| Paradise Lost?; CLASS 2 RP ONLY | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 9 2010, 01:18 AM (407 Views) | |
| Elip S. Quire | Sep 9 2010, 01:18 AM Post #1 |
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-Assistant Club Leader- (Elip as drawn by the AV creator)
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OOC; this quest will be starting from the time our chars (characters) are older. If your char is 13 or younger, then add 13 years to his/her age and that is how old you are in this RP. ;] This RP will involve serious plot twists and “mind jargon”. You must be able to RP effectively through situations (like those soon to be in this jolly ol’ quest) to move on to class 3. And remember, this is a class 2 RP. NO one-liner or nonsense posts allowed. (mice don’t fly, sorry) :3 BIC; excerpt from the sonnets of a young Redwall Abbey Recorder in training… Today marks the end of the year, and the last day of preparation for tomorrow’s New Year’s Feast. Friar Jibble says he’s planning a giant outdoor feast, which will be spread over the light snow which now gracefully covers our Abbey yard, to a not-too-large, so wonderful sum. Rumors have spread of a traveling company of performers, said to arrive at dawn today; well those are the rumors at least. Our New Year’s Feast will be a special one indeed, we will celebrate the endurance of our Abbey through past years, and the hope of a good year to come. Of many past battles we will celebrate our victories, and toast to our current peace, Peace gained through many battles still living on through the intrigue of stories, Through tough times and war out walls have stood tall and strong, covered in tranquility’s fleece; But though still in training a question I propose, though one best kept secret in light of tomorrow’s glories. How long will this last, this…joy of seeming permanence? There is a time and a season for every thing; a time to plant a time to reap, a time for summer a time for fall, Will the time of dust come to this red stone now erect? And if so then how soon or far away is that day in impendence? I have a growing uneasiness about the turning of the year, one that I cannot cover with feasts, or the temporal peace of Great Hall. So long as we stay vigilant and are not weakened by calm and still, we may prevent a day of reckoning, that I fear is soon to come; But with this over-extended peace who would become learned for war? Surrounded by an accepted false stillness what few, if any, would stay alert to the hidden disturbances while others think it dumb? And if there be any, another question I have; can Redwall be saved by only a sum of some? Atura M. Sicilia, expected future recorder of Redwall Abbey *It was a clouded, though beautiful day at Redwall Abbey. The sun peaked down through the clouds at the Abbey of Redwall and all surrounding it. The trees swayed in a light mid-winter wind, and the bushes breathed in, still with life as winter had not been over-bearing. A widely stretched blanket of calm covered the whole of Mossflower, spreading from the red warmth of Redwall Abbey. Friar Jibble, along with a score of helpers moved trolleys with haste through the comfort of Great Hall, as they entered and exited the Kitchens, moving the prepared food to the holding cellars for the Feast. They did this with such speed to keep the contents of the next day’s feast a mystery until it came. But indeed the smells of the rich and delicious food did itself make certain dishes known. Apple tarts, buttery sponge cakes, lemon syrups, savory rosemary soup, deeper n’ ever pie, light garlic and cheese deep dish savory pies, and aromatic well aged cheeses were among some of the foods that the Redwallers could make out with there widely exercised sense of food-smelling. As the last of the food trolleys were moved, Friar Jibble had time to start work on his widely admired dish, known as “Jibble-Berry Fondue”; which was a fondue that the Friar had intelligently invented and made completely with berries, and no cheese of course. It was red as strawberries, smooth as soft butter, thick as slowly melting snow, and as sweet as the ripest berries one could only dream about though never find. The Friar rubbed the girth of his chin thoughtfully as he surveyed the ingredients his helper, Blimpish, had brought in front of him.* Hm, yes. Blueberries, nice and round, strawberries, very ripe, hm, raspberry, peak of ripeness this year, banana berry, -bananas are berries you know, and yes, everything else I need for ingredients. Thanks you Blimpish, you’ve done very well. *Blimpish was a mouse of a jolly sort, and certainly apt to cooking, he stood a head taller and even more round than Friar Jibble. Both mice went around the counters and stoves, preparing the beloved redwall dish. It was quite a few minutes before Friar Jibble started conversation again.* I want this feast to go down in Redwall history, it will be even bigger than our last feast. Haha, generations to come shall here the tale of the great New Year’s Feast told in Great Hall my friend. *Blimpish nodded with a smile, he had been thinking the same thing himself and agreed completely with Friar Jibble.