up a strand of the same strong river weed, she bound the weed about her head in what she took to be a very dashing bandana...head band...thing. Shoulders back, chin up, point her morning star towards the river--strike a pose! She was, with every fiber of her being, the hero of Fangroot. "Down tha river!" she echoed loudly, and strutted off along the water's edge.
She strutted along the riverbank, idly flipping her weapon of choice about in her paw in a semblance of fancy twirling, and glanced up to the young ferret with the question. Immediately she narrowed her eyes, surveying the area before them suspiciously and tightly gripping her would-be morning star. "I don' see any, Baneberry... buuuuut... " she lowered her voice, ears twitching suspiciously. "I think... we're being followed..."
Toki gave the news only a beat to sink in before spinning around with a high-pitched war cry and racing off across the shore. She splashed through the shallows and dove headlong at a large piece of driftwood that had lodged in the mud, thwacking it solidly with her stick. "It'sa goombalatta Baaaaaneberry! It's trying to steal your helmet!!!"
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Posted: Mon Mar 07, 2011 4:49 pm
"No goombalatta can stan'a gainst me!" she boasted, throwing back her shoulders and puffing out her chest. But steps late she deflated, powerful imagination faltering for just a moment. The goombalatta was vanquished and Baneberry had gone. What should she do now?
"Oh, I'll never decide on a song, Mabel."
"Of course not! With a voice like yours, it's a crime to limit you to one song!"
"Oh, go on!"
"A crime, Dorothy, a crime!"
"Not that he'll need to hear more than one song from me."
"Oh, no no no, Dorothy--"
"But which to wow him most? Froggy in a Bush?"
"The Sky on May Day?"
"Owl in the Larder?"
"The Sky on May Day?"
"Birdie Fetch an Acorn!"
"The Sky on May Day!"
The rapid-fire conversation between the two squawking songbirds easily captured Toki's attention and held her interest for several minutes. One day, she promised herself, she would learn to talk as fast as they.
Despite her interest in the speed of the conversation, rather than the words, Toki nonetheless gathered through her eavesdropping that there were to be auditions for a musical troupe at the Old Stone Court. Why, Toki was the most talented musician in all of the world! She could play any instrument, she could sing any song! If anyone deserved to win this audition, it was she! But before she could try out, she needed to get her paws on an instrument. Sure, she could play any and all of them, but that didn't mean that she carried every instrument imaginable around everywhere she went. Or...did she?
Her eyes settled on the spinnerbait for a long moment, and finally Toki erupted in a cackle that would have done any mad scientist proud. With a hop, skip, and a jump, she ran back towards the river.
Toki had never focused so well on a single project in her entire life. For the following several hours she worked, stopping only when the setting sun impeded her sight. Leaving her spinnerbait on the ground safely clear of the water, always within sight, Toki collected a small pile of materials from the riverbank: a few fibrous, spongey reeds; a dozen small rocks with holes bored through them by the swift river waters; a long thin twig, still green enough to bend without breaking, and a few thicker, sturdier little sticks.
The reeds were her first target. With much gnawing and tugging, she managed to peel the fibrous reed shafts into several long, thin strips. Once she had a sizable pile of these strips, she used one to tightly bind the end of the green twig to the end of the longest study stick, tying them at about a fingerlength of space from the ends of the sticks to ensure that they didn't slip free. Once this was secure, she bent the green twig about and bound the opposite ends in the same fashion, ending with a frame structured roughly in the shape of a D.
Next, a stick about half the length of the straight end of the frame was tied to each "corner" of the D-frame. The sticks were angled diagonally, between the ends of the D, with the majority of the stick outside of the frame, and just the fingerlength end inside. This took far too long to accomplish; wrapping the third stick over the binding of the other two was incredibly irritating. Toki very nearly gave up on the entire structure, but no! She had a vision and she would see it completed!
Luckily, that was the most difficult part of the entire "instrument". From there, another small stick was bound by its end to each of the diagonal sticks, positioned perpendicular to them. When Toki held the structure by the loop of the D, the straight edge on top, the two diagonals stuck up in the air, and the sticks tied to them pointed out in front of her. She was pleased.
Fleshing out the frame was relatively easy. Five thin strands from the reeds became strings inside the D, making it a rather poor excuse for a harp. Toki had a very difficult time of tightening the too-thick reed fibers on the frame, and in the end the sound they produced was more of a dull thunk than any recognizable note. It was music to Toki's ears.
The ends of three more strands were each looped through a hole in a river rock, knotted, and three more rocks were threaded onto each strand. Toki may not know music, but she could count all the way to 37. 12 was no problem. All three reed strands were then tied to one of the protruding sticks, so that they hung from the frame in a little clump. They rattled pleasantly when struck with a stick. Toki beamed.
With the frame largely complete, Toki turned her attention back to the spinnerbait. She sat upon the ground, carefully considering how she would dismantle it, chin in paw as she pondered this dilemma....for all of thirty seconds. Thoughts were ponderous, action was exciting! Hefting the spinnerbait, she raced along the riverbank to the stump where she had originally discovered the fishing lure. After searching the stump briefly, she discovered a crack in the water-hardened wood large enough for her purposes and shoved the hooked end of the lure down into it, twisting it into the wood to hold it in place. This done, she tugged and wrestled and pulled on the loop in the metal that held one of the metal spinner disks onto the lure. The wire wouldn't budge, though she did manage to twist the bend in the lure significantly straighter.
Toki frowned. This was not how it was supposed to work. She needed those shiny discs to complete the greatest instrument ever invented! She struggled with the wire for a bit longer, pulling, pushing, even hanging from it at one point, and managed to straighten the wire almost completely, but still could not get the little loops uncurled. Frustrated, she kicked the stump--which only made her angrier, because now her foot hurt. She stormed away and dropped heavily to the ground near the water's edge, where she picked up the first rock her paw fell on and chucked it into the flow. That did help. She vented her anger on the river, and had sent several more rocks splashing into the water before a poor grab rewarded her with a much heavier stone. A very thin, heavy stone. Curious, anger forgotten, she set the stone on the ground before herself to examine it.
This rock was of a very dark material, about as long as her forearm, but thin and cylindrical. It would have been very good to clobber someone over the head with, she mused, provided that someone was about her size. Climbing to her feet, she picked up the rock and gave a few hefty swings with it. Pleased with the aerodynamic capabilities of her newfound weapon (that is, the rock made a nice WOOOSH when swung), she turned her attention back to the fishing lure stuck in the stump, and proceeded to viciously attack it.
It did her absolutely no good, of course. The little stone couldn't really do any substantial damage to the metal wire. The spinner disks clashed and tinkled mockingly as she battered at them. Hahaha, they cried, the stupid mousey would never harness their awesomeness for her instrument!
"I'll show ya!" she shouted defiantly at the taunting spinnerbait. "I'munna have tha best music an' song an' yor gonna help me!" In a brilliant stroke of inspiration, she slipped the stone through the loop in the wire; the extra leverage was all she had needed. It only took one sturdy twist to open the gap in the wire a crack, and from there the spinner disk easily popped free. Elated and giggling, she quickly repeated the method on the second disk, and was equally successful there. Her anger forgotten--along with the value of the stone--, she chucked the stone away--it plopped into the river--, snatched up both spinner disks, and rank back to the frame to complete her project. Without further ado, both spinners were threaded on to a reed strand, which was hung from the remaining perpendicular stick. The spinners jingled lightly against each other as the wind caught them, and clashed like cymbals when they were struck with a stick. She was nearly done.
Finally, three reed strands were braided together and the ends were tied to one side of the D frame to make a loop large enough to fit Toki's arm; this was repeated for the other side of the frame. Toki tested the fit by sliding the frame onto her shoulders, so that it was worn on her back with the two perpendicular sticks sticking forward over her shoulders. On either side of her, a comfortable space from her head, hung the strung rocks and the spinner disks. Her creation....was complete! Giggling fit to burst, Toki scooped a small stick from the ground and tested out her invention, strumming the "harp" with her tail, and sending alternating whacks at the rocks and disks. It was wonderful, she quickly decided, but something was still missing.
Sobering, she considered this latest dilemma, peering back over her shoulder to examine every visible inch of her contraption (ie, not much) for the source. Finally, her eyes settled on the stick she held. "Sorry stick," she apologized, genuinely, as she set it down upon the ground. "Ya make pretty music, but s'norra good enuff for tha try outs." With the stick formally relieved of duty, Toki raced back to the stump, rocks and spinner disks clinking the entire way.
The mousemaid reverently approached the Lure in the Stump, setting a paw upon the end, then slowly drawing it free. Or not. It was stuck solid, hook lodged in the wood from her earlier antics. This was a much easier fix than trying to free the spinner disks, however, and with a bit of wiggling and tugging she pulled the lure free. The wire, now straight, was about as tall as she was, with a sharp, curved hook at one end. Toki quickly decided that the hook was very impressive, and, while the squid was very pretty, the hook deserved to be seen. She slid the rubber squid down the wire with little effort, and left it about midway down the wire, just above where she would grip the wire. Purple rubber squids made excellent hand guards.
With her hook-baton-drumstick in paw, and her odd, cobbled-together instrument upon her back, Toki, finally satisfied, nodded to herself and strutted off into the woodlands to practice. It was a long, long walk to the Old Stone Court. She would have plenty of time to perfect her new instrument on the way.
In fact, it took Toki approximately two days to reach the Old Stone Court. Nonetheless, she arrived confident and well-practiced, and still in time to perform for Bale. Clinking and jangling, she stepped up for her audition and, without an exceptional formality, began.
"I'munna be singin'... Well, I don' ak'shly remember the name, but I like ta call it...'Cats Are Dumb'." She paused for dramatic effect, stepped back, spread her legs to brace herself, and burst into song.
"I once hadda liddle kitty,
Or ak'shly he had me,
He bit me by tha toe an' pulled me up inna tree!
