Since Spot is a badger, I'm not exactly sure what the base stats for his species should be. I'm going to go on a wing and say that body would probably be their highest base stat because badgers are tough. Really, really f'n tough. And their head are shaped like wedges.
So Badger stats:
4 - Body :: 4 - Mind :: 2 - Soul
Although Spot is a wanderer at heart, he'll settle in Fleuve and receive +1 Soul and -1 Body.
Plus adjustments for his personality, final stats will be:
5 - Body :: 8 - Mind :: 4 - Soul
Quote:
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.
The world was a blur for a few minutes while Spot slowly came to. Whatever happened, must have happened hard because usually nothing could put a dent in his thick skull, especially one that hurt as much as this.
Out of more instinct and less because he wanted to, Spot reached into his pocket to grab his tobacco leaves so that he could roll a cigar and un-foggy his mind. "Hum, not in this pocket. Maybe I slipped it into the other one by accident..." he thought as the slow patting of the pockets sped up and then became frantic. Gone. His eyes went wide, and he wasn't groggy anymore. Spot was downright angry.
Not only had he been bashed in the head, but they took his smoking kit and his two lucky six-sided dice to boot. His pockets were completely empty. Those bastards.
His inner conflict about how he wanted to go about ripping everything to shreds (the current leading choice was to fillet the thief and roast him on a spigot, and then pair him with a fine red wine while a minstrel played soothing songs on his mandolin) was louder than the conversation going on down the hallway. Spot realized in hindsight that he really should have been listening more closely to find out what was going on. He seemed to have missed most of the conversation, but he did catch the last bit about being eaten.
He rubbed his paws over his eyes wearily, "What the hell? I'm supposed to be the one doing the eating. What carnivore eats other carnivores?"
"'Ay, I think our guest is awake!" one of the voices called out. Two squirrels padded over to the cage, but were smart enough to stay out of claw's reach. "Did Sleeping Beauty 'ere get 'is beauty rest?"
Spot snarled as the they laughed at him. This day was getting more annoying by the minute.
Since he clearly wasn't going to be able to force his way out of here, it was time for Spot to turn on the charm. "Say, you two weren't what I was expecting..."
One squirrel, apparently the smarter of the two, elbowed his companion to stop laughing. "An' wha's that supposed to mean?" he said as they both stared the badger down.
"What I mean is I wasn't expecting two squirrels that look as capable as you both do to be doing lowly grunt work. I was expecting to be greeted by some scruffy, unkempt types, but I do have to say that both of you look like more the leader-type and not the lackey."
"It was about time that someone noticed the work I put into my grooming," the second squirrel said before being elbowed in the ribs by his companion again.
"Quiet!", Smarty said before turning his attention back to Spot. "Don think that'll work on us! Ferrah needs a meal, and it ain't gon' be us; it's gon' be you."
Unfazed by that last part, Spot continued, "Well, see no one needs to be fed to Ferrah. Ferrah should go out and get their own food instead of making you guys to their work for them. Meanwhile, you should be relaxing in a great oak tree somewhere while ladies feed you nuts and berries. You guys are the brains of the operation, but this Ferrah is reaping the benefits." He paused for a moment and then added for good measure, "Besides, I wouldn't make a good meal. I'd taste gamy."
Spot's words were obviously working as he could see the gears turning in their heads and his words sinking in. If he kept pushing, he bet that they'd crack. He was tilting the house's odds in his favor on this one.
"So, why don't you two nice fellas unlock my cell, give me back my stuff, and then we can all just leave together. Abandon this racket, and go out and work for yourselves. You don't need to live under the control of some bloated tyrant who's too lazy to catch their own food. You two should be the top of your own food chain."
The second squirrel shrugged, and reached for the jail keys, "He has a point you know." Smarty watched as his companion walked over and opened Spot's cage.