* Oh, yes, generations to come. Certainly they will Friar, no doubt ‘bout that need be had. Just as sure as it comes every day. *Both friends stopped moving, they were both standing still with their paws cupped around their ears. They didn’t have to wait long before the “it” Blimpish had mentioned could be heard.* TAP TAP TAP…TAP TAP *The two mice laughed heartily at the sounds, the same sounds were always issued at the same time of day, every day for as long as either of the two cared to remember. Determined to let the dibbuns have their fun, who were certainly the noise-making-culprits, the two mice, as well as all of the kitchen helpers, learned to enjoy the light tapping. Remembering their dibbuns days at the very sounds of it. Now both friends were in deep conversation on days of their youth, raiding the kitchens, playing in the Abbey Pond, and generally being lovable nuisances. Meanwhile, near the Abbey Gatehouse, two other good friend were also in deep conversation. Diffidence, a mousemaid, and Natter, a hog maid, walked along with no haste, taking in the cool breeze while sipping their warm tea. Both friends were mothers, and well respected figures in Redwall Abbey. Diffidence had many pieces of jewelry on, each one she felt added to her appearance in a different way, a blue ring to complement her eye color, a strand of pearls to bring out the shape of her eyes, shining gold earrings to add light to her smile , and brown-flecked granite bracelets to bring out her fur tone were a few of the adornments worn by the revered mid-age mousemaid. She never went farther than Great Hall without her jewelry, feeling that it completed her and made her special. Diffidence was also a round figure, and spoke with a high, almost squeaking voice.* Well Sister, I do feel sorry for our poor Gatekeeper. Well into his adult years and still hasn’t found a right young mousemaid. And with that thin figure, I wonder if any would want him; if he followed my advice, and came to more of the feasts, he’d have a bit more meet on his bones and be a better prospect for a pretty mousemaid. *Natter nodded her spiky head in agreement four times, which caused her plump stomach to jiggle as well. Then, she looked up as if remembering something. And after making sure no one was listening, Natter spoke to her friend in a low tone.* Well, I did hear that he recently gave up a young mousemaid. It was Siesta’s daughter Merry I think. They had been together for quite a while it would seem, some say they heard that others thought that he would tie the knot, but alas, he decided she wasn’t the one for him. Poor Merry I say. *Both friends could have gone on for hours more about the subject, but they had run out of tea, and the dibbuns; all of whom had been playing in the snow since breakfast, were beginning to try and wade out into the slushy Abbey Pond. Diffidence and Natter ran from near the Gatehouse and to the Abbey Pond, picking up and herding dibbuns to a more safe area. The Gatehouse door opened not much later, out stepped the very young mouse who had been the subject of the two womens’ gossip; Riveneye, Gatekeeper of Redwall Abbey. He stood straight and firm, a twinkle in his eye and readiness in his step. His “thin figure” was solid, lean muscle which had no wobble or jiggle in it. He had heard some of the conversation that was spoken not far from the door to his Gatehouse, thought he tried to ignore most of it, he did catch the name Merry mentioned by Natter. Did everyone know of his prior relationship with her? Indeed she was a nice enough mousemaid; Pretty of face and well, nice enough. But she also enjoyed the Abbey feasts, and -never to Riveneye’s knowledge, missed a meal. She enjoyed singing and dancing and performing for the Redwallers and the occasional guests while he would rather read about Redwall history, or practice the art of the sword or with his bow and arrow. (both of which he did secretly in the Gatehouse or out in Mossflower as weapons were no longer freely allowed at Redwall) During his relationship with Merry, Riveneye had noticed that his skills were slackening, he was attending much too many meals and sleeping afterwards instead of working them off. One day he had looked in the mirror and decided enough was enough. After all, he did not truly love Merry, he only courted her because nearly every beast at the Abbey said it was about time he courted somebody; he ended their courtship in private, not wanting to make a public show, and that was that. Riveneye found that soon after making this decision he was once again back to his prior skills and strength, once again regaining his practiced abilities. But as of the moment, these thought were put out of his mind. There was a guest at the Abbey, Fleetheart, a Salamandastron hare who had become good friends with the young Gatekeeper, after all, it was rare for Riveneye to meet any beast who had interest in the art of war, or self-defense for that matter. Riveneye headed to Great Hall, where he was sure he’d find Fleetheart. Fleetheart at the moment, was indeed in Great Hall. He stood admiring the tapestry for a while; before turning and walking around Great Hall, taking in the many great smells of food that he could easily distinguish. Fleetheart planned to go to the Gatehouse soon, where Riveneyes was sure to be, he had to tell Riveneye that Elip, a good friend to them both, was headed to Redwall as well.* Edited by Elip S. Quire, Sep 9 2010, 01:20 AM.