But I grabbed him by his whiskas,
An' I kicked him in tha eye,
An' he spit me out an' fell down to tha groooound!
An' my cat fell inta a pond an' he
Drowned, drowned, droooooowned!
An' my cat fell inta a pond an' he drowned!"
The mousemaid's voice may have been not half bad, had she been able to remember the actual tune to the song. As it was, she made up the melody as she went along, and her words were more shouted than sung. The "instrument" she had so painstakingly worked on was absolutely atrocious, and offered absolutely no positive benefit to the performance. Her tail strummed away at the pitchless reed strands, and, with the hooked staff, she sent alternate thwacks at the crashing spinner disks and clacking rocks. The percussion may, possibly, have actually managed some sort of recognizable beat, but rarely did that beat correctly coincide with the lyrics.
Perhaps the only redeemable feature of the performance was the Toki seemed determined to act out the lyrics as she was singing them. While each verse was fairly similar, she made it a strong point to emphasize the differences, pointing and gesturing and miming being pulled about. She had taken such great pains to remember all of the lyrics; Toki would be absolutely devastated if the listener failed to note the differences.
"I once hadda big fat kitty,
Or ak'shly he had me,
He bit me by tha ear an' lugged me up inna tree!
But I grabbed a great big stick,
An' I shoved it up his nose,
An' he spit me out an fell down to tha groooound!
An' my cat fell inta a pond an' he
Drowned, drowned, droooooowned!
An' my cat fell inta a pond an' he drowned!
I once hadda ugly kitty,
Or ak'shly he had me,
He bit me by tha tail an' dragged me up inna tree!
But I tol' him he was ugly,
An' stupid puss began ta cry,
An' he spit me out an fell down to tha groooound!
An' my cat fell inta a pond an' he
Drowned, drowned, droooooowned!
An' my cat fell inta a pond an' he drowned!
An' my cat fell inta a pond an' he
Drowned, drowned, droooooowned!
An' my cat fell inta a pond an' he drooooowned!"
She finished off the song with a spinning flourish of the hook-staff, which caught on a strand of rocks, nearly pulling herself over. Recovering, she straightened her shoulders and beamed up at the rabbit.
"So, how'd I do?"
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Posted: Mon Mar 07, 2011 4:50 pm
He held the thorn up at face level and scrutinized it, glaring at it, pinching it hard in his paw... Then with a short growl, he tucked it into the pocket of his artting overalls, and went about his merry way... which was a little limpy now, but merry all the same.
"My Mum always used to say..." He slapped a branch with his forepaw as he passed it. "She used to say, Artholomew... you kin't go walkin' in the shrubs, she used to say." He huffed and stopped to look at some berries on a bush. He seemed to decide that they were something he was interested in, because he picked about 20, tucking them into a shoulderbag made of leaves, before he continue on. "She'd say, Artholomew, you kin't go marchin' aroun' in the Rootwoods, down in the muck and mud, a'cause you're not made for it." He stopped and looked at another bush with red berries, but didn't seem to think they were right, for he walked on without picking any. "I asked her, Mum, what do you mean? I'm a mole! Aren't we moles a made for rooting in the rootwoods?" He stopped and began to address a piece of fungus on a tree. "You know what she said to me? You'll never believe it. She said, Artholomew... Arth my only son, and love of my life... you're a wonderful artist, and a genuinely good beast... you bake a scrummy pie and sing a dirty song... but Artholomew, love of my life, my only son... Artholomew... you'd not last a minute down there." He sighed and pulled a patch of the fungus off the tree, and tucked it into his bag. "She was worried that I'd die and she'd not be able to live on without me." He pursed his lips and squinted off into the distance, adjusting his oversized spectacles slightly.
"She was probably right. But I don't have to worry about that anymore."
"'Course ya don' have ta worry about it," the mousemaid loudly assured him as she strutted up to his side. Toki has never actually met the mole before; she hadn't even been talking to him moments before, or minutes past, or steps ago. But she had seen him wandering about and rambling to himself, and had quickly come to the conclusion that the most exciting way to spend her afternoon was by following this mole around. Fighting invisible foes in defense of an addled, paint-covered mole was certainly preferable to fighting invisible foes with only herself to protect. Now, she had a plot device!
The young mousemaid winked up at the mole, and gave the "morning star"--a thick, spikey twig--she held a quick spin in her paw, which meant that she just rotated her wrist a bit in something of a flourishy swoop. "Yor mum soun's lika awful smart beastie. But s'okay, Arthowlamewd, I can protectcha so ya can go back ta yor mum when yor done bein' on tha ground."
He narrowed his eyes at the mousemaid, and glared at her for a split second before continuing he trek through the woods. "No need, my Mum's dead. She died of the oldness. Went to sleep one night and never woke up again." He didn't really seem sad about it. "So I don't have to worry about getting killed as much as I used to..." He adjusted his spectacles and rounded suddenly on the mousemaid, taking her appearance and general stance in. "Though I don't have a deathwish, mind you... I just want to get the colors and get back up to my house.... ... you could... you could be my bodyguard while I get the colors if you would like, heaven knows I wouldn't be very good in a fight in any case."
Completely undaunted by the brief glare, Toki trotted along beside the mole, taking one step for each of his two. She nodded seriously along with his words, but didn't seem unduly bothered by them. "My mum's dead too," she replied matter-of-factly. "Da said she got eated by a fox. An' then Da got eated by a big ol' bird." She paused briefly in her words, giving a knowing shake of her head and pointing a finger to the sky. "Always r'member ta look up, Arthowlamewd. But I betchur mum tol' ya that b'fore she got old."
The invitation, or permission, for her to tag along pulled a bright grin to the mousemaid's face. Her first real job! Not that she would ever, ever tell the mole that, of course. Besides, she'd fought enough imaginary villains that the real ones should be no problem. "Sure thin', Mista Arthowlamewd. I'ma real good bodyguard. You getchur colors, I'll make sure no bad'uns getcha." She paused, then frowned slightly and scratched at an ear. "Whadaya need colors for, anyhow?"
"Painting" he turned and skimmed over the leaves they were passing. "I take things that are made of good colors, and I mash them up in a bowl so that I can draw pictures of other things with them." He stopped walking suddenly without warning and fished around in his leafbag for a moment. After several concentrated wags of his tongue, he pulled out one of the red berries he had plucked earlier.
"See this berry?" He held it out to her "It's made of red. if you take this and squish it, then it will make whatever it's touching when it's squiched all red. It's almost paint already, really. Say you wanted warpaint on your face, you could just pop this berry in your hand, and rub it on your face where you'd want the paint to show, and then you'd have red lines wherever you drew them until you took a bath." He nodded.
"But I don't go much for warpaint, mostly I just use the red to draw the sun and stuff." He couldn't really think of many red things in the forest that weren't blood... and he didn't really go in for painting that kind of thing.
Painting sounded unbelievably dull. At least, it did initially. Mashing up berries to draw pictures on other berries. Or leaves. Or sticks. How boring, how mindless, how immobile, how...
"Did ya say warpaint?" The mousemaid perked up instantly, suddenly much, much more interested in the power of berries. She could just picture it: Red stripes and zigzags all over her everywhere, maybe with a zigzag down her tail and bright red around her eyes! Villains would cower before her might! Women and babes would scream and run away! She could rule the entire forest with a single glare and a mighty battle roar!
Toki, enraptured, licked her lips at the idea, eyes fixated on the berry. She glanced up to the mole, then back to the berry, then back to the mole, and adopted an incredibly poor attempt at pretending disinterest. "Yanno, I bet no one'd even dare 'tack ya if yor bodyguard had warpaint."
Artie grinned at her. "Do you want me to show you? I could do some war paint for you right now if you like... It doesn't even have to be red if you can find something in a better color..." He glanced around them. "Sometimes there are purple berries, or ones that can look blue if you get enough of them, or unripe ones." He looked over at the leaves up ahead. "And sometimes I can even find this spiky leaf kind of plant, with long puffy leaves full of light green color. Though you have to be careful with those because they have spines up and down the sides of the puffy leaf, and you can hurt yourself getting the green out."
He grinned at her. "I could do you up some warpaint right here if you could find the right colours for it."
There were far, far too many options now for Toki to decide between. There were so many benefits to blue over purple, or purple over green, or green over red, or red over everything! She absolutely could not decide on one. So, she didn't.
Planting her feet, she held up her spiky twig in a challenge to the sky. "We'll fin' all tha stuff you jus' said an' then do ALL the colors! I'll help ya fin' the stuff an' you can make me the best warpaint ever, deal?" Grinning, she stuck out a paw, realized it was the paw with the weapon, and switched paws on the mole without skipping a beat.
Artie grinned crookedly out of one side of his mouth, and shifted his leaf bag to one side so he could clasp paws with her. One he'd shaken her paw he held up a dirty mole claw in warning.
"But we have to get enough so that I can still make paint too. It shouldn't take too much really." He squinted up the path for a moment before making a decision. "We should go look this way. I think this direction is where the blue and purple berries are... though I haven't been able to find blue in quite a while, but my eyesight isn't all that great in this light sometimes."
He started up the indicated path without waiting for a response, and patted his leafbag reassuringly. "I think we may have enough red now, but we'll pick up anything you want us to, including any greens or purples or blues."
"B'lieve it or not," she countered, completely serious, "I'm ak'shuly very small." It was a very easy mistake to make, of course, and Toki wasn't quick to admit it to just anyone. People weren't quick to respond to tiny warriors, especially if said warriors admitted to being itty bitty. The bigger she could convince others that she was, the better things usually turned out for her. That said, this mole didn't seem the type to suddenly shun her for her small size. Any bodyguard was better than no bodyguard, after all.
"I don' have much space ta color, so ya should have lotsa color left over." It made perfect sense to Toki, and she shrugged her shoulders as she started off at the mole's side. Common sense, really. "My eyes're really good," she assured him, and immediately began the task of searching the surrounding area for blue or purple berries. "I'll fin' blue berries for ya, no prob'lm. Unless tha wordlegorbles have eated 'em all. That happens sometimes."
