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 Posted: Sun Feb 27, 2011 6:19 pm
The Journal of Skarkiss Shrillskive
Welcome to The Bramble, where the thorns grow thick and unseen eyes are always upon you. Watch your step...
Rules:
- Don't post in here unless you're one of the owners. PM me if you would like to RP or battle :3
- Don't steal Dave's art or my graphics.
Table of Contents
1. Welcome and ToC
2. Skark's Bio
3. Skark's Home
4. RP/Battle Log
5. Storytime
6. Escape from Harrowgate
7. Inventory
8. Reserve
9. Reserve
10. Reserve
11. Reserve
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Posted: Tue Mar 01, 2011 10:46 pm
 
Name: Skarkiss Shrillskive
Species: Loggerhead Shrike
Gender: Male
Clan: Fangroot
Nature: Sadistic and scheming.
Family:
Marellis(mother, missing)
Sirsskit(father, deceased)
Karak(older brother)
Kessela(older sister)
Torlinn(brother, clutchmate)
Cert: [x]
History:
Skark's history is not a pleasant one. Born into a family of thieves and killers, Skark discovered from day one that you can't trust anybody, not even your own nestmates. Out of a clutch of four children, only Skark and his brother reached maturity. Both are still, to this day, at each other's throats.
Raised on the very outskirts of Fangroot, barely part of the clan, the Shrillskive family was comprised of parents Marellis(mother) and Sirsskit(father), and several older siblings who helped to protect their family's territory. Sirsskit never lived to see his second clutch of children reach adulthood. He was caught unawares by a neighboring pair of their own species while attempting to raid their cache, and subsequently impaled upon the thorns. It was a harsh blow to his wife, who'd been successfully protecting an area that included a large bramble thicket near the forest floor alongside her husband for years. The family struggled to raise the new clutch, only two of which survived, Skarkiss and younger brother Torlinn.
The two grew up under the vigilant and harsh guidance of their mother and older siblings, taught to fly with agility, to hunt, kill and impale their prey upon the thorns of the bramble in order to build food caches. Their mother also imparted to her children her great knowledge of poisonous plants, many of which could be found near the dangerous floor of the Fangroot forest. What can kill, what can paralyze, what can heal. The old female shrike disappeared mysteriously one day and hasn't been seen since.
This occurence launched a short-term search effort that culminated in the slaughter of the neighboring pair of shrikes(the same two that had killed their father) as the three brothers sought out Marellis, having thought perhaps that she had suffered the same fate as Sirsskit. Her body was not found anywhere on the neighboring territory, giving Karak and Skark at least some hope that she might still be out there, somewhere.
Skark lives in the same territory he grew up in, helping to protect it alongside his siblings, waiting for his mother to return. Kessela left to find her own fortune in life, leaving Karak to govern the family's land. Each brother holds a corner of the territory, and though relations between the three are somewhat tense, they manage well enough. Though the family of shrikes has never really integrated into the Rooter society fully (even seeing some members as tasty food morsels for the taking), Skark has taken it upon himself to 'socialize' with them, offering many a shady service to those who seek it.
Currently:
Skark is still living in the general area of Fangroot, but the constant bickering of his brothers wears thin on his nerves. Unwilling to stoop to fighting Torlinn for the family territory, Skark has taken to undergoing short trips from home to investigate the world for himself. His brothers could care less, and leave Skark to his own devices, usually. Unbeknownst to his siblings, he will often go hunting for their vanished mother during these trips as well, even though it's been almost a year since her disappearance. Skark keeps several nests around Fangroot, and sometimes flies off to skulk around other forested areas such as Woodhaven and Mossflower.
Personality:
Skark is, to put it simply, a nasty, scheming individual. There is a natural sadism in him that runs in his family, and he takes pleasure in causing pain and disorder. One part of his life is hunting and maintaining the food cache in the family's bramble thicket, a horrid area upon which the three brothers impale and hang their prey so they are able to eat at their leisure. They have a 'friendly' competition every so often to see who can tally up the most kills, and Skark has won on many occasions.