"Thanks man, I owe you one. Let me roll a fine cigar for you to celebrate the start of your new and glorious life" Spot said as he jovially patted the squirrel on the back. The two of them headed down the hallway, and it wasn't long before they could hear the quick footsteps of the other squirrel running to catch up to them.
Quote:
You're out of the cage and making a go-for-broke dash towards what you can only assume is an exit.
Unfortunately, as you round the corner at the end of the hall... you find yourself suddenly at the threshold of a sort of burrow dining hall. Light filters in through a thatched ceiling onto nearly a dozen noshing squirrels, sat at long cut wood tables as they mill away at seed and fruit alike.
"-leaves us no time to get any proper meals of our own, how's she 'aspect us to go catching her anything decent if we're all underf-... eh?" You just manage to catch in on some conversation before they catch sight (or smell) of you.
Think fast!
Options
-Bust some heads and strut through the back door (body) (Dif: 20) (+3 bonus to next round)
-Bust out some moves and dance through this fray to the door, avoiding any conflict. (Body/2 + Int/2, round down) (Dif: 17)
-Peice together the situation and reason that whoever this 'Ferrah' is, maybe they would be better off without them, they join you as you march out the back. (Mind) (Dif: 20) (+3 to next round)
-Put on your poker face and convince them you're not on the menu, slip out through the back (soul) (Dif: 16)
Success: You're out through the back door and confronted with startlingly bright sunlight-
Failure: OH GOD THE PAIN
"Well, if we're going to be traveling companions, I'd say some introductions are in order. I'm Spot, the luckiest badger alive. There's not a bet I won't win. Wooer of women, and owner of a broken heart in every town I've passed through, I like to describe myself as lucky-in-more-than-one-way if you catch my drift." Spot paused and took a deep drag off of his cigar, waiting for some sort of response of awe. There was none.
That was only a tad bit ego crushing. He let out a long sigh, "And you gentlemen are?"
The squirrel that had let him out of the jail cell chimed in first. "My name is Rustle, but only my mum calls me that. My friends call me Russ."
"No," the other squirrel said, "yer friends call you Idiot, and yer dumb 'nuf to answer to it. You shouldn't have given this badger your real name. I still haven't decided if this is just all a test from Ferrah to see if we're loyal or not."
"But Sal...."
"Don't call me by my name! Wha' are ya doin'!?" he said as he smacked Russ in the back of his head.
As fun as this would have been to continue watching, Spot decided to jump in. "Fellas, fellas! Slow down here! I'm not a spy sent here by Ferrah for anything. Alright? Now, I just keep walking down this hallway, and I have no idea where we're going. One of you want to take the lead?"
Of course, Spot had been orating, and when he got into it, he usually closed his eyes while speaking. He thought that it made everything more dramatic when he did that.
Neither of the squirrels responded to him. "Hey, guys?" he said as he turned around and looked at them. Both of the squirrels were frozen in fear; their eyes were wide and they were pointing forward.
"I should turn back around, shouldn't I?" Spot asked and was given a slow nod in response. When he changed the way he was facing again, he was met by the hungry stares of 23 squirrel's eyes (one of the squirrels was sporting an eye patch).
"Well, well, well," one of the squirrels, the one with a loosely tied red bandanna around his waist, said, "looks like Russ and Sal were kind 'nuf to bring a meal to us just as were were wondering what we were gon' have for dinner."
"No, you have the wrong idea here, buddy," Spot said as he nervously rubbed the non-lit end of his cigar with one hand, and fiddled with his dice with the other. "See, the three of us were just on our way out of this joint. We were going to strike out on our own. All of you could come with us too."
Bandanna-man started laughing, and all the other squirrels joined in. It was an eerie effect. "You really expect all of us to turn traitor like those two numb-skulls did and leave here..." He could barely keep his composure, and started laughing harder. "Leave with you?"