"Wordergorbles?" He asked casually as he left the path to search a bush nearby that looked more colorful than most. "What's a WorderGorble?" He reached the bush and began to look it over. On it were the aforementioned purple berries, but upon closer inspection he could only find four that weren't still green and hard on the inside. He did, however, pocket those four berries.
He tried to imagine a Wordergorble, but came up short on all accounts. He just didn't have any form of reference to start from. On his way back to the path, however, he found some dandelions growing in the dark next to a fern. With a deft paw he scooped them into his bag. They wouldn't be very good for painting the mouse because they were dry, but mashed up and mixed with some oil, they'd make a nice yellow until they got a little old. Then they'd be a nice brown.
"Where on earth do you even find such a thing as a WorderGorble?" He tried to imagine what his mother would say about such a beast.
"Wordlegorbles," she corrected offhand as she tromped about through the underbrush. She began a diligent search for blue berries, but honestly hadn't the faintest idea of where to begin her search. Most of Toki's foraging was simply whatever she found between point A and point B; there was little skill or thought behind her meals. Sure, she knew of likely places to find food in general, but hadn't ever taken the time to think about the specific foods she was finding. It hadn't occurred to her that some foods may not be available at all times; berries may come into season and then pass, watercress would not be accessible under a layer of ice. There was always food somewhere, if she searched hard enough or badgered the right people.
"Wordlegorbles come from gooseberry pies," she began as she peered under a bush. No berries here. "If ya cook a pie too long, it goes all black an' crusty an' a wordlegorble pops out. They're green an' sticky an' have crusty black elbows that itch all tha time. But if they eat blue berries, tha elbows don' itch so much." It was a point of fact that blue berries cured itchy elbows, Toki was sure. Someone had told her that at some point. Maybe it was Baneberry.
"Wordlegorbles have long ears like rabbits an' fluffy tails like skwirls, but they swim real good like fish an' live inna water when they're not huntin' blue berries."
Artie nodded diligently as he tromped down the path, parallel with the mouselet in the bushes. Upon imagining these Wordlegorbles, he discovered that he hoped they didn't actually meet any creatures like that along their travels.
He did, however, pull a piece of paperbark out of his pocket which he used a piece of burnt stick to sketch one of the aforementioned creatures out on. He got to the elbows, which he scribbled on a little to indicate dry fur and skin, then he wrote 'cured by blue berries' on the bark. He looked over the picture for a second... it was rough at best.
"Hey Mouse, do wordlegorblers have fur at all on their bodies?" He quickly added a furry squirrel tail and wrote 'cooked gooseberries' on the paper next to the word 'origin'.
Truth be told, the wordlegorbles were the least of Artie's worries, if Toki's brain were to really open up. Wordlegorbles, she imagined, were at least of a relatively unthreatening size, and, as fond as they were of berries, were probably herbivorous. Not all of the creatures of her imagination were quite so affable.
Of course, they were searching for blue berries, which put them in direct competition with the wordlegorbles. That may in fact lead to a confrontation, and Toki, for all her words, was a very small bodyguard.
"Naw, wordlegorbles are all scaley, like snakeses," she assured him, and paused to pick through another bush. She found a couple of small purple berries, but nothing blue; she plucked the purple ones anyway, and hurried over to Artie to hand them over. "Fur's norra good for swimmin'. But they do have lon' pointy beards. Orange beards," she explained, or decided. Possibly both.
He scribbled something about scales and then was halfway though a note about orange beards before he stopped to think. He noticed that she was holding out purple berries, and so he held open his leafbag.
"The orange beards are probably colored like warpaint, don't you think?" He looked around them again as if the constant checking of the area would yield more colors. "We may want to add Orange color to the list of things we can find." He dropped the bag closed again once she'd dropped the berries in and went back to his sketch of the creature. He finished his note about the orange color and then absent minded picked up some more dandelions on the side of the path.
While he was bending over for the yellow flowers, he noticed that there was a puffy leafed plant in front of him. "Hey Mouse, here's one of those greens I was telling you about." He bent down in front of one of the long spines and used his claws to tear it from the plant. The leaf was about half as long as he was and look as if it was stuffed with something ... which it was. "See?" He held out the torn leaf so that Toki could see the end that was currently dripping light green innards. "This is the color that comes from this plant. I'll have to wrap the drippy end in a leaf so that it doesn't gum up my bag, but I'll need a couple of these. Green color is very important when you paint."
She dropped the berries into the bag without any further ado, then, nodding, turned to continue her search. "Thas prolly true," she admitted, still nodding, and was half way into another bush moments later. Stupid bushes, most of them only had leaves and sticks. That said, she wasn't sure entirely what she was supposed to be looking for. Blue berries, yes, but... "What makes orange?" she asked as she popped out of the bush.
Almost immediately she forgot the question, instead hurrying over to examine the spiny puffed plant. It was both absolutely fascinating and absolutely disgusting. Now, Toki severely regretted claiming that wordlegorbles came from gooseberry pies. These plants were much more likely sources. "I can getcha some big leaves ta wrap 'em in," she offered, and gestured back over her shoulder in a very general sort of way without taking her eyes from the puffy leafed plant.
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Posted: Mon Mar 07, 2011 4:54 pm
I WOULD LIKE TO ADOPT A CHILD! Which one?: 2
Child's Gender?: Male
Child's Name?: Burrik
Gaia Name: Moofuls
If your preexisting character is adopting this child, then which one?: TOKI 8D
If not so then your child will be a runaway and will need a clan... which one?: Fangroot
Prompt:
Toki was hunting burfalumps.
Toki was, by nature, an incredibly skilled hunter, and she was hot on the trail of an impressive specimen of a burfalump--or, at least, she presumed it to be. She hadn't actually seen the creature yet, but that was typical when dealing with burfalumps. Based purely on the strength of the smell, she would pin it as a sizable, masculine burfalump, which was just perfect. His horns would make a stunning addition to her extensive trophy collection. Giggling delightedly under her breath, the mousemaid continued her sideways shuffle through the dense, somewhat safer foliage that marked the fringes of Fangroot's border with Mossflower proper, intently seeking out the burfalump that was surely just ahead.
Burfalumps, as any self-respecting hunter should be well aware, are massive, living toadstools with nasty big pointy teeth and impressive golden horns that curled about themselves like snail shells. Despite these rather distinguishing features, burfalumps are talented in the art of camouflage; a burfalump is almost impossible to spot unless one is standing on its toes, at which point one is usually swiftly gobbled up. But Toki, skilled hunter that she was, had learned the secret of burfalump detection from a wizened old tree branch not ten minutes earlier: look along your ear, and sniff for the scent of bullrushes.
So she followed her nose, which was straight up in the air to ensure that she did not lose the scent, and stumbled through the underbrush, tripping frequently as she utterly failed to watch her step. Her eyes were far too busy trying to catch a glimpse of the edge of her right ear; if she focused very hard, she imagined she could see a bit of it. It was very important that she was able, else she would never be able to see the burfalump and it might gobble her right up! But as long as she looked down her ear instead of directly searching for visible signs of the burfalump, he would clearly stand out from the surrounding terrain, something like a Magic Eye image--which, to be honest, was a rather impressive thought for a little mousemaid who had never even seen a Magic Eye.
Unfortunately for Toki, the scent that she followed was not the scent of bullrushes--and thus, not the scent of a burfalump. It was doubtful, in fact, that she followed a single particular scent. Though she would never, ever, ever admit it, 'scent distinguishing' was not high on Toki's extensive list of mastered abilities. Bullrushes was just such a fun word to think about. Thus, it came as an incredible surprise to both the mousemaid and everyone reading about her when she did manage to spot the elusive burfalump; it stood out against the surrounding underbrush like a puffy little berry bush, which it was, and betrayed its presence with a hiccuping sniffle to boot.
Toki wasted absolutely no time, and charged the berry bush burfalump with her most vicious, terrible, blood-curdling war cry.
The burfalump shrieked, a horrible, ear-piercing din to chill bones and send badgers fleeing.
Toki screamed, terrified, and tripped over her own feet in her hurry to retreat.
The burfalump screamed, terrified, and remained exactly where it was. It was a bush, after all.
Seconds passed while mouse and bush both waited, scared stiff, for the other to rush up and gobble them up. In the very back of her mind, in a tiny, distant corridor festooned with cobwebs, a piece of Toki's brain that liked to call itself Rationality reminded the mousemaid that bushes could not scream. Instantly, Toki brushed aside her fear and climbed to her feet; if it wasn't a burfalump, surely there was nothing to be afraid of. The mousemaid scooped up her SquidStickofBerryBushInspecting from where it had fallen and recklessly approached the bush, which was once again still and silent. Utterly unconcerned, she shoved the hooked end of the staff into the bush and, with it, drew several small branches aside.
A set of eyes, thankfully set in a living, breathing body of a tiny little mouse, peered out of the bush out her, betraying only a hint of the fright that had been expressed in the earlier scream. Toki was impressed, but also somewhat disappointed. So much for her hunting expedition. "Yor nodda burfalump."
The little mouse responded with a flick of his ear, and peered up his nose at the home invader. "S'norrasuch fing," he announced imperiously, utterly unimpressed now that he had recognized the mousemaid was not a threat. The scream him surprised him, that was all. Yes. "Eyza mousie. S'norrasuch fing azza burfamlump."
"No such thing?!" Toki exclaimed in disgust, leaping back as if she had been burned--and releasing her hold on the branches, which snapped to their original positions and swatted the little mouse across the face. He emerged from the bush a moment later, rubbing his smarting nose. Toki swung her staff to point dramatically at the disbelieving little lad. "There sure is burfalumps, there is. An' grormalorks an' snurplglarbs an' blizzerfoos. They're everwhere!" she insisted, sweeping her arms in a grand gesture to take in the surrounding area. "Haven' ya ever seen 'em?"