Despite his disregard for other species (he sees almost anything smaller than himself as a potential meal, small birds included), Skark is an opportunist. He provides a sort of service to the Fangroot clan by fetching plants and insects that are otherwise unreachable to those unwilling to make the journey to the forest floor. He wouldn't hesitate to act as a hired killer either, if the pay is good. He has a fondness of objects from near the road, as well as pieces of fabric. Skark is sometimes fascinated by how the smaller creatures interact with one another, especially when they fight.
While his brothers mostly employ strength as a main tactic in hunting, Skark sometimes uses wit and charm to lure possible victims to their doom, taking great amusement from the process. He is often outwardly 'friendly' to strangers if he sees he can use them in any way. He does his best never to be seen by others when he is hunting, and does so far from Fangroot, to avoid arousing suspicion and losing customers. Skark also exhibits a certain degree of loyalty when it comes to family. He regarded his mother with deep respect, and does not spurn his brothers because it's easier to protect a hunting ground with three birds instead of just one.
Points of Interest
- Skark was the one who was closest to their mother, and the sibling who was always most interested in her knowledge of plants and poisons. Because of this close bond with her, he inherited her sea-glass necklace, which is a family heirloom of sorts. It is believed to hold some type of magical property, but Marellis was not around long enough to pass along her knwoledge of it to Skark.
- Skark's mother had an odd accent that Skark and the others picked up from her as they grew up. No one really knows, including Skark, where it came from, because Marellis was a very secretive bird. (It sounds German.)
- Skark also had a somewhat affectionate relationship with his older sister, Kess. Her disposition differed greatly from her siblings, being considerably less aggressive, and Skark misses her, even though they write each other from time to time.
- The three remaining shrike siblings maintain a strained relationship, with Torlinn wishing to take over the territory and attract a mate. Torlinn and Karak are a bit bigger and stronger than Skark, but he's by far the best flyer of the three, and probably the most charismatic as well.
- Though neither Skark or Karak want to believe it, it is thought that their mother has died. Why she left without her belongings is a mystery to them, and Karak refuses to relinquish his responsibility to protect his mother's territory. Torlinn sees this as a foolish endeavor, and wants to start a family of his own without having to move away from their big territory and good hunting ground.
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Posted: Tue Mar 01, 2011 10:51 pm
The Butcher's Lair
Skark's family territory lies on the outer reaches of Fangroot, closer down to the forest floor than most creatures would be comfortable with. There they inhabit a large bramble patch that stretches up from the floor itself, thick and filled with thorns. He keeps his home and cache here, as well as most of his treasures and favorite belongings, as it is the safest and most well-protected. Skark also a second house that's closer to the other Rooters, generally just a place he stays if he wants to try to do business with the other creatures in the tribe. It is a shop of sorts, since he is usually willing to do a job if anyone has something good to trade.
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Posted: Tue Mar 01, 2011 10:59 pm
 Of Friends and Foes For most of his life Skark's social needs have been filled by family. There has been the odd 'client' throughout his travels that the shrike doesn't mind too much, but he's never really been the type to have friends. On occasion he'll forge an alliance, if it is absolutely needed. Enemies, however...
Acquaintances
Allies
Enemies
RP
Let's RP :U Here's some stuff, mostly notes to myself for some basic encounters Skark could have with other creatures. Shoot me a PM if you wanna RP~
- Need something?
If you live in Fangroot and it's something from the forest floor, Skark can probably get it for you. You'd better have something good to give him though, because if you think he's gonna do it for free you're going to be sorely mistaken (this does not mean real 'items' of course, it could be something as simple as food or an offer of services. Rp-like stuff and all, just to clarify).
- Bad guy
Skark is my bad guy, for the most part. If he ever helps someone it's by accident or he's being compensated for it. That said, it's relatively easy to piss him off, and I'd love for him to get into some small confrontations or fights. He's a pretty big grudge holder too, so don't expect him to forget your face if you try to sneak into his house or try to swindle him.
- Unwilling friends
A more light-hearted roleplay idea in which another creature becomes Skark's 'friend'. This will almost definitely be another bird or possibly a bat, seeing as he looks down on most everything else. Maybe he did a job for them and they're -really- grateful. However it happened, it's going to be annoying for Skark, but not to the point where he outright kills the offending party.