This was frustrating. It was a horrible feeling to be laughed at like this. It reminded Spot of a time long ago when he wasn't as ravishingly good looking, but was just as lucky. It reminded him of why he had set out on his own in the first place. Spot ran away from home when he was just a pup without even saying good bye to anyone. He had been outside on a fresh Spring morning, and was shooting craps with some other children from around the neighborhood. It was the hot streak to end all hot streaks, and Spot was cleaning house. Of course, being that children are horrible, mean, and jealous creatures, they accused him of cheating. They didn't believe that he could really be that lucky.
And then when he tried to defend himself, they started to laugh in his face as he nervously stumbled over his words. The more he yelled at them to stop, the harder they teased him. Quickly, the words weren't enough, and they started to beat and scratch and bite him. They took back all the money he had won, and left him there laying in the grass as a broken shell of a person. Once they had been gone for a while, Spot slowly got up. He grabbed the dice they had been playing with, and vowed to never return. Running as fast as his injured body could, he left his home as tears rolled down his face.
These squirrels were bullies who were used to getting what they wanted by cruelty. But above them was Ferrah, who was an even greater bully; she broke their spirits by forcing them to live in fear, and kept them weak by not feeding them enough. Spot wanted to turn and just run again, but he knew that he had to stand up to this large pack of bandits, and tell them to liberate themselves. It had worked with Russ and Sal, and hopefully the rest of them would see the light also.
"Why are you laughing?" Spot asked them as he took a step closer, his eyes full of righteous rage. "Don't you see that you're the fools? Don't you see that Ferrah is the one getting the last laugh?
Look at yourselves. You're grossly malnourished, yet you go out day after day after day after day to get food for someone else. You have to give away prime meats while getting only crumbs in return. You're not Ferrah's employees; you're her slaves, and she's duped you all into believing that this is the way it should be.
I'm going to tell you that it's not. This is not the natural order of things. No animal should be held bounden to another in such a way! Cast off your chains of oppression! Break the bonds that tie you to this monster! Leave with me and start a new life; gain back your self respect and your pride. Do not let yourselves be worn down another day! Do not let this continue any farther! Keep the food you catch for yourself, and carve out your own destiny. Be the master of your own life instead of a slave to another!
Join me, my squirrely brethren, and we will live as our own kings!"
A thunderous applause erupted from the crowd. Something he said must have struck the right cord as they began to push past him, and storm the exit. Spot felt a twinge of pride as he watched them flood out into the sunlight. He smiled and a single tear rolled out of his eye as he began to run after them.
Quote:
Round One Success
Round Two Success
Freedom! Maybe.
Except for the fact you seem to have found yourself on a dense sort of hilly outcropping, all stone and dirt and forest pine somewhere up in what you can only assume is the border between Sunhedge and Breezemoor. It would take a while to get home even if you were as fortunate to find your way and not get caught.
Quietly... stealthily, you creep down the hillside in hopes you won't run into any more of those squirrel guard. Yet... there is something watching you. Something following you. You can just about smell the presence of another and it is a smell that weaves and subsides as it toys with you and your flight from it's lands.
Options
-Pretend like you don't notice before hauling a** up the next high thing you pass. (body) (Dif: 14)
-Make a dash for it! Bob and weave for the love of leaf! (mind) (Dif: 16)
-I'll try and talk it down- whatever it is... (soul) (Dif: 20)
Succeed - You make it to a high place, whether it's a rock or otherwise, and it's by the edge of a rather steep cliff side. Better hold on tight, because whatever it is is down there looking up at you, it's large dark head baring it's teeth at you.
Failure - You don't quite make it to your destination as a quick, dark furred beast pounces you in your retreat. It swipes you aside like a toy and pins you under a heavy paw.
Note If you won over guards before, they get snapped up behind you. You know they say about out swimming sharks... you only have to be faster than the beast swimming with you.
The screams of several squirrels pierced Spot's ears.
"Oh no, oh no, oh no..." he thought,
"this isn't how it's supposed to go!" All of his little companions had been swept away by a large, black paw. Russ, Sal, the squirrel with the bandanna, they were all just
gone. Every last one that he had convinced to have a life of freedom had just met their demise. He hated to see life wasted like that. They weren't innocent souls by any stretch of the imagination, but Spot felt horrible for leading them into slaughter. This was completely his fault.