"No," the little mouse announced shortly, with a sniffle and a wiggle of his nose to assure himself that it was in working order. He tried his darndest to remain unimpressed; he had never heard of any such creatures before, and he was not incredibly inclined to believe a mousemaid who went about screaming at bushes while covered in colorful spots.
Toki frowned. "Ya been livin' undera rock?"
The lad considered the question, but shook his head in response and took a deep breath before replying. "Livuponna mounfane wiv mumma an daa an beckle an shmiv an d'ovvers buh daa gods gobblelleded up om nom nom borra owlbird an mumma tooks us toa ol'leafynest stead an thenna slimyoozystinkyyuk badd-ger gobblelleded'er up om nom nom an then--" he wheezed, pausing to inhale another long breath. Toki nodded, listening patiently. It was rather lucky that she wasn't much older than the boy, otherwise she may not have been able to follow the rapid-fire babytalk. As it was, his story had her rapt attendance--which didn't happen often with anything.
"Ovver treebesties wen 'Norra here wivoud mumma, mousies!' an bigole flopears wen 'Commere mousies an stay widda me!', buh i'z nooooyzee an crow-d. Sozeye leeveded an wenna finda treebesties 'gain." He paused once more to think over his own words and finally, satisfied, nodded. "Yup. Buh norrarock."
Toki nodded slowly, even though the younger mouse had completely missed the point of her question. The story had been rather insightful, anyway. The gears in her mind ticked away, but Toki was never especially keen on waiting for her brain to catch up with her mouth; she chattered away. "Yor in luck! I live inna tree!" She was not, in fact, a TreeBeast, but that hardly mattered; the Rooters lived in trees anyway, and she doubted the little lad would know the difference, or care, for that matter. "You can come back wid me an' meet Baaaaneberry an' we'll hunt grormalorks an' burfalumps together," she announced with a bright grin.
The little mouse lad twitched an ear uncertainly, frowning. "Buh...s'norrasuch fing."
"There SO is," Toki snapped, but took no great offense. She would convert him yet! Turning about-face, the mousemaid draped an arm across the younger mouse's shoulders and, half dragging him at her side, started off for home. "Ya jus' need an edjamacation, s'all. I'll teacha alla 'bout tha grormalorks an' burfalumps an' grorglesnarks, an' we'll hunt an' pirate an' battle evil warlords. Like Jim!" she shouted, raising her LittleMouseConvincingSquidStick in a challenge against her ultimate invisible foe.
"But first," she announced, glancing down with a toothy grin for the little mouse lad. "We gotta getcha some war paint."
Toki's excitement was, unfortunately, infectious, and despite his best attempts the little mouse found himself smiling in response. He had never, ever heard of any of the creatures of which she spoke (he will still utterly certain that they were not real), but the mousemaid seemed harmless enough, and nice to boot. This could be...fun. "M'names Burrik," he offered, somewhat shy with the formal introduction.
"Buuuurrrk," Toki shouted, drawing the syllables together into a single rolling one, utterly mangling the simple name--probably intentionally. "Good. Ya can be my minion, Burrrk. I'm Toki. C'mon," she insisted, switching tangents in the blink of an eye and starting back for home. "I've been huntin' burfalumps for HOURS an' I'm STARVIN'. I bet Artholomewd'll give us a pie if you keep lookin' pitiful. Hurry up, keep up!"
And off she ran, not bothering to see that he was keeping up; if he couldn't keep up, he would be left behind. You had to be tough to roll with Toki.
Burrik was right behind her every step of the way.
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Posted: Thu Mar 10, 2011 12:29 pm
Quote: First Round!I hate morning lumber.
You awaken to the smell of damp earth and a throbbing headache. Water droplets slip from the ceiling in an irritatingly irregular pattern, smacking against a tree root near your feet.
As you struggle to regain a sense of awareness you realize you've never seen this place. The ceiling is low and before you are thick branches, cut and rooted vertically as to hamper your escape from this underground prison. Any belongings you had with you are gone and you feel as though a large bump has formed on the back of your noggin.
Nearby you can hear voices, squirrels no doubt, and they seem rather chuffed with themselves. " -and 'e says, you know what 'e says? 'e says to me, Farrah's gonna get him a promotion. Gonna let him have ol' Gene's spot. Head second-in-line-for-breakfast if you ask me. I don't want that on my head. I says to 'im, "Good! Glad ya caught em! When ye ain't caught nothin' next month it won't be my furry behind Ferrah's snacking on."
Sounds like you might be invited to supper, perhaps it would be best to excuse yourself before d'oeuvres are served.
Options!
- Try to bust down those bars! (body) (Difficulty: 13)
- Dig up a root and use it as a lever to bust out a bar! (mind) (Difficulty: 12)
- Perhaps if you ask one of those young squirrel types they'll let you out, they can't just feed you to some 'Ferrah'! How cruel! How unfair! Woe unto the world! (soul) (Difficulty: 14)
Success: You get out and head down the hall away from the voices!
Failure: You're still in there... and you've drawn some unwanted attention from the guard.
Takin' a ride on the FAILBOAT.]]
It was not at all unusual for Nolan to awake to an unfamiliar area. The young hare almost never spent two nights in the same place unless conditions were exceptionally ideal: an overabundance of food, for example, or a sheltered nook that was not already inhabited by some more permanent beast. But rarely, if ever, did he wake with a throbbing skull and a niggling sense that something was just wrong to surroundings that were so utterly unappealing .
For several moments he lay still in the middle of the dank cell, taking in his surroundings and attempting to make sense of the situation. The constant, off-beat drip drip as water droplets condensed and spilled from the ceiling grated against his aching head; the soft voices down the hall certainly didn't help matters, especially given the present subject of their conversation. His skin crawled in a most unnerving manner, and he felt his stomach turn over.
And then it clicked.
"Blood an' fire!" the young hare shouted, sitting bolt upright as if he had been stung and frantically searching the dimly lit cell with his eyes. His staff was gone. His staff was gone. The floor of the small cell was cold and bare save for a few protruding roots and a small puddle where the droplets from the ceiling were gradually accumulating. His staff was gone and he was useless and crippled and trapped in this dank little cell and absolutely furious. "Blisterin' wretches!" he snarled, shouting down the corridor with a shake of his fist. "Swamp-suckin' snaggle-toothed bush-tailed rotters! Cads!"
Oblivious to the footsteps already hurrying his direction, Nolan scrambled to his knees and scrambled for the bars of the cell, shoving and tugging--a technique that would have been absolutely useless even if he had had both legs to support his efforts, given his small size and slender form. He gave up the attempt almost immediately and, still jabbering away to himself about the utter disgrace to mammals that were squirrels, quickly searched the room once more for a tool, any tool, to aid in his escape.
He had two options, he quickly decided: He could either try to drown his captors in the millimeter deep puddle when they came for him, or bludgeon them with a tree root from the cell floor. The root was infinitely more probable, and certainly would be much more fulfilling in his momentary rage. He dug quickly, with forepaws skilled at the task from the general upkeep on his old Hallowmarl burrow, and soon had a chunk of root the length of his forearm unearthed. He twisted, bent, and snapped it free, and hurriedly turned his attention back to the wooden bars of the cell.
Nolan's attention span, unfortunately, was not at all up to his normal standards. The loss of his staff itched at the back of his mind, poking and prodding and constantly reminding him that he NEEDED the object to function properly, he NEEDED the staff to be whole again. With his squirrel captors still out of sight, Nolan plans to beat them bloody went out of mind as quickly as they had arrived; instead, he hunkered down beside the bars and wedged the slender root between them. As easily as it had been to snap the root free in the first place, it should have been no surprise when the root failed to budge the bar even the slightest bit and, instead, split in two with an unimpressive crack.
The young hare's balance wavered, and he flopped back on his rear, staring, bewildered, at the half of the root that he still held. And then a head appeared around the corner of the hallway. Without a second thought and with a surprising level of accuracy given his current state, Nolan hurled the broken root through the bars directly for his chosen target, shouting, "Give me back m' bleedin' STAFF, brushtail!"
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Posted: Thu Mar 10, 2011 12:30 pm
Quote: Round 1 FailureWell that didn't turn out so good. They sure don't look pleased either, and they convey as much by kindly 'tenderizing' Ferrah's dinner (that would be you) with clubs through the bars like the a*****e squirrels they are. The smell of damp earth again as you're drug by your feet down the hallway. Light periodiclly filtering down to glare in your face from twig-hatched skylights bore out of the tunnels every so often. You're near the surface... Options-Get up and kindly present them with a new breathing hole. (body) (Dif:18 ) -Kick them off first chance you get and make a break for it! (Body/2 + Int+2, round down) (Dif: 13) -Bide your time until they pass by something big and heavy... (Mind) (Dif: 14) -Ohhh the pain. Ohhhhh I think I'm dying. Please for the love of god just put me down a momen- is that a green bottomed specklefly? OH MY GOD RUN FOR IT. (Soul) (Dif:15) Success: You're free! Hurrah! Make a break for it up the hall where a woven door glows with the promise of concealed sunlight.
Failure: Whether it's drug, kicked in or make a wrong turn, you end up down in a deep, muddy pit... It smells of... well... the skull next to you is a good indication you shouldn't breath too deeply. Light filters down from a woven ceiling above...
Round Two: Mind = 8 + 19 Rolled, BIG and HEAVY, Success!]]
The thrown root hit home, smacking the lead squirrel squarely in the face, and Nolan took some small satisfaction in his exclamation of anger. Sure, the root did absolutely no real damage, but the thieving blackguards should share his pain. Bwahahahaha! The small boost in his mood was very short lived, however, as the squirrel and his comrade hastily exacted their revenge for the ineffective assault. The first swat of a club caught him off guard--he had expected threats, sure, but an actual beating was serious overkill--with a crack across the nose; seeing stars, he made a brief, fruitless attempt to wrestled the club from the squirrel's grip before falling back under barrage of blows from the second squirrel.