RP Log
Active
Finished
Battle Log
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Posted: Tue Mar 01, 2011 11:18 pm
Story Time with Marellis Like all good mothers, Marellis told her children stories to help them get to sleep. There is one story in particular that she liked to tell that describes their species origin in a folktale. Skark has taken it upon himself to remember this tale, and it is very dear to him.
How Shrike Came to Be
A long time ago, there was a young songbird who was very beautiful. She had silver feathers all down her back, and she never sang the same song twice. Sometimes she even imitated her neighbors, but she sang so beautifully that they did not truly mind. Because of this habit of hers, they called her Mockingbird.
It came to pass that Mockingbird saw Hawk one morning, circling high above a field. After watching him hunt for a time, she began to admire him and his graceful speed, and his ability to catch the snakes that often stole eggs from songbird's nests. "What a fine, strong creature Hawk is." she would say to herself in-between songs. What intrigued her even more was that, try as she might, she could not imitate his calls.
Mockingbird became so enamored with Hawk that she decided to make an effort to approach him. Her family warned against it. "Hawk does not only feed upon the snakes and mice," said they, "he will not hesitate to sup upon smaller birds if he so chooses. It is common knowledge that a union between predator and prey is doomed to fail, one way or another."
But Mockingbird would not have any of that. Disregarding her family's discouraging words, she sought out Hawk one morning at a flat spot on the river where many birds went to drink and bathe. Finding him perched above the water, she landed nearby and began to sing for him the most beautiful love song that she could muster.
Hawk was caught off guard by this display, instantly recognizing the songbird and her melodic voice, for she was well known across the land for it. That it was meant for him was even more surprising, but her song was so captivating that he could not keep himself from falling instantly in love with her.
Come fall they had built a nest together, and by the time spring came, Mockingbird had laid a single beautiful egg which both parents protected fiercely. Hawk, it seemed, was a wonderful husband, for he taught Mockingbird the fearless way in which his own kind protected their nests. It is said that this is how mockingbirds came to be so fierce during nesting season.
When the child hatched, the parents rejoiced, and were overjoyed to find that he shared characteristics of both of them. He had the small, agile frame and silver feathers of his mother and the strong, hooked beak and keen eyesight of his father. His song, it seemed, was a strange combination of both parents' calls, so they named him Shrike, which means 'shrieking song' in the language of the birds. They loved him dearly, and under his parent's watchful eyes he grew into a clever young bird who could sing and had a knack for hunting, much to the pride of his father. The three of them were very happy together.
However, this happiness was not to last, just as their families had foretold. For one day, Sparrow's wife darted through the forest, sounding her shrill alarm. "Help me, help me, my poor husband is no more!" she cried sorrowfully, and all of the birds came forth to see what had happened.
Who else could it have been but young Shrike, who was standing over his prey in a clearing with a look of great confusion as everyone scolded and scorned. "I have done nothing wrong, it is the way of my father and his father before him to hunt the smaller creatures." he claimed without guilt, until the Great Eagle came forth and everyone fell silent. Eagle was one of the wisest animals in the forest, the King of all Birds, and what he said was the law.
"Shrike, you have felled your fellow songbird, your own kin, and for this you must be punished. You shall be exiled, unable to fit in with neither songbirds, who you will always see as food, nor raptors, who may see you as their own prey and will never accept you as their own. Begone from this forest, my decision is final." His father cried out in anger, and his mother wept with a deep sadness, but no amount of protest or begging could make the great Eagle change his mind.
So it came to be that Shrike left the forest, and set out into the meadows and the deserts with a bitter heart. Being a resourceful creature, he quickly adapted to his new home, but his bitterness grew with each passing day. It is said that the way in which the Shrike impales his prey upon the cruel thorns of the bramble is an act of vengeance and rage for his lonely fate. The habit persists to this day, as he is destined to live in the thorn thickets, left to forge a new way for himself in solitude.
((written by Kami <3))
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Posted: Tue Mar 01, 2011 11:21 pm
Abducted; Skark's Escape from Harrogate 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. Drip, drip, drip.