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"The best types of people in life, are those who laugh, love, and know how to cook." -Elip S. Quire, October 30, 2009- "When a man assumes a public trust, he should consider himself as public property." - Thomas Jefferson Welcome to Club Redwall. A site fun for all who like the Redwall series by Brian Jacques! | |
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| The Weaver | Sep 10 2010, 11:15 AM Post #2 |
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Fleetheart - M Hare - Nine Seasons [Troublesome Tykes]
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Fleetheart at the moment, was indeed in Great Hall. He stood admiring the tapestry for a while; before turning and walking around Great Hall, taking in the many great smells of food that he could easily distinguish. Fleetheart planned to go to the Gatehouse soon, where Riveneyes was sure to be, he had to tell Riveneye that Elip, a good friend to them both, was headed to Redwall as well. * Even if the older hare's visit was to be a surprise, secrets were one thing Fleetheart simply could not keep; that, and he just had to be there to see Riveneye's face! He peered over his shoulder as he sauntered through Great Hall, casting one last glance back at the great tapestry and the hero it depicted, the hero of Redwall. Martin - he was only a mouse, yet Fleet harbored an almost intense desire to be a warrior like he, strong and alive in memory and legend for more seasons and years than anybeast cared to count. Fleet, 18 and recruited to the Long Patrol for almost three seasons now, was on his first "casual" scouting assignment consisting of making and keeping friends at the abbey and scanning the area for potential vermin threats. Politics. Or a reason to get his constantly moving gab away from Salamandastron for the winter. Seeing as every visit to Redwall was inevitably a good one, Fleet considered himself both priviledged and respected to have been sent in such a manner. Inhaling deeply, Fleetheart took a moment to bask in the heavenly aroma of the incredible dishes the kitchens in Redwall were forever producing to clear his mind. Right. Task at hand. Riveneye would no doubt be in or around the gatehouse - it was usually where Fleet found the mouse, anyway, and as his lance had been stored there in deference to the abbey's no-weapons policy, the young scout often checked in on it. He quite liked the gatekeeper, sharing an interest in weaponry and warefare in general. As nice as the peace at Redwall surely was, Fleet nonetheless enjoyed having somebeast to discuss matters which were average and daily to him. It helped to ease the sense of homesickness he told himself he didn't feel. The aroma of what the hare suspected to be hot, fresh rosemary soup wafted under the door leading to the kitchens, and it took every bit and more of Fleetheart's self-control to not walk in bold as you please and offer his services as a taste-tester. He'd already tried that multiple times and it usually ended badly. For him, anyway. In some ways, he mused, the cooks at Redwall could be just as bad as the cooks at Salamandastron. Sighing, he managed to locate the doors to the abbey grounds without passing out from delicious-aroma-overdose. Pushing one open, he stepped out into the sunlight, nose twitching as the frost nipped at it. He could see dibbuns playing loudly in the snow and a mousewife and hogwife attempting to herd them - they didn't appear to be making much progress to Fleet's mind. Scanning the grounds, he put his ears up and began the search for Riven's face in the event the gatekeeper mouse might have left his study for some reason or another. * Edited by The Weaver, Sep 10 2010, 11:18 AM.