Before long, he was curled in a tight ball against the back wall of the cell, with his arms wrapped about his head in a last-ditch effort to avoid any lasting damage. Unfortunately, this meager defense had the adverse effect of prolonging the squirrels' attack. The bushtailed miscreants, it seemed, were absolutely bent on beating him senseless. Eventually, they succeeded.
He came to with a grimace and a groan as his head bounced off of a rock embedded in the floor of the hallway. The world spun with a sickening lurch as he opened his eyes; he was inclined to blame the wave of vertigo on a concussion until he realized he was, in fact, in motion. He was being dragged unceremoniously across the bare earth by his one remaining foot. The fur on his back side caught and pulled and caked in the damp soil, just another minor convenience to add to the countless bumps and bruises he had accumulated. The squirrels, for the time being, seemed unaware that he had revived, so Nolan used to opportunity to take stock of his current condition.
He was...well, still in one piece, or as whole of a beast as he had ever been. He still had both ears, both arms, and was more bruised than broken, though he could taste blood and was willing to bet that his nose was about three times its normal size. Nolan squinted as a sharp beam of light caught him full in the face. A moment later he was past the skylight and craning his head back to get a better look at the source. That was natural daylight... They were near the surface. If he could just get away from these two, he may be able to get above ground before this Farrah noticed he was missing. Presuming he was able to find his staff first, of course. The knowledge of its absence tugged at the back of his mind, temporarily subdued by the lingering pain from the recent beating, but certainly not completely erased. Leaving without the staff would just be inviting Farrah's lot to catch up with him on the surface and he was sure that a second escape would be impossible.
Providing that the first escape was not, of course.
Leaping up and running was never really an option. Luck was (apparently) with him, however, for an opportunity was not long in presenting itself. As the squirrels dragged him along the floor to who knew where, they passed several other branching tunnels as well as the occasional cell that was similar in construction to the one he had recently inhabited. One of these looked as though an avalanche had just breezed through; the cell's bars were scattered like ten pins and great furrows had been plowed in the dirt floor and ceiling where the bars had previously been embedded. The destruction had apparently occurred only recently, for it concerned the squirrels enough that they slowed, then drew to a halt completely, conversing in muttered tones.
It was a better opportunity that Nolan could have begun to hope for. Carefully, quietly, he stretched out and seized hold of one of the scattered bars. Actually wielding the new weapon was considerably more difficult, but not impossible. Nolan all but held his breath, waiting for the right moment, then suddenly sat bolt upright and whipped the cell bar around like a bat, cracking it across the rear end of the nearest squirrel. He toppled forward, overbalanced, and the second whirled on Nolan, surprised. The hare was ready for him. Even from a sitting position, he wasn't much shorter than the standing squirrel, and the cell bar more than compensated for his current height. He brought the bar crashing down on the squirrel's skull with a resounding crack, and actually laughed aloud in approval when his opponent dropped to the ground. Whether he was unconscious or dead, Nolan couldn't say, but at this point the hare couldn't have cared less.
Using the cell bar as a crutch, Nolan hoisted himself to his foot just in time to have the first squirrel turn on him again. Maintaining his balance on one foot while swinging a stick was out, so the young hare used the crutch to propel himself at his foe. He tackled the squirrel to the ground, and the pair rolled several paces before Nolan gained the upper hand. He didn't hesitate, but pushed himself to sit up with one arm, then brought the cell bar down on the squirrel's face with the other. Once. Twice. Thrice. Again and again.
Breathing heavily from the brief exertion to his already sore body, Nolan climbed off of the crumpled form and struggled to his feet once more. The bar, with its narrow tip, made an incredibly uncomfortable crutch, but he really didn't have any other option. Leaving the two unfortunate squirrels behind, the young hare hobbled off down the hallway and was rewarded by the sight of a dimly glowing woven door. He gave a small smile of approval and hurried on to push it open. In the back of his mind, a voice niggled that he was abandoning his staff, but he settled it with an assurance that that was far from the case. He was merely verifying that this was the way out, then he would double back in search of the staff. He addiction, content with the death of at least one squirrel, accepted that explanation for the present as Nolan pushed open the woven door.
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Posted: Thu Mar 10, 2011 12:31 pm
Quote: Round One Failure Round Two Success FREE...dom? Oh great thistle, there's squirrels down here and they're dancing around a fire within a deep earthen burrow, some other poor creature the center feature as it writhes about, tied to a pit. Their misfortune however is your luck and the squirrels are far too focused on watching their little guest toast than your entry. Ohhhh the moral quandaries. Options- Meat eating squirrels? What in the world? THIS MADNESS MUST STOP. RUIN THEM ALL. (Body) (Dif: 18 ) - You notice a acorn nut filled with oils in the corner... hmmm, fire. (Mind) (dif: 14) - Maybe if I just... sneak... out the side... (can not take bonus) (Mind) (Dif:8 ) - Maybe I can convince them... I'm supposed to be here and ah... I'm just going to be going that way... (Soul) (Dif: 16) Bonus! Free/Take the creature with you. This round is 2 points harder to make, but the next round you get a bonus 3 help from your new friend for life. Success - You manage to make it down a side hall and before you the hall seems to let out next to a riverside, the sound of rushing water like music to your ears. Failure - Will the pain never end? They aren't too happy either, beating you down and grabbing you up by the scruff to drag you down to a riverbank, muttering something about how this is all too much trouble just to keep some fat, stupid wolf happy.
Mind = 8 + 17, KILL IT WITH FIRE + Mousie Dif:16. Success!]]
The sight that awaited him beyond the woven door was the absolute last thing that Nolan had expect. Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration. He really wasn't surprised to see more squirrels, but to see several squirrels cavorting about a fire and cooking--what was that, a mouse?--a mouse alive was on the more bizarre end of his imagination. The young hare immediately stepped back a pace to watch the proceedings through a crack in the doorway, taking the time to take stock of the situation instead of barging in without a plan.
Here was a dilemma. Not concerning the mousie, no; Nolan really could have cared less about the unfortunate little mouse. Had he been any more sure of his escape, he would have snuck about and left the little mouse to burn up and distract the squirrels for him for a bit longer. But without his staff, the squirrels would only catch up with him once they bored with the mouse and noticed that he was missing (Not that he was actually leaving the staff, he assured himself). He couldn't outrun them like this. Now, if he caused some havoc, maybe took out several more squirrels, that would keep them occupied for considerably longer. And if he happened to help out the mouse in the mean time, well, a mouse was probably a better crutch than the stick that he was presently using.
Alternatively, he could turn around and explore down the other direction, but it was probably better to continue away from the squirrels that he had already beaten down, rather than returning to the scene of the crime.
From behind the door, he watched for a short time, eyes searching the room for an effective means of clearing out the squirrels--or smiting as many as possible, he addiction suggested. Nolan was inclined to agree. He watched, silently, as one squirrel broke off from the group about the fire and started towards the door, only to veer off as he neared and instead paused near a shelf where several acorn shells rested, each full of some unknown liquid. Using a smaller shell fragment, the squirrel, cackling, spooned out a bit of one of the liquids and hurried back towards the fire. He flung the liquid into the fire, and it blazed up towards the ceiling, sending the squirrels into a frenzy once more. Some kind of oil, then...
It wasn't much of a plan, really. In fact, it was incredibly risky; if something went wrong, he was dead. There was no outrunning this lot if they turned on him. But by blood and fire, he wanted to watch them burn.
Maintaining as much stealth as possible given that he had to clunk along with a stupid cell bar crutch, Nolan slipped into the room and towards the acorns full of oil. Retrieving one shell and a shell fragment spoon of his own, he crept towards the squirrels and settled himself in a little nook, a shadowy corner largely hidden by a sizable rock. Whenever a squirrel spun past, Nolan would scoop up a spoon full of oil and flick it out at the beast. The droplets and splashes weren't enough to really arose suspicion, especially swept up in their festivities as the squirrels were, but the clinging oil was not quick to leave the fur as other liquids might have. The result was that within a very short time, all of the squirrels glistened with a thin sheen of oil, and Nolan's acorn bowl was empty.
Timing his movements carefully, the hare abandoned his hiding spot and crept back towards the shelf for another pot. This time, however, he was not so lucky. As he neared the shelf, a shout went up, and he glanced back in time to see several heads turn his direction. Nolan threw himself forward at the shelf, abandoning his crutch in the process, and managed to brace himself against the shelf and remain standing. Scooping up one of the acorns, he hurled it across the room towards the fire, scattering oil every which way as it flew.
The fire roared and surged upward as the flying oil reached it, racing up along the airborne droplets before they could fall. Hare, mouse, and squirrels alike went up in flames as the blazing liquid fell and ignited whatever it came into contact with; the difference was that the hare and mouse had considerably less to keep it going, while the squirrels weren't going to be put out so easily. Squirrels, fur aflame, screamed and ran about as Nolan dropped to the floor and rolled to extinguish his singed fur. He snatched up his crutch, struggled to his foot, and hobbled past several flailing squirrels on his way across the room, which was blazing merrily by this point and rapidly filling with smoke. The smoke and general chaos set him off track; he found himself near the screaming mouse, who he had utterly forgotten about in the madness of the spreading fire.
Oh right, his living crutch. Right.
Nolan hurried to the mouse's side, with quick work, managed to severe the ropes that were already largely separated by fire. The mouse, still screaming (he was on fire, after all), fell to the ground and made to leap up, but Nolan shoved him back to the ground and physically rolled him about until the flames died down. "Y-y-you saved me," the mouse exclaimed, eyes wide and teary--whether from his ordeal or the smoke, it was hard to say. He had a few minor burns, certainly, but the blaze had largely taken his fur alone. "Your lucky day, mousie," Nolan offered by way of a greeting, and left the mouse to climb to his feet alone. "But there's a trade off, y' see. C'mon, you get t' be my crutch."