A deep shuddering sigh heaved from the grey and white pile of feathers as the bird began to stir. One foot moved, scrabbling and twitching uncomfortably against the dankly packed earth of wherever he was. Skark's eyes were squeezed shut tightly before they ever opened as his mind clung to the darkness. He could hear a familiar voice. His mother, perhaps? Or Kess. They sounded so much alike that he always used to get them confused. These addled thoughts fueled his movements, and he chirred softly, murmuring into the earthy floor of the cell.
"Kessy? Vhere...ngh...vhere are you." his voice came out in a hurt whisper, and he rolled over. Or at least, Skark tried to. The cell was so cramped that he was pressed against the opposite side now as he struggled into consciousness. He could hear them, both of them, talking. Mother! Was mother back? His heart fluttered at the prospect, but a soft, incessant sound continued to interrupt these visions, sending ripples through them and scrambling the words so he could hardly tell what was going on. His wings flapped feebly once or twice, subconsciously trying to move the inert bird closer to the sounds of the voices in his head. He whimpered in frustration, claws scraping into the dirt.
Drip...drip, -drip-.
Skark's new position had exposed him to the noisy leak in the cell. It only took a few drops against his face and beak before his black eyes, dull and glassy from the pain of his aching head, rolled open. A split second passed before the rush of adrenaline hit, and Skark realized that he was not on the makeshift roost he'd drifted off on last night. The shrike moved sluggishly at first, but he was on his feet in moments, wobbling uneasily. His head hurt. A shrill, angry call burst from his throat, raspy and harsh, and full of anger. Where was he? What was this -nonsense-!? Skark fluttered, wings battering against the walls, and against the wooden bars of his prison. He lashed out with his beak, scoring the wood in several places with its sharp tip. A hiss emitted from his throat when someone called out angrily from around the corner, for him to 'can it', and his feathers fluffed out in his rage. He was about to make a menacing retort, but the same voice continued on in a quiet conversation, no doubt with another unseen captor. The shrike contained himself to try and get his bearings, and to listen.
" -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."
Skark exhaled with a huff, and clacked his beak, fury washing over him in waves. Someone planned to eat him, did they? WELL. Not if he could help it. He was used to eating people, not the other way around. He hopped from one end of the cell to the other, inspecting it top to bottom, front to back, his mind racing. Those voices. They sounded like squirrels, and that only put more wood on his fire. He hated squirrels. Nosy, mischief-making thieves, fast-as-lightning, so that you had to work extra hard to catch them.
The last straw was pulled when he finally noticed that he was missing the shawl that he always wore. HIS FAVORITE SHAWL. GONE. The squirrels had it, he knew it. Another furious screech rattled out from Skark's throat before he could stop himself. There was a soft scuffling of feet, and now his jailors were rounding the corner, scowling as menacingly as two puff-tailed poofters(that's what Skark saw them as, anyway) could manage.
"S'all the racket then, 'ay? Keep that bloody beak 'o yours shut or we'll shut it again for ya. Must not'a smacked 'im hard enough the first time." the bigger squirrel let out an obnoxious chuckle. His fur was a striking autumn red and he had tall, tufted ears, and a smug look on his face that made Skark burn on the inside. His friend, slightly smaller, and gray-colored, giggled in response.
Action needed to be taken. Skark let his feathers smooth back down. He let his features soften. Even though the venomous gleam in his shining obsidian eyes would never fully extinguish, he took on a different air altogether. "Aah, many apologies, sirs. I vas startled, you see. Vhere is this place that we are now, if you do not mind to tell?" the shrike batted his eyelashes softly, and cocked his head in a way he imagined would be innocent-looking and quizzical in appearance. Asking the questions in his most silky-velvet voice. It was something he prided himself on greatly. Neither of his bumbling brothers would ever have a way with words like he did.
The squirrels looked at each other, and the red one gave a mean grin. "'Fraid that's classified, birdy. You'll find out soon enough though, I'm sure." the squirrels tittered again stupidly, and Skark smiled along with them, readjusting his wings.