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"Lost! I knew a woodpecker once who got lost." "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you find him again?" "Find him? Of course I found the blighter--that's how he came to get lost in the first place." --Tarquin and Storm, Mariel of Redwall | |
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| Elip S. Quire | Sep 11 2010, 01:01 AM Post #3 |
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-Assistant Club Leader- (Elip as drawn by the AV creator)
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*Elip was trudging on doggedly through waist high snow, his trip to Redwall had not been a pleasant one so far. Freezing and icy snow had slowed his pace to a crawl. He planed to make camp soon as making it to Redwall by nightfall was not very likely. He had not been to the Abbey in a long time; the last time being when he had traveled with the host of the Long Patrol. They had been asked to leave all of their weapons outside of the Abbey Gates near the path before entering Redwall; this indeed left a bit of a bad taste in the mouths of the battle trained hares. Now the full host of Long Patrol hares close to never visited the Abbey all at once, usually sending only one or a small group of scouts to make sure things were going well. Elip’s mind moved from one subject to another, he usually had someone with him to speak his mind to, but as of the moment there was nobeast around; though he had journeyed many places by himself, this was his first trip to Redwall that he had taken without company. Usually he would come every two seasons with his godmother and Otter Skipper Sonoma; as he had done since he was just a leveret. But for what seemed like many seasons ago, she and her clan set out on a long journey, one that they had not yet returned from. Every handful of season, Sonoma would send one or a few of her clan back to Slamandastron to let all who wondered know that everything was going well. Elip had planned to await for Sonoma’s return before journeying again to Redwall, but as the seasons passed, and Sonoma and her otter clan never returned to the Mossflower region, he decided that he would take the trip alone. As all other thought moved to the background of his mind, Elip could not help but wonder how the Abbey was fairing through such an intense winter. Surely they’d have to be closed inside, and the orchards would probably be lost. There might even be some light damage to the Abbey that would need immediate repair! Thoughts like these kept Elip’s pace high and firm. Peering through the stinging wind, he could make out that he was walking on the top of very highly-piled snow as it went down steeply about twenty paces in front of him. Indeed he had not yet noticed that the tip of his ears were at the mid-way point of many of the trees in Mossflower; if the snow underneath him had not been so icy, he surely would have fallen through, and to who knows what end. Now there was an even more hasty, though cautious, speed in Elip’s step. He moved nimbly through the snow, being careful not to put down the whole of his weight on a single footpaw all at once. He had judged the distance to the end of the high snow quite well, taking about twenty-seven steps to reach the end. Testing the edge for firmness then sliding down, the travel-weary hare found a pleasant change in atmosphere. There was a sort of warmth that he felt at the bottom of the cliff-like snow. The light snow underpaw was soft and comfortable to the touch, in no way icy and stinging. The high snow wall seemed to catch the rough breeze; only allowing a slight, cool breeze to come down. The sudden, though pleasant, change in weather puzzled Elip for a moment. But he decided not to think much of it. After all, if he had been blessed to now have easy travel, who was he to raise a question against it?! Elip walked on, the pack on his back became light; as all burdens seem to do when one’s spirits are raised. He made good speed in the general direction of the Abbey, staying fairly on track by using the twinkling of the first stars to help guide him. As fate would have it, it was not long before Elip saw signs of other beasts, or so he thought, out in Mossflower. Out in the not too far distance, Elip could plainly make out the shape and flicker of a single torchlight. He smiled and rubbed his paws together, Could it be the performing troop that was said to come to Redwall? Even the prospect of this made the Salamandastron hare very happy. Even he had heard the rumors of a traveling troop coming to Redwall. He got in for a closer view, taking refuge behind a solid oak and hoping to make out the figure holding the torch. Elip could make out a tale; not thick enough to be a rat, but certainly too long to be a mouse, or a normal mouse anyway. Elip could see the tale clearly because that’s what was holding up the torch. In fact, in the dimming sunlight Elip could make out that the creature was holding the torch above its head with a long and thing tale, while walking forward on all fours! This was certainly an acrobatic feat if Elip ever saw one; he was thinking on whether and how to introduce himself as two more torch lights appeared behind him and out of sight. Both flickering flames seemed to dance neatly around each other, as great eagles do when flying to impress. Elip’s eyes shot to the low but present reflection of light upon the tree bark of the oak he was kneeling at. He turned around, looking to very easily distinguished figures dead in the eyes. He waved half-heartedly.* Well hallo!… |