The mouse was quick enough to agree, more than grateful for his freedom even if Nolan had set him on fire in the process, and the hare draped his arm about his new companion's shoulders, but kept a hold of the cell bar with his opposite hand in case he should need it again. Together, they hobbled off and out of the chamber in the opposite direction from the screaming squirrels, the opposite direction from the door through which Nolan had arrived. They hadn't gone far before a light opened up ahead, accompanied by the sound of running water. Both beasts instinctively quickened their paces in response to the stimuli, and both gave excited cheers as their world opened up to a riverbank. Free.
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Posted: Thu Mar 10, 2011 12:34 pm
Quote: Time for end prompts! No rolls this time guys, you decide what happens from here on out! Hopefully you've enjoyed playing with ability scores :> Round 1 FAILURE Round 2 SUCCESS Round 3 SUCCESS Lo and behold! A raft! A bound together craft of sticks and string rests upon the shore, an escape surely if only you (and anyone who might have joined you) can avoid prying eyes... like those peering out a hole up above. Will there never be an end to these squirrel bastards? Time for a quick escape!
Round 1 FAILURE
Round 2 SUCCESS
Round 3 SUCCESS]]
Together, the hare and mouse hurried off down the riverbank, with the mouse occasionally glancing back to assure himself that they weren't being followed. As far as he could tell, they were not. A dark plume of smoke rose up from the brush behind them; undoubtedly, the squirrels had more important things to worry about at present.
They hadn't gone far before a break in the bank reeds opened to the very welcome sight of a small, sturdy raft moored to the riverbank, apparently unattended. The two exchanged glances, and the mouse, immediately hurried along, all but dragging the reluctant hare with him. "This is the perfect way out," the mouse insisted. Nolan hadn't caught his name yet. He hadn't thought to ask. "The raft'll carry us downstream fast enough that those squirrels won't be able to keep up," the mouse went on brightly, all optimism after his narrow brush with death. "We can outrun them and circle back to...wherever you belong," he cheerfully insisted.
The hare was visibly uneasy at the suggestion, and pulled free of the mouse's grip to linger on the riverbank even as the mouse climbed aboard the raft. Nolan glanced back they way they had come, frowning. He had two very good reasons for wanting to avoid the river. Firstly, he was not, and never had been, a very strong swimmer. If something went wrong with the raft, he would probably sink like a rock in the swift current of the river. Secondly...his staff was, for all he knew, still back in the squirrel's cavern. Racing away downriver on a raft basically negated any change he had of retrieving it.
That aside, he had the strangest sensation that they were being watched.
"I can't," he finally announced, and, with the aid of his crutch, turned to venture back towards the smoking caverns. "Those squirrels...have somethin' of mine, and I can't leave without it. You go on, though, mousie. Good luck."
"Hold on," the mouse called after him. "You can't go in there right now. The cavern's on fire! It'll probably collapse on you." When the words had little effect, he tried again. "Besides, those squirrels were just going to eat you, like they were trying to eat me. They probably didn't even pick up your stuff when they caught you. I bet if you went back to the last place you set up camp, you'd find your...whatever you're missing. Leg?"
Not the brightest mouse, no. But he had a point.
"It's a staff," he explained, and slowly turned back to the mouse. "It let's me wa--"
"SQUIRREL," the mouse shouted, pointing almost directly upward at a pair of eyes peering down from the shelter of a tree cavity. "HURRYHURRYHURRY," he shouted, waving Nolan to the raft as the alarm went up and several squirrels sprang from the tree nook. The young hare didn't have time to think; he pole-vaulted onto the raft using the cell bar crutch even as the mouse freed the raft from it's mooring rope. The little craft, propelled by the motion of the hare's landing, slid easily into the current and sprang off downstream, leaving several furious and shouting squirrels on the riverbank behind.
And off they went!
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Posted: Thu Mar 10, 2011 12:57 pm
Quote: STEP RIGHT UP LADIES AND GENTLYMEN! It's the show you've all been waiting for, right here on my very own stage, taking place right here in your very own forest, using, who else, but your very own selves! That's right everyone, it's AMELIA'S AMAZING TRUNK OF PURE AMAZINGNESS! This trunk has been in the making for years, and you won't find a trunk more amazing, stuffed with more amazing things... you get my drift? Good! I knew you were all smart little beasts! So here's the deal kiddies, Come and see the show, sit in the audience and watch until your eyes pop out with delight! There's antics and puppet shows and a chance for you to be on stage! That's right little missus and little mistahs, you could be my next assistants if you want to be... Just ask Amelia here, I mean, sure she's my niece and all (adopted of course me lovelies), but she used to be a plain little mouse, just the same way that you're a plain little hog, or you're a plain little bird. Then one day she says to me, "Uncle Bale, tell me how I too can be amazing!" and I told her that all she needed was a piece of apparel. THAT'S RIGHT KIDDOS! Apparel! And Amelia's trunk here is just choc full of it all. So STEP RIGHT UP! Step on up here and get a paw in that trunk! Pull out whatever costumery you feel suits you best, sahalap 'er on yer little selves and have a seat here on one of these benches. The show will begin shortly! Quote: "Halright kiddos, have a seat, have a seat. Don't push or shove, don't pinch or pull... Just sit. That's right. Now... who here wants to see a story? A wonderful story about a prince and a princess, who live in a castle and are happy until a wicked queen comes and makes life terrible for a short while? "UNCLE BALE!" "What is it my love, my sweet niece (by adoption children, by adoption)... What can I do for you, Amelia my love?" "I HATE the story about the Prince and Princess. I want a NEW story! I want a story about... a... Unicorn and a evil black cat wizard who tries to steal the unicorn's magic powers!" "Alright, Amelia my love, you find me the characters and I'll tell you the story. Don't trip on your scarf there... Ooh... bet that hurt. Now, brave beasts and evil beasts in the audience, who would like to hear a story about a Magical unicorn and the wicked Evil cat that tried to take the Unicorn's powers from him?" "I gottem Uncle Bale! I gottem!" "Thank you Amelia my dear... Let's us see now. This chap here with the colourful hair, he shall be the courageous BrooHA! Unicorn fighter extraordinaire. His deeds shall be sung a thousand times in a thousand circles, and his name shall always be spoken with a hint of jealousy, a heaping teaspoon of fame and just a pinch of celery seeds. This fellow over here.... oh, excuse me, Fellowess. She shall be the evil cat, with aspirations of wickedness met only by the cat she called father, BUT WHO WASN'T HER FATHER! But I won't bore you with mundane details of Persnicket's life here, the fact that her father ISN'T HER FATHER is not entirely important in today's story. Perhaps another time Persnicker? Perhaps, indeed." "Uncle Bale, her name is Persnicket." "Good heavens... what did I call her?" "Persnicker." "Ah, thank you. I will endeavor to be more attentive in my assertations." "Uh huh." "Anyway. Our story begins one night. There was some debate as to whether the night was nice or dire... do you recall which it was?" "Yes yes, of course. I should have known. BrooHA was walking calmly from his house one day, where he was going I shan't tell you, for you are all little and wouldn't understand the complex desires of a grown man's soul... anywho, he was walking, and in his travels he came across a an old beggar cat in the road. Now, Kiddos, if you ever happen across an old beggar in your travels, you best do whatever they want you to do, because if stories teach us anything, it's that beggars are never simply vagabonds. They usually have magic powers which they won't hesitate to use on you for whatever purpose you earn. This beggar was no different, for no sooner had she asked BrooHA for a spare bite of apple (he refused, the daft animal, all rainbow hair and not a drop of common sense in the beast!), than the beggar stood and became Persniffity, the evil cat wizardess!" "Persnicket." "Persnicket, right. She stared him right in the eye and said "Arrrrent you scarrrred little horny horse?... Eh, Horned horse!" *puppetfacepalm* He looked her right in the eye and said "NNNeiiiigh Evil Persnarft..." "Persnicket." "Persnicket... I'm Nniiiiiiiiooot afraid of you at allllll." And she grinned an evil grin and smiled and wicked smile and she said. "Oh Arrrrrre you now? Let's play a game... shall we?" And children, should a beggar or an evil wizard ever ask you to play a game you say no. Nothing good has ever come from playing games with wizards. I once played a game of three card shrewish with a wizard's h'aprentice and I lost my lucky tail for a week! Anywho... being the dumb horse that he was, all brawn and rainbow brains make for poor common sense, He told her that he LOVED games and that he could beat her at ANY GAME she chose... Do you know what she chose?" "No, she chose to play the ol' 'tell me a story game'... You know how to play that game right? The first person tells a story, and the other person has to respond with the right emotion and the right words to make the story make sense.... I'll need a couple of volounteers from the h'audience here... put up cher paws if you want to come up here and help me. Amelia, will you help people to the stage please? That one there... that one... that one too. " "Yes SAH!"
"GET IT BUURRRRK, GET THA SNORG!" A shouting Toki raced by in pursuit of the mythical beast, utterly failing to notice the very real group of children enjoying the show. The little mouse who followed less enthusiastically after her did not manage such an incredible oversight. Burrik followed after his "guardian" at just a fast enough pace to ensure that she did not outrun him, utterly unconcerned by the prospect that the snorg might be escaping. Burrik didn't believe in snorgs. He questioned the existence of glurblestarks and was willing to entertain the notion of burfalumps, but snorgs were right out. Thus, he wasn't exactly excited to be racing after nothing, but he really didn't want to lose track of Toki--again. The world was awfully empty without her.
Empty, save for the big group of children watching a stage show, anyway. Burrik slowed to a walk, then paused in step, staring, open-mouthed, at the excited group. After a long moment, without averting his eyes, he called out, "'Ey Tokiiiiiiiiii?"
"Buuuuurrrrk," she called back, irritated by the distraction. "Snorgs!"
"Da snorg gorrawy," he argued, already more than capable of dealing with his companion when reality called. "Lookit, cossumes!"