Still though, there was an upside to this. Grim as though the thought was, the squirrels' deaths had bought him some time. Ferrah would be dealing with them, and that would give him time to make a break for it. It was the selfish thing to do. He knew that, even thought it meant certain death for him, that he really should go back and save whoever he could. Spot couldn't bring himself to do it though. When it came down to it, he was still just a coward running from his problems. He was a useless windbag; all talk with nothing to back it up.
And so he told himself that his running was really the right thing, that doing anything else would mean those squirrels' deaths were in vein. It was partly true, but mostly Spot was just creating a way to cope with his cowardice.
Ignoring the horrible sounds of death, he made a break for the door, and was greeted with fresh air and sunlight. And rocks. Lots and lots of rocks. How did he ever end up here? Spot shook off the thought. Worrying about that right now wasn't going to get him anywhere.
Spot began running. He ran and ran, but but something felt off. There was an ominous feeling around him. Had Ferrah started to chase him? This whole ordeal was getting worse and worse by the minute.
His large claws tearing into the ground, Spot was darting and weaving like a pro. Badgers were not build for speed and grace, and he was no exception. He would have been better tunneling to the other side of the earth than he would have been sprinting. But he must have hit some sort of second wind. Lady Luck was shining on him again blessing him with speed he never thought he had. He would need her continued luck if he was going to get out of this alive.
Up ahead, he saw a large stack of rocks. Jackpot! The incline was steep, and not something just anyone could run up. Spot would be able to do it though, as his powerful claws dug into the stone as he climbed his way to the top. Once there, he noticed that the other side of the rocks were overlooking a large ravine. s**t. It was a dead end -- possibly even literally.
Spot looked back the way he came, panting and out of breath from this whole ordeal. There greeting him was only who he could assume to be Ferrah. Large eyes and a scowling maw stared back at him, and Spot almost jumped out of his skin. No wonder the squirrels had obeyed her every whim! She was downright scary!
With really no place else to go, Spot sat down and began to roll a cigar for himself. There was nothing to do now but play a waiting game to see if Ferrah would give up and go away, or if she would climb her way up to him. Either way, he could really go for a smoke right now.
Quote:
Round 1 SUCCESS
Round 2 SUCCESS
Round 3 SUCCESS
Another look and you realize your pursuer, a wolf. She bares her teeth at you and yelps angrily. "Cursed beast! You dare toy with my pawns? Make a fool out of me? I've had beasts for supper twice your size!" She'd snap and scrape at the foot of your ascent, unable to climb up to your perch- only to be pelted with a barrage of nuts and stones from the trees around you.
Squirrels. Tens of them. "Pawns?! Stupid, fat old wolf, we don't need your protection!" "You're like a mangey ol' leech, eattin' us when we don't feed you yer supper'" "Get off ta the Dead Wood with ya!" Seems rather than accept the fate of having another one of their leaders eaten, your escape has spurned a bit of a revolution. They trade venom as you're left there watching the wolf creep backwards near the cliff side.
What's a beast to do?
Spot nervously peered over the edge of his perch, and Ferrah's snapping jaws leaped at him. His heart was racing as he back-pedaled to the center of his rock. This was horrible. The only thing worse than death was to have to wait for death. The air was thick with that menacing feeling of impending doom yet again. For good measure, Spot filled his lungs with the thick air from his cigar as he fiddled with the dice in his pocket. Nervous habit.
And then, like every evil villain who has the hero on the ropes has to do, the large wolf began to taunt him. Although, Spot really wasn't paying attention to what she was saying; he was reliving the moments of his life in his mind. The badger had had a lot of good times out on the road, but most of what he remembered in this, his final moments, was mostly bad. Until now, Spot had never realized how lonely he had been by himself. If he made it out of here alive, he'd change that. He'd find a place. He'd settle down. He'd have a friend just like how Russ and Sal had each other.