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"The best types of people in life, are those who laugh, love, and know how to cook." -Elip S. Quire, October 30, 2009- "When a man assumes a public trust, he should consider himself as public property." - Thomas Jefferson Welcome to Club Redwall. A site fun for all who like the Redwall series by Brian Jacques! | |
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| Riveneye | Sep 13 2010, 02:52 PM Post #4 |
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Club Leader
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OOC: Shame on you Elip for trying to marry me off. I deeply ashamed that my rp is so small. I've been really busy with school that just started though. BIC: *Riveneye irrately slapped his face as a bug buzzed in his ear. Sitting up in the old armchair he drew the wool blanket tighter around him. Slowly, he opend one eye then the other.* What time is it? *Drowsily he stumbled out of the chair and lifted up the gatehouse window drapes. It was starting to get dark. Why was he sleeping this late in the after noon. He grumbled as he threw a few more pieces of wood on the fire.* I really am starting to get lazy. *Fully awake now, he threw on his cloak and walked outside. The weather was docile compared to what it was like earlier in the day. Dibbuns were now enjoying themselves in the new piled snow drifts. He saw Fleetheart nearing the Gatehouse and hailed him.* Hey there!! Edited by Riveneye, Sep 13 2010, 02:53 PM.
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| Elip S. Quire | Oct 9 2010, 01:41 PM Post #5 |
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-Assistant Club Leader- (Elip as drawn by the AV creator)
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*The stones out on the Abbey path were cold and sharp, they were small and covered by the light so that you could rarely see them, but they were just as sharp as they were unnoticeable. Elip knew this because at the moment, he was pulling his bruised body directly over them. With his body producing little heat, the blood caked on Elip’s rib, left arm, and back was half frozen solid in the low temperatures. At times he would cringe as pieces of it would break off and be left behind in the thin blanket of snow. Despite the immense pain he was under, this was not the highest thing on the warriors mind; rarely had Elip ever been in this predicament, because rarely had he ever been beaten. The enemies he had met with were extremely skilled in the art of war; but this was not the only thing they had on their side. Elip knew that their number had played a significant part. The beasts, so many beast! Both familiar and of the like he had never seen before…so many of them! Elip looked over his shoulder, this was hard to do with his rib cage wound freezing from the outside in. He looked behind at the speckled trail of blood he had left in the snow, he was not being immediately followed. But the bushes and leaves on the far side of the path were moving. They were still watching him. Elip couldn’t even guess why they didn’t just rush out and take him, he was no longer in a position to resist. He decided that whatever the reason, he should be thankful for it and get to the Abbey Gates fast. Using bother arms one over the other, Elip worked his way towards the Abbey Gates. The wound on his right rib felt as though someone had taken a spear made of ice and ran him through with it. But despite the pain, and the wound on Elip’s left arm, he continued towards the Abbey Gates. Now Elip was planning; how would he get inside of the Abbey without getting the gates open for the vermin to rush straight in? Elip’s first thought was to have a basket be thrown from the top walls, if he could get in fast enough he would be safe.* WOOSH! CRACK! *A long whip swooshed out of the bushes and shrubs. It made a loud snap as it snagged around Elip’s footpaw. Elip grunted in pain as he felt a strong deal of force pulling him towards the other side of the path. He used every bit of strength in him to keep heading in the direction of the Abbey Gates; he was almost there. But the longer he resisted, the harder it became. Elip knew that more than one beast was pulling at the whip from the other end. There was a piece of a sword tip in Elip’s middle back. It brushed against his spine painfully as he pulled his own body in a life or death tug of war. Knowing that he could not make it with the whip looped around his ankle, Elip decided on his course of action. Jumping up to one footpaw, Elip let out a roar of pain and anger. Taking out his sword, Elip jumped into the air, reaching out to his footpaw, which he was still being pulled by while in mid-air. With a loud snap, Elip sliced the whip from his ankle. There was another loud snap as the whip went from stretched tight to snapped loose in an instant. Elip landed on his knees, in a struggle of strength and effort, Elip stood and sprinted to the Abbey Gates. The whole of the surrounding echoed as he pounded the gates three solid times.* BOOM BOOM BOOM *Elip expected for the beast across the path to gather and wait for the gates to open before rushing in. But instead, they turned and ran after his first blow to the door. This was the last though that went through Elip’s head. He had used the whole of his strength, it was gone completely by the last blow to the Abbey Gates. There, at the entrance to Redwall Abbey, Elip fell to the ground with an echoing and slushy plop-thump. The last sound coming out of his mouth was a faint grunt of pain as the sword tip flew from his back with the impact of his body with the ground.* |