"Vhat are a couple of strapping creatures like yourselves doing down here, being lowly guards squvirrels? I can offer you handsome gents something much more, how ve say...revwarding, if you help me to escape." Skark said in a hushed tone, his eyes narrowing secretively as the squirrels drew closer to the bars. Their eyes were shining with that usual squirrel greed and curiosity. That's what you really had to do, bait them with something tasty, and then they'd come running headlong into the trap, usually without a second thought.
The red one seemed duly flattered by the bird's compliments, but he heaved a wistful sigh, and smirked wickedly. "S'gonna have ta be a pretty good offer, bird. Ya think ya can top what we're gettin' fa this job, and I don't see how ya can do that. My a**'d be grass if you got away." his grey companion snorted in amusement at the phrase.
Skark murmured a crestfallen 'hum', and he shut his eyes for a moment, as if to accept his fate. "Vell then, I see how it must be. The two of you are dedicated, yes? Still, you should let an old doomed bird tell his last secrets to somevone, so that they vill not go wasted. Come, come here, closer." he watched them, letting his rage bubble back up to the surface. He could see that they were stubborn, too stubborn to ever be talked into opening the door. He'd have to find another way out, but not before he schooled that red dandy.
The red-furred guard, smug grin plastered to his face, bravely drew near to the bars as Skark made to tell him the secret. But instead of gaining a secret, the squirrel lost something instead, for as soon as his face and neck were within grabbing range the shrike had reached through to yank him up against the bars and bite down onto the squirrel's ear with his wicked hooked beak.
"AUGH, NO, NO, LEMME GO!!! GET IT OFF, GET 'IM OFF'A ME! AAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!"
The resulting shriek of agony was like music to Skark. He shredded the creature's ear to bloody ribbons before the obnoxious rodent managed to squirm away, assisted by his terrified friend. Both of them rushed away from the cell and out of sight. Skark proceeded to flutter and batter against the door and walls once more, his strident calls echoing like horrid, mirthless laughter through the dungeon in which he was trapped. He laughed at what he had done, and he laughed at the sound of scuffling feet and angry voices down the hall. Whatever this place was, whoever was out there, let them come. Skarkiss would find his way out, regardless of what obstacles there were.Well 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... Two new squirrels had returned after a short time. Two very -angry- new squirrels, and they were not the least bit forgiving of Skark's aggressive advance on their friend, who'd just happened to be their captain. Skark had fought against them fervently, but in the end, long clubs always win against claws and a beak that cannot reach. The shrike gave a piercing cry as the squirrels finally felled him with several good whacks, causing the wicked bird to crumple back into an unmoving heap of feathers on the dank cell floor.
"That's enough, lads. Can't have 'im dying before he gets to Farrah, she'd have a right fit." the squirrel spat in disgust, and that was the last thing Skark heard before everything faded to black once more.
~~~~~~~
Skark exhaled harshly. It was not the drip-drip of the leaky ceiling that woke him this time, but the pain in his body and head, and the strange sensation of being moved and touched in a less than gentle fashion. In the back of his mind, his temper began to stir up again. He was not used to being in pain like this, or being caught off guard by something he so often killed and ate. It was infuriating. That's what he got for falling asleep in a strange place, he supposed. Still, the audacity of their actions was enough to make his feathers stand on end. He was no silly weakling songbird. He would just have to teach them. All these vengeful thoughts swam about in dim circles within his mind as he slowly drifted into a more conscious state.
"Bleh. Don't see why -we- gotta do this job. Didja see what this little monster did ta Ferny?" a rather annoying female voice complained.
"Aw, quit yer belly-achin'. He's out cold, see? 'E won't be tearin' at no one's ears much after today, that's fer sure. Ol' Farrah'll make sure of that." came the response, followed by a dark chuckle.
Skark's eyes nearly shot open as the creatures who were touching him grabbed his ankles, and began to drag. He caught himself, and did the best knocked-out bird impression he could muster. This wasn't something he'd ever done before, but Skark was a fairly good improviser. They pulled him out of his earthen prison, and into a hallway, which was just as earthy, by the smell of it, carelessly bumping the back of his aching head against the threshold in the process. This was rather peculiar, he suddenly realized. What were a bunch of tree-hoppers doing underground? The red one had not even vaguely resembled a ground squirrel, in appearance or disposition. The shrike disregarded the puzzling thought after a moment, finding it irrelevant to the current situation. Though his head hurt horribly, he was glad to be conscious. The squirrels were tricked, and he had the upper hand once again.