While Toki wasn't entire sure what a cossume entailed, it wasn't often that Burrik suggested an entertainment source of his own. The little mouse, for all his young age, was unbearably practical most of the time. It was all Toki could do to convince him to let her adorn him in war paint, and even then the paint was neither as prolific or colorful as her own. She had completed his outfit with a necklace of a crunch brown leaf to mark him as her minion, a jewelry piece that Burrik proceeded to rip every other day; dead leaves were no where near as durable as the green that she wore about her neck. Like the excellent, intelligent, caring guardian that she was, Toki would have liked to have done more for Burrik. Pants, for example, would be pretty cool--she adored her own. But pants were not something Toki could construct, and trading was not a great option for an absent minded mousemaid who tended to destroy anything of value in her pursuit of monsters.
The mousemaid decided to humor her friend and hunt for the rare and elusive cossumes; the snorgs could wait. "Where?" she asked, even as she turned and hurried back his way. She stared at the little mouse, waiting for a response, then simply followed his gaze to the group about the stage. "....Ooooo, c'mon Buurrrk!" And she raced for the stage.
Seeing the other children clustered around the trunk, Toki wasted no time in helping herself to its contents. Shirts and scarves went flying as she tossed away anything that didn't immediately catch her attention--many said articles of clothing landed on the heads and tails of the other children clustered about. There were lots and lots of interesting items, to be sure, but nothing just right... Toki liked her pants, after all, so she didn't need any new ones. And some of these outfits were amazing and layered and ruffled, but it was far, far too much fabric to appeal to the little mousemaid. Finally, however, a white bundle of "fur" carefully set in elaborate curls appeared from under a pair of striped pantaloons. Toki, giggling with delight, rescued the object from the bottom of the trunk and, after carefully examining it, crammed it onto her head.
Toki rocked a Madame De Pompadour Wig.
She struck poses, admiring her imaginary reflection, even as Burrik pushed past her to examine the trunk himself. A small, purple vest was his first find; it was incredibly simple, but it fit nicely, which was quite a lot to be said for someone of his small size. Next, he, too, obtained an exceptional piece of head gear: a large (for Burrik), black and red plumed sultan's hat that may or may not have once belonged to a tall Disney villain. Frowning thoughtfully, Burrik made several attempts to balance the over-large hat upon his head; he finally managed with the edges resting precariously upon his ears, which were flattened nearly against the sides of his head.
Their costumes selected, the two young mice eagerly retreated back with the rest of the audience as Bale resumed his performance. Toki crowed in delight at the idea of a unicorn--which she had never heard of--while Burrik rolled his eyes. Even the adults were lost in imaginary creatures. (He had never heard of a unicorn either, you see.) The two were an excellent audience, however, responding loudly and enthusiastically in the way babes will when in a loud and boisterous crowd. (Both were of the vast opinion that the night should be as dire as possible, though neither was entirely sure was the word meant.) Their responses as to the games were much less sensible; Toki's games were, after all, hunting evil beasties, and that certainly was no simple game, while Burrik's idea of a nice game was tic-tac-toe, or throw-rocks-at-the-beetle.
At the request for assistants from the audience, Toki's paw shot up like a rocket. "MEMEMEMEME," she shrilled, waving frantically at the hare. Burrik gave her a dirty look for he enthusiasm, but this time remained quiet; he had no desire to stand in the spotlight. Not on an actual stage, anyway.
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Posted: Thu Mar 10, 2011 1:01 pm
Quote: Amelia rushed down into the audience, and grabbed at some of the beasts who's hands were up. She would later remember that the audience was much larger than the normal... it must have been a market day or something. By the end of her rounds in the audience, she had collected 11 children not all that much older than herself, she had accidentally tied a mouse (Toki) and a bat (Mot) up in her scarf when she turned a corner too quickly, she had stepped on the foot of a bird (Tarke), and she had rounded angrily on two squirrel boys who (she assumed) had purposefully stepped on her scarf to try and get her to trip. When they all made it up onto the small wooden stage, Amelia announced them all with a "TADA!" and promptly flapped her eye patch onto her other eye for good measure. Bale grinned at her, and gave the volunteers a flourish. "Ladies and small gentlemen, you have been selected. All you have to do... is whatever I say" He grinned at them all and pulled the puppets up on his hands again as if to start. "Uncle Bale, you gotta organize them." Amelia stamped her little foot and glared at her uncle. Bale sighed. "H'alright. All you beastlings listen up. There's..." he paused and glanced over them all, counting. "11 of you and Mealy here makes 12. Get in line there little miss." He prodded the little mousemaid with a foot, and enjoyed the death glare she shot him before falling in line next to the little robin. "Now, no mousies next to mousies, lets keep the squirrel in a league... no, only one squirrel? Lots of mousies though." he sighed again. "Hokay. You there, miss, what's yer name? Toki? Alright Toki, you stand here next to this here bat, yer name please? Mot. Miss Toki and Miss Mot here. You're group one. You there, little Red bird, you're with Mealy Mouth, don't you glare at me like that. Now, Mr red squirrel, your name please? Finn. You're with this chap here, name please? Newt. Finn and Newt. You there, pretty miss mousie, you're with this ferret here... your names please? Trix and Zander. Trix, Zander, Zander, Trix, now you're h'aquainted. The little pilot here, Roland, yes thank you, you're getting the hang of this then, you're with the other lovely little miss mousie, name please? Hazel... lovely name for a lovely mousemiss. And that leaves another mouse missy and a pretty young blue with a bell. Your names? Cadence and... Pantoof? Really? I think I knew you in another life. Anywho... now your'e all paired." He sighed again one last time, took a deep breath and launched into the story again. "So BrooHA here, says yes, he'll play the Persnicket's game, cause he's oh so clever and oh so smart, and oh so int'hellighent, never knowing all the while that all three of those mean the same thing. He stands up in front of the cat wizardess and tells her "Briiihhhhiiiing it on!" So she does. She launches into a story about a warthog. A warthog named Dartanian who lives in the woods all alone and never has a mean thing to say about nobody. But Dartanian the warthog doesn't have any friends, because can you imagine being friends with someone as ugly as a warthog? They stink and they smell. But one day Dartanian is walking through the woods, snuffing around like a good hogger, looking for tasty food and water, when an evil cat appears out of nowhere, No relation says Persnicket, no relation at all. And the evil cat wizard tells the Hog that all he has a spell that he can cast. All the hog need do is learn the best joke in the land. So the hog goes out to the village and asks everyone all about their jokes, and he comes back with a good one. He tells the Cat his joke and the cat Laughs, the cat actually laughs so hard that he snorts.... The cat wizard tells him that it was the fairest joke in all the land. But that's not the end of the spell, oh no. There were still 5 more parts to the spell. The second thing that he'd need from Dartanian was the smelliest flower in all the forest. Dartanian runs back to the village and is told by a little shrewwifey that she has the smelliest flowers. She gives him one to take back to the Cat, and Dartanian can smell the thing all the way there. Once it's in the Wizard's hands though, it causes him to sneeze a little... at first, but before the wizard knows it he's blowing sneezes that could take the roof off'a yer abode! And he's coughing too. Next he tells the Hog that he needs the tastiest fruit in all the forest. So the hog goes back to the village and asks all the creatures there about the tastiest fruits... he comes back with a purple berry, which he gives to the wizard. The cat says 'it's a pretty purple berry.' and then he eats it. At first it is so sour, that his whole face puckers up... and then he starts to hiccup and burp. The Cat's face was so tender that he felt he needed some cheering up. After a drink of water he asked Dartanian if he knew of any good dances that the villagers were doing these days. Of course the Hog did not, so he ran all the way back to the village, where an old ferret taught him to jig, and a raccoon taught him to waltz. He ran back to the cat to show him, and when the cat saw how well the hog danced, he began to dance himself! The cat said 'Now we've laughed, we've danced, we've had good food... but we will never really know happiness unless we have something to compare it to. We need a sad tale, something that gets down into our hearts and tears through our emotions.' Dartanian, of course, had never really known any sorrow other than lonliness, so he ran back to the village where he learned a few stories... a shrew who's husband was dead of a fever... a songbird with no voice... a turtle who's shell had cracked and chipped away to nothing... many stories of hardship... but it was the story of a mousemaid who only knew her sister, and one day, her sister was taken from her, never to be seen again that got the wizard. He cried and cried... he sobbed until his head hurt, and then he looked at the smelliest flower and he could see, by comparison how pretty the smelly flower was... he may have sneezed once, but he smiled at the flower and sighed. Last, but not least, the Cat wanted to know what true bravery was. How could one stand up to a foe and keep an air of heroics about him in the face of danger? Dartanian did not know, for he had never been attacked, for he was way too ugly a creature. He, yep, you guessed it... he ran back to the village, where an old Mouse Warrior taught him to growl... not just little growls, but proper, soul wrenching, tiger eating, right from the gut growls. When the Hog got back to the Cat, and started to growl, the cat was impressed. He asked the Hog to roar for him, and Dartanian was in such a great mood that he roared right there and there at the top of his warthog lungs.
Oh, he was on to her.
Toki circled the crowd behind Amelia, and eventually joined the group on the stage, where she was more than compliant as Bale reorganized the children, and politely shouted her name as it was requested of her. She waited, shifting from foot to foot, as Bale continued down the line of children, and was quite literally bouncing up and down when the story began. This was quite possibly the most exciting moment of her life.
She listened, enraptured, as Bale wound his tale. "...and he comes back with a good one. He tells the Cat his joke and the cat Laughs, the cat actually laughs so hard that he snorts..." The rabbit turned a pointed eye her way, and Toki inhaled sharply, excited. That was her cue! A joke ran through her head--an excellent joke involving an unfortunate relationship between a grorglsdorf and a burfalump--, but, unfortunately, the joke was too good. Before she could ever reveal her joke to end all jokes to the audience, Toki doubled over in a fit of giggles, which quickly escalated to outrageous roaring laughter. Laughing fit to burst, tears brimming in her eyes, Toki made a desperate attempt to compose herself to actually tell the joke.