Spot felt ill when he thought of them. It was his fault they were gone, and in a moment, it wasn't going to matter because he was about to die also. He finally learned a life lesson about the importance of friendship, and of course, it was at the end of his life. It was the story of Spot though, a day late and a dollar short.
While he was wallowing in self-pity, Spot's ears perked up at the sound of rustling trees and of nuts hitting something hard. Squirrels! They weren't all dead! They came back to save him!
This was amazing! It was as if he'd been given a second chance. Spot stood up and began to dance because he was so happy. He wasn't very good at it though, so mostly he was just flailing his arms and wobbling his bottom back and forth.
And now, he owed the squirrels the same courage they had just showed him. He owed them the courage he couldn't show earlier.
Spot went down onto all four paws, and sprinted to the edge of his rock. His long claws dug into the stone as he projected himself off into the air, and dove at Ferrah.
It should be noted that badgers are not built for flying. Spot did not look graceful doing this by any stretch of the imagination. If he survived, he would tell this story to everyone who would listen, but he would tell them that he flew as if he was a bird, not that he screamed like a baby mouse as he fell like a rock. It was his war-cry. Definitely his war-cry and not panic at the ground rushing up at him.
His claws were out and ready by the time his fall stopped though. Spot landed on Ferrah, and dug into her flesh. She let out a long howl and bucked to try to get him off. While his front claws held on for dear life, his back legs kicked wildly and tore her pelt to shreds. Ferrah turned her head to bite him, but when she faced him, he had a surprise for her. Spot took the cigar out of his mouth, and put the hot end of it into her left eye.
Ferrah's scream turned purely feral as she bucked even more wildly from the pain. Spot held on tight though, and kept the cigar firmly in her eye socket. Smoke rose out, and there were several disgusting sounding popping noises as her eyeball burned up. The smell was worse than anything Spot had smelled before.
Suddenly, he felt his back end drop down, and then he was facing a wall of rock. It seemed as if Ferrah had backed herself off the cliff in her panic, and he got taken along for the ride. There was only a moment to think. Less than a moment even, there was only a fraction of a second between life and death. Spot let go of the wolf, and frantically grabbed at the edge. His paws were tired from all the work he'd been making them do, and he could feel his grip quickly sliding away. He hung onto the rock with every bit of strength he had left, and hoped it was enough. The last thing he wanted was to tumble down to his demise like Ferrah just had.
As he was beginning to lose hope, Spot felt several sets of little paws grab him. The squirrels were pulling him up! It was a struggle to get his lumpy bod back over the edge and onto solid ground. They did it though; somehow those scruffy critters were deceptively strong.
They cheered wildly. All Spot wanted to do right now was lay here and rest, but the squirrels quickly rose him up to his feet and began to hug him. He hugged back, but he was weak with fatigue.
"I knew ya' were trouble from the moment I saw ya'!" a familiar voice said from out of the mob. Spot couldn't believe his ears. "Are ya' gon jus stare at me, or are ya' gon thank me for saving ya' hide?"
"Trying to take all the credit as usual," a second voice said. "Let him rest a moment."
"Russ? Sal?" Spot asked more to himself than to them. "Russ! Sal! You guys are alive," he said has he threw his arms around them. "I can't believe you guys are alive!"
Sal quickly squirmed out of the badger's hug. He was clearly uncomfortable with the affection. Russ clung tightly though, and his words were almost muffled in Spot's fur, "We figured we owed you one for getting us to see who Ferrah really was."
Letting go of him, Spot smiled a wide and toothy smile. "It wasn't really showing you who Ferrah really was, but more showing you who
you really were. It was something I had to learn myself also."
Sal made gaging noises at how sappy it was getting.
Spot grinned at him. It was as close to acknowledgment that he was going to get out of him, but it was more than enough. "Now let's all go back and break into Ferrah's food supply and celebrate!"
Reply