Remaining limp, Skark cracked his eyes open to slits, peering through the black mask that all his kind wore. Immediately he was forced to squeeze them shut again when a bright light flashed in his eyes. A few moments passed before he could see another patch of light behind his eyelids, and he opened them carefully, squinting. Yes, it was sunlight! They couldn't be that far underground if there were openings in the ceiling with light coming through. Now was the time to act, Skark decided, while he was alone with these two little savages in the seemingly empty hallway. He hoped it was empty, at any rate. He couldn't hear any footsteps behind him.
So, Skark lashed out as fiercely as he could, and with minimal noise. He sat up abruptly, and began to beat his sore wings, which startled one of the squirrels so badly that she nearly leapt out of her skin, and fell against the wall in a furry heap. The other yelled out in anger, but Skark lurched forward in a flurry to peck his face, slicing the bridge of his nose open and sending him tumbling back as the shrike shoved him aside to get past. He had been sorely tempted to stay behind and wreak further painful vengeance upon his two fiendish captors, but the yell seemed to have caught someone's attention. He could hear feet scuffling hurriedly over the floor somewhere close by, further fueled by the cries of pain coming from the squirrel he'd just injured. Freedom was in his sights, and he half fluttered, half hopped, making a frenzied dart for the door ahead that glowed with the promise of escape.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. Skark was disgusted in several ways when he reached what he'd THOUGHT was a sun-lit doorway. It was, in fact, not a doorway to the outside, but a room that was lit by a massive fire. It was huge, and the scene that met the shrike's eyes inspired a second wave of revulsion. There they were, a whole slew of them, hopping and dancing around a big bonfire like the little savages they were. The whole situation was still hugely perplexing to the shrike, who was used to knowing how most things worked in the world. What were they doing down here? Why were they roasting something that would have tasted fine raw? And who the hell was Ferrah, come to think of it? Their filthy squirrel leader, no doubt.
Skark sneered as he crept in through the back door, seeing that they were far too absorbed in their dark little ritual to notice much else. He had to do something, and when he spied the door across the room, he knew where he needed to go. The hallway behind him only lead back to cells. He took a moment to survey the scene, and study the room. No use acting impulsively and getting trapped again, that was for sure. Fire, squirrels...and suddenly it dawned on the shrike that the creature tied over the fire was not a squirrel or a mouse or anything like that. Why, it was another bird, one much smaller than he was, with plain brown feathers. Hardly a meal that would feed everyone in the room. He couldn't care less of her, but her shrill, panicked cries were grating on his still-aching head. He needed to find a way to distract these cretins so he could get to that side door.
Seeing something to his left, he crept over to investigate. There were three acorns leaned against the back well. One of them was uncapped, revealing an odd, almost-smelly liquid substance within its hollowed out core. He realized immediately that it was some kind of oil. Squirrels, smart enough to use oil? The surprises kept on coming. But so did his horrible ideas. A nasty little sneer crept across his face, and his devilish eyes shone. He picked up one of the closed acorn containers, shook it first to be sure it was full of the same liquid, and was rewarded with the soft slush of the oil inside. This ought to be fun. Sitting back on one foot, he used the other to lob the acorn across the room, over the many furry little heads, and directly into their bonfire.
It took a moment to get a result, but the miniature explosion that followed was magnificent. There was the thunk of the acorn, which remained capped shut for a split second, followed by a great crack-WHOOSH as the thing exploded in the heat of the fire. The fire billowed out, nearly swallowing up the first row of squirrels, whose fur revealed itself to be very flammable indeed. The room instantly descended into much different tone of frantic dancing as the burning squirrels shrieked and flopped about, managing to catch others on fire. Skark wasted no time. He jumped into the fray on his way to the door, pecking viciously the faces of anyone in his way. When he was halfway through, he just happened to see the little tied bird, who had somehow managed to avoid the little explosion he had created. Her spit had fallen away from the fire, probably knocked down by one of the burnt squirrels. Perhaps, he thought, it would not be so bad to drag her along. It wouldn't take but two seconds to shred her bonds.