And dissolved again. "Tsstsstsssheheheheeeehaaaahahahahaa~!"
As the mousemaid dropped to sit on the stage, all but rolling with laughter, Burrik, sitting among the audience, wrinkled his nose and shouted up at her. "Gorratella choke furse, Tokiiiii!" Oh well, it was her lost. Toki had lost her moment, but that didn't mean Burrik had to lose his. The little mouse had lucked out; while Toki rolled about giggling as Bale went on with the story, Burrik was able to react to each new point of emphasis.
He sneezed , but found that it tickled his nose and he wasn't very fond of it, so he stopped that fairly soon.
He squished up his face, puckering his lips at the group on stage, and promptly dissolved in giggles of his own. Here was some acting he could get behind!
Dancing was less fun, with no music to dance to and other children bumping in to him, and crying was no fun at all; Burrik was far too happy to cry, or even to pretend to cry--and crying was somewhat difficult to force for a young mouse who rarely if ever engaged in the act.
Growling and roaring was somewhat fun, until a big squirrel roared in his ear; then it was just noisy.
Eventually, Burrik returned to his seat and puckered up his lips again, only to break into giggles once more. Yes, that was definitely his favorite.
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Posted: Fri Mar 18, 2011 7:39 pm
Quote:  There is a sign nailed to a tree that says "The Wooden Stage Bar. I doubt that Bale will be too happy about that. You've decided to come to Milligan's annual Green Day Drink Down... you know why too, you want to win that epic bottle of Milligans Green Day Super Ale that you've all come to know and love. Maybe you want it so that you can drink it... maybe you want it so that you can trade it... who knows... all you know is that you really really really really want to win it. Milligan the hedgehog at the bar (which is made up of stacked crates) walks around all the makeshift tables that you are all sitting at. The whole place is open air, set up in the middle of the woods, and you can feel the cool breezes of spring running across your fur (scales?). Before you know it, Milligan himself comes around and places small shot glasses full of noxious green liquid in front of all of you. Some of the glasses are wood and tall, some are ceramic and round, some are strange bubbly glasses that are short and fat... really though, even with all that variation in shape and colour, it's the green liquid that catches your attention. This... This green goop is not the Super Ale you're trying to win. No, this is fondly referred to by all StoneCrestians as "Pure Leaf"... and it'll punch you in the face, loosen your teeth, and leave you feeling like you've been chewed up and spit out by a Wild boar with gingivitis... but *wheezegaspdie* it's GOOD STUFF! You stare at it for a second... and before you get a chance to think about it, Milligan reaches up and rings a bronze bell as big as your head. "ROUND ONE! DRINK TILL YOU DROP" he calls out in his husky voice. You know how this works. ------- Roll a d-20. Then go back and edit your post according to this ladder:: 1 or 2 - You pass out. Game over. 3 or 4 - It goes down HARSH! 5 - 15 - It could have been worse, bring on round two... 15 - 20 - What ale? Why's everyone gasping?
Rolled: 5, 18, 7, 14))
Oh, this would be a day to remember. Toki had heard the most amazing tales about Milligan's Annual Green Day Drink Down. Why, the event was absolutely legendary. And this season, well, this season she was around and able to participate! The little mousemaid literally dragged her companion behind her as she hurried to claim a spot on one of the benches. She elbowed away a big cat and plopped into the remaining space on one bench, dragging Burrik down to sit beside her before the large tomcat could attempt as much. The fatty fat fat would probably squish her if her tried, she thought, giving him the stink eye until he and the also fatty fat lizard he was with wandered off to find alternative seating.
At her side, Burrik stared after the cat with a considerably higher level of apprehension. "Hessa biggun, Toke. Gonna ea'chaup."
"Phhhhbbbt." Tokie responded by blowing a raspberry, eyes meanwhile down the bench where Milligan himself was already making his rounds. "He's here f' drinks, not dinner. Here's ours!" she crowed as she accepted a short, broad glass filled to the brim with the thick green goop. Toki's cackles as she peered down into the glass were possibly more menacing than the goop itself.
Burrik, on the other hand, was considerably less impressed with the pile of sludge in his own taller, thinner glass. He frowned after the hedgehog, then frowned over at Toki. "Norra gonna drink dis, s'poysnus."
"Phhhhbbbt," Toki repeated with a shake of her head. Apparently, she had a new favorite phrase. "It's really good, see?" Without further ado, the mousemaid tossed back her glass and downed the lot of the goopy liquid. Her eyes stung and her throat felt like it had a firefly living in it, but Toki managed a cheeky grin and only a minimal cough in response. "See?" she preened. "Nothin' to it."
The younger mouse, still terribly skeptical, nonetheless tried a sip of his own beverage. He didn't take the entire shot at once, but enjoyed it as several small sips--and this way, yes, it was pleasant in a disgusting sort of way. Sort of bubbly and firey, it made his stomach feel warm. Burrik quickly decided that he liked the concoction and nodded, pleased, as he finished off his own glass without any effort whatsoever.
((Still need to edit in the others, BRB))
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Posted: Fri Mar 18, 2011 7:41 pm
Quote: Time for ROUND TWO!!Milligan, the hedgehog at the bar, (which is made up of stacked crates) walks around all the makeshift tables that you are all sitting at, and places a another round of small shot glasses full of noxious green liquid in front of all of you. You noticed that at least one other creature in the contest has passed out, and you think you might have this in the bag. You're even more glad it isn't you when Milligan walks up to the little mouse and stuffs a small cork in between his teeth to keep his mouth open and keep him breathing while he's passed out. You stare at your 'drink' for a second... and again, before you get a chance to think about it, Milligan arrives back up at the bar and rings a bronze bell as big as your head. "ROUND TWO! DRINK TILL YOU DROP" he calls out in his husky voice. You know how this works. ------- Roll a d-20. Then go back and edit your post according to this ladder:: (1 -5) - You pass out. Game over. (7 - 8 ) - It goes down HARSH! You're starting to feel... woozy... (9 - 13) It could have been worse, maybe some round three? (14 - 18 ) - I can do this... I got this handled (18 - 20) - Seriously? Am I drinking the same thing as that mouse was?
((Again, Toki, Burrik, Fluffikins, Hudson.
Rolled: 16, 16, 19, 2))
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Posted: Fri Mar 18, 2011 7:44 pm
Quote: Time for ROUND THREE!!Milligan, the hedgehog at the bar, (which is made up of stacked crates) walks around all the makeshift tables that you are all sitting at, and places a another round of small shot glasses full of noxious green liquid in front of all of you. You noticed that this time, several other creatures in the contest have passed out. You take a moment to wonder why Milligan huffs and puffs around the tables stuffing corks in between their teeth, but you imagine that it's to make sure the unconscious animals all have a good breathing passage while they're passed out... and hey! These corks are usually from a good wine bottle, and can be collector's items. You stare at your 'drink' for a second... and again, before you get a chance to think about it, Milligan arrives back up at the bar and rings a bronze bell as big as your head. "ROUND THREE! DRINK TILL YOU DROP" he calls out in his husky voice. You know how this works. ------- Roll a d-20. Then go back and edit your post according to this ladder:: (1 - 8 ) - You pass out. Game over. (9 - 10 ) - It goes down HARSH! You'sh Shtarting to get... smmm... haaassss... Wassa word? (11 - 14) How can this be worse? ... No more... no more please... okay, one more... (15 - 18 ) - This... that.... I can't.... Yeah... Hey, you're hot suddenly! Wanna... ??? (19 - 20) - I'm A SUPER HERO DRINKER! Seriously! Where's that thrift store stand? I need some underwear to wear outside my pants here.
Rolled: 20, 20, 7))
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Posted: Fri Mar 18, 2011 7:46 pm
Quote: Time for ROUND FOUR!!Milligan, the hedgehog at the bar, (which is made up of stacked crates) walks around all the makeshift tables that you are all sitting at, and places a another round of small shot glasses full of noxious green liquid in front of all of you. You noticed that this time, several other creatures in the contest have passed out. You don't even bother keeping count this time, as Milligan huffs around the tables and stuffs corks into teeth... there's quite a few creatures out this time. You stare at your 'drink' for a second... You realize you're too muddy in the head to think when Milligan arrives back up at the bar and rings a bronze bell as big as your head. "ROUND FOUR! DRINK TILL YOU DROP" he calls out in his husky voice. You know how this works. ------- Roll a d-20. Then go back and edit your post according to this ladder:: (1 - 10 ) - You pass out. Game over. (11 -13 ) - Pleash... no *hic* more. I cansht take it anymores. (14 - 17) *Hic* hey there... *hic* perrty lady birdie boyo me pal. (18 - 19 ) What? I'm sorry.... I'm getttin shhhhleepy. (20) - Dun dun da daahhhh duh duht du da daaa! I hear singing... what do you mean get off the bar? You talking to me? I'm not on the... how'd I get on the bar?
Rolled: 5, 17))
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Posted: Fri Mar 18, 2011 7:51 pm
Quote: Time for ROUND FIVE!!Milligan, the hedgehog at the bar, (which is made up of stacked crates) walks around all the makeshift tables that you are all sitting at, and places a another round of small shot glasses full of noxious green liquid in front of all of you. Everyone is passed out except for 2 hedgehogs, a Bird of Prey, and a Teeny Tiny Mouse boy who seems to be not only pulling his own weight, but also the weight of a few badgers too! You stare at your... wait... where are you again? *DING DING DING* "ROUND FIVE! DRINK TILL YOU DROP" ------- Roll a d-20. Then go back and edit your post according to this ladder:: (1 - 15 ) - You pass out. Game over. (15- 19 ) - "I have... no... idea... what ish goin on. Ish that a cat? ( 20 ) "HOW CAN I BE STRIPPING WHEN I'M NOT WEARING ANY CLOTHES... HUH? TELL ME THAT!"
Rolled a 13 and WON round 1!))
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