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"The best types of people in life, are those who laugh, love, and know how to cook." -Elip S. Quire, October 30, 2009- "When a man assumes a public trust, he should consider himself as public property." - Thomas Jefferson Welcome to Club Redwall. A site fun for all who like the Redwall series by Brian Jacques! | |
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| The Weaver | Oct 16 2010, 11:50 PM Post #6 |
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Fleetheart - M Hare - Nine Seasons [Troublesome Tykes]
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*Fleet bounded down the steps as soon as he caught sight of Riven's exit from the gatehouse. The snow wasn't deep, but it was certainly cold, and this was one hare that avoided shoes. The result of this combination was Fleet having to hop more than run over to the mouse as he hailed him. Coming to a halt, he wished he'd thought to grab a cloak or something like it. Scouts' uniforms are made to be silent and inconspicuous and absolutely nothing like the loose, warm-looking habits the brothers and sisters of the abbey wore. Although a large part of Fleet's heritage came from the hares of the north - the hares from the north with nice, thick winter coats of fur that didn't need much more dressing - he, unfortunately, took his fur length from his father's side of the gene pool. This is, he lacked that special amount of fur needed for one to be comfortable during the winter months. It was rather maddening. The young recruit tried not to think about it too much even as his breath caused small, chilly clouds of fog to break across his face. Flicking his ears repeatedly to warm them up, Fleet mentally came back around to his original mission: tell his mouse friend about the impending arrival of Elip. He launched into his speech almost before Riven had finished greeting him, without pause, and chattered on breathlessly in his usual garrulous manner.* Afternoon, Riven, mate, been up to much, have ye? No, wait, don't tell me yet, I've news for ye, wot! Wot news, pray, I hear y'ask - no need to say it out loud, old thing, I can predict these types of questions just as well as any other chap! - well, y'remember Elip S. Quire, of course, good pal o' yours, in't 'e? 'Course 'e is, I already knew that, too - I know a lot of unasked questions like this because I'm so used to hearing otherbeasts interrupt me to ask 'em, y'know, that's why there's no need for y'to try it y'self - where was I? Yes, Elip! Well, word on the jolly old mountain - that is, Salamandastron, but you probably knew that, so nevermind - anyway, it's supposed to be a surprise, so, er, surprise! Oh, wait, I haven't told y'yet, have I? Beg pardon, I was getting to that, hahaha! Er, yes, well, Elip is-- *Fleet's rambling was cut short by the sudden advent of three loud booms echoing across the abbey grounds. The young scout startled and whirled in the direction of the abbey gates, ignoring the odd squeal or two of surprise from the dibbuns still being herded inside. When a few heartbeats had passed, Fleet turned a bewildered look to Riven. He would have asked something like, "Wot in the name of my great aunty's pinny was that?" but the answer seemed fairly obvious, so he changed his mind even as he spoke. His eyes shifted from Riven to the gate and back again.* Wot....? Er, guess my news will have to wait, eh. Wot a knock! Good grief, y'd think somebeast was dyin' out there or summat! Ah... you're the gatekeeper, aren't ye, Riven? Wot d'ye say we go an' see who's makin' all the racket? Supposin' it's somebeast with ill intent or -- or something, I mean, it'd help to have somebeast who knows a thing or two about fightin' at y'back, wouldn't it, wot? *Tipping a ear in the direction of the doors, Fleet took off in the same springy lope he'd used on his initial foray across the grounds. Grabbing one of the gate handles, he dug his numbing footpaws into the snow and pulled until the door began swinging open. When it was dragged ajar enough for a hare of his stature to fit through, he released the handle and poked his head around the door. At first, he had the strange thought that this was somebeast's idea of a joke. Then a short, though no less bright, flash of light caught his eye and he noticed a sword stuck point-first into the frozen ground. It was still quivering, catching the sun and throwing crazy beams of light across the red sandstone walls of the abbey. He caught sight of the body of a hare at the same time his long ears picked out the muffled sound of labored breathing. Knowing it was another creature from his species as well as seeing blood flecked across the white snow, Fleet abandoned all sense of caution to the wind and jumped outside without checking the area. It was lucky for him. He knelt over the other hare, alternately shouting across his shoulder and chunnering over the traveler as he did so.* Hey, everybeast, assistance needed at the gate, there's a wounded beast out here! Good grief, wot happened to you, still alive, I hope? Bring a stretcher, if y'can, helpful things, wot! Oh... Elip? Edited by The Weaver, Oct 23 2010, 09:51 PM.