Skark did just that, with only the thought of having a useful tool at his disposal as his motivation. He hopped upon the ropes, and severed them with his beak, freeing the caught bird. She fell over in shock, and he rousted her with several light pecks to the side. "Come, hurry. Ve must hurry." he snapped. She obliged, wiggling to her feet and fluffing out her feathers. "M'scared. Who're you? Do you know the way out?" she asked, chirping softly. He swatted her with one wing, and hopped quickly onwards, to where the door was. "Shush. Come." he commanded simply. The little sparrow followed on unsteady feet, but she seemed to recover the more she moved about.
Skark lead the way down the hall, making a sharp turn as he suddenly picked up a familiar sound. Could that be...? Was it...yes, yes it was! He could see faint rays of light, but even better, he could heard the sound of running water. One more hallway, and there they were, at the mouth of the horrid burrow. The shrike could not help but suck in a deep breath of fresh air and take a moment to enjoy the sights and sounds of the freedom he'd worked so hard for. The sparrow simply sat back, seeming happy for a rest.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!The sudden sound of angry chattering behind them told Skark that he didn't really have the time to rest. He hopped forward quickly when the sound reached his ears, and the little sparrow followed right behind him, not having to be told. His shining black eyes scanned the river before them and quickly fell upon the raft. It seemed almost too perfect, as if it were a trap, but his wings and body ached. It would be good to float down away from these horrid rodents before he had to fly anywhere again. Taking another quick glance upwards, he suddenly recognized the place even better. Yes, he'd been in the area that night, before they had kidnapped him. At least it'd be relatively easy to find his way back to Fangroot. Boy, if anyone ever found out that he had been kidnapped by tree-leapers, he'd never live it down, even if he -had- set quite a few on fire.
He hopped down to the river side, and dragged the raft to the water with the help of his tiny brown companion, who was oddly silent. She was just as focused as getting away as he was, really, and soon, they were both on the raft, in the water, speeding away on the current. With no time to spare either, as several enraged, singed up squirrels poured out from the hole of the big burrow, screaming and cursing. He snorted, and settled down on the damp floor of the primitively constructed craft to catch his breath. "Watch our back. Make sure zhey do not follow." he said in his dark voice, giving the sparrow the eye. She blinked nervously, and turned to watch their back, while he kept watch on where they were headed.
Skark almost expected something else horrible to happen, for something to be waiting for them downstream...but nothing came, and after a while, he started to relax. This had been one of the most harrowing ordeals he'd lived through in some time, and he'd lost his favorite shawl out of it. It angered him a great deal, but he'd just have to find the mouse who'd done it before and have her sew another clasp on a different piece of fabric. There was no way he would ever get his old one from the squirrels. He heaved a sigh, and then glanced back to the sparrow, who was still doing what he'd told her to do, though she looked very tired. He was hit with the sudden strong temptation to take her life and make a meal out of her, but he decided not to after a moment, narrowing his eyes. It would take more effort than it was worth to get the body somewhere where he could eat it in safety. No, he'd let this one go, even if she hadn't been particularly useful.
"Thank you, sir. For cutting me loose. I'd have died, for sure." she finally said in a very soft voice. He sneered to himself, and looked back at her with a grim light in his eyes.
"Have to be careful in the future. Something vorse vill get you, next time." he inwardly relished the fearful look that came to the sparrow's eyes, and then stood, stretching his sore, but not unusable, wings. "I am leaving now. Farevell, little one." he said, and took off from the boat, leaving the little sparrow to her own fate. As he sped upwards and above the treeline, he breathed a true sigh of relief, knowing that no one could touch him up in the sky.
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Posted: Tue Mar 08, 2011 6:32 pm
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Posted: Tue Mar 08, 2011 7:22 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 09, 2011 8:01 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 09, 2011 8:33 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 09, 2011 8:38 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 09, 2011 8:39 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 09, 2011 8:41 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 09, 2011 8:44 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 09, 2011 8:52 pm
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