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"Lost! I knew a woodpecker once who got lost." "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you find him again?" "Find him? Of course I found the blighter--that's how he came to get lost in the first place." --Tarquin and Storm, Mariel of Redwall | |
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| Elip S. Quire | Nov 16 2010, 08:47 AM Post #7 |
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-Assistant Club Leader- (Elip as drawn by the AV creator)
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OOC: (This is a post to move along the plot of the RP. I know it's a long time coming, and sorry for it being so; but now let us get on with the RP!) BIC: *The commotion and noise from outside caused a moderate outpour of Abbey dwellers onto the lawns. Abbot Cantankerous, a stern but jolly and round dormouse was at the head of the crowd. Scudding across the lawns he though aloud to himself, wiping his mouth clean of tea drops and cake crumbs; part of a small snack he had to leave.* Deary me, I wonder what could have made such a ringing like that! Hm, probably our friends the guosim, or, or the Hare...Long Patrol. I can't imagine why anybeast would make so much noise; too bad they couldn't wait until the day's meal was over. *The round Abbot lost all current train of thought upon seeing Fleet knelt over the form of a badly injured beast who didn't seem to be moving. Then he himself began yelling in his loudest tones.* Oh heavens! We need the Herbalist and Infirmary Keeper, and brother Foremole, get your crew together and bring a stretcher to carry that poor beast to the infirmary! *The Abbot rushed the rest of the distance to the Abbey Gates. Panting and looking down at the now easily distinguishable Salamandastron hare. He shook his head pityingly as he grabbed both of Elip's sword from where they were on him and threw them outside of the Abbey Gates; holding them with the tip of his fingers as if they were contagious items.* These, I will not allow into my Abbey. They bring nothing but pain and suffering. *There was a slight plosh sound in the low snow as both weapons landed. As soon as the Foremole arrived with his crew and the requested supplies, Elip was carried off into the Abbey Infirmary; the procession of the Abbot, moles, herbalist, and Infirmary Keeper followed by a group of on looking Redwallers. One onlooker if which, had decided to stay behind the crowd, and unnoticed. It was Atura, the apprentice Recorder of Redwall Abbey. Atura walked to where Fleet was, her face mostly covered in her hooded cloak. Atura was a rather solitary creature for her age, but like many others, had been aroused from her day to day life by the commotion at the Gates. Atora placed a friendly paw on Fleet's shoulder, gazing out at Elip's treasured weapons, thrown out onto the ground.* I can see that you are from Salamandastron my friend. You surely know better than I that a warrior’s personal weapons are as much a part of him as any other. It is not fitting to leave Elip's weapons in such a state. Come, we could sneak them back in and hide them inside of Riveneye's Gatehouse where they can be cleaned and set down properly.* Edited by Elip S. Quire, Nov 16 2010, 08:53 AM.
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"The best types of people in life, are those who laugh, love, and know how to cook." -Elip S. Quire, October 30, 2009- "When a man assumes a public trust, he should consider himself as public property." - Thomas Jefferson Welcome to Club Redwall. A site fun for all who like the Redwall series by Brian Jacques! | |
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3:46 AM Jul 11
