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Post by Jasyn on Apr 30, 2008 7:38:38 GMT -5
A huge white mountain of fur was striding down the hot sands. His clothing was very exotic, a kilt and sporran with a beret. The color sceme was based around yellow, so he seemed almost a part of the sand. A huge polished box hung from straps on his shoulders, and the hare was muttering under his peach-silk blindfold. "Ah hate thaes send. Ah weesh thare was soom waey fo meh too git to yon Salamandastron quicker." The large hare muttered under his breath some more unmeantionable things, then he stopped. "Ah guess ah'll git mah paeps oot. Naething laek a wee bit o' moosic tae britin thangs oop." With that, he to the box off from his shoulders and took out a huge set of bagpipes. He returned the box to his back, inflated the bag, tucked it under his right arm, and began to play a triumphant sounding march.
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Post by blackfox7 on May 1, 2008 6:01:58 GMT -5
(Would you like some random vermin: Scrambled, Poached, or Sunny-Side Up?)
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Post by Jasyn on May 1, 2008 14:47:45 GMT -5
(I prefer Scrambled.  ) |
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Post by blackfox7 on May 1, 2008 17:19:20 GMT -5
(OKEY-DOKEY!!!)
The robber band of Gilblade had been dozing in the shade of a large rock formation, but the muggy summer stillness had been suddenly interrupted by an odd sound. The large grey rat woke with a disgusting snort and rubbed grit from his eyes. He kicked sand over the nearest vermin and snarled bad-temperedly.
"Git up, ye slime. Don't ye 'ere that? 'Tis a beast a'playin' an insturrment!"
About a dozen scruffy-looking weasels and other grey rats rose with yawns and muttered curses. They half-heartedly picked up their grimed, rusty, and dull weapons: Cutlasses, whips, clubs, and the occational halberd. Pointing with a chubby claws, Gilblade directed his villianous charges in the direction of the mountain hare.
"Alone an' abroad, me cullies: Jist th' swordbait we're lookin' fer!"
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Post by Jasyn on May 2, 2008 7:35:53 GMT -5
Seamus remained on his forward march. He didn't seem to have noticed the vermin. In fact, it's hard to tell whether or not the mad mountain hare noticed much beyond his linear march and the pipes beneath his fingers. In fact, I don't think that he really did notice much of anything beyond the perpetual motion of his feet, and the melodious harmony of the pipes.
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Post by blackfox7 on May 4, 2008 9:31:00 GMT -5
Gilblade, flanked by two weasels, strode boldly into the hare's path. The rat tested the edge of his sword and grinned wickedly at the beast marching towards him. The remainder of his robber vermin were following about five paces behind the hare, cracking whips and snickering as they imagined what kind of loot the lone beast might be carrying.
"Stop right there, bunny. Yer trespassin' on our beach--yew needs t' pay t' git any further!", Gilblade said insultingly, swinging his sword, "Empty out yer pockets or die!"
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Post by Jasyn on May 6, 2008 15:00:06 GMT -5
Seamus kept marching untill he was a paw's width from Gilblade. Only then did the northern berserker look up. "Who ye caelling a boony, varmin? Caertinly noot ah. Ah'm a montin hare, nae boony. Donae aver furget thae. Else ah'll be taellin mah freens aboot thae grup o' varmin wha tried tae stoop mae. As fer thon toll, ah shaell noot bae peying aet. Donae trae fercing aet oot o' ma sporran aether. If ya bae wase, ye'll letten mae pass."
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Post by blackfox7 on May 7, 2008 18:32:49 GMT -5
Gilblade snarled contemptuously: The grey rat was not used to stealing from creatures that fought back. Some of his weasels and rats shuffled nervously.
"Ye better watch yer mouth aroun' here, ye insolent swab! I'll call yer a bunny if'n I likes! Blasgur! Riphide! Show this stoopid beast wot we're made of!"
At Gilblade's command the two large weasels on either side of him drew chipped and rusted broadswords and began circling the mountain hare. The rest of the band moved back many paces and muttered eagerly among themselves. Gilblade gloated to himself as Riphide made the first move: The weasel darted in hard and fast at the hare's left side with his sword aloft.
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Post by Jasyn on May 8, 2008 15:01:14 GMT -5
The large hare grabbed the weasel's paw and lifted him high above his head, and brought him crashing down into the other vermin. Then, while most of the group lay stunned, he nonchalantly pulled the box off his back. Deliberately slow, he put the bagpipes back in the box, then he lifted the false bottom. He then pulled out a HUGE iron great-sword. The blade lifted high, and then dug deep into the sand by Gilblade's foot-paws. The iron was sharp, and showed little light. The garnet orb, however, was almost bright as a sun. The blade was heavy though, and none but a badger, wolverine, or a northern hare berserker could lift it, and Seamus knew it. "Allreight yon varmin. Iffn ye cen left Sargenny, than ah'll pae thon toll. Aef, haewever, you coulndae lift mah blade, than ah'll coot ya doon where ye staend. Aes thaet claer?"
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Post by blackfox7 on May 21, 2008 18:50:05 GMT -5
Gilblade stared hard at the massive blade impaling the ground near his feet and tried not to show how much he doubted that any of his creatures could even lift such a sword to knee height. Pretending to be confident, the fat rat snorted contemptuously.
"Harr! I don' e'en need t' touch that old thing: Blasgur! He kin do et, cain't 'e?"
There were several resoundant cheers and yarrs from the some dozen vermin robbers surrounding the berserker hare, but the named weasel did not seem too joyful about the proposition. Blasgur opened his mouth to disagree, but a glare from Gilblade shut him up. Slowly the strong-looking weasel padded up to the hare.
Blasgur was no fool;he knew it would be impossible for a weasel to lift the greatsword. He stopped short of the northern hare and stood anxiously.
"Well?", he managed squeakily,"Kin ah git a try?"
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Post by Jasyn on May 22, 2008 14:43:23 GMT -5
Seamus snorted contempuously. "Ye varmin haev nae beckbaon. If ye waent, ya caen ool trae. But dinae noon o' thon make baesness. Doe ah mek mahself claer? Good than. Ge' on an trae." The hare smirked. Oh yes, Sargenny was going to slake her thirst of blood today. And it was well deserved too. Seamus had asked directions from a Heron two days ago, and knew that he was a bare day's march to the immense fortress of Salamandastron. As soon as these vermin were gotten rid of, he would resume his march. He could even see a smudge in the distance that could be the mountain. Who knew?
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Post by Tausend Awyth on May 22, 2008 23:27:22 GMT -5
"Ah, a swordbeast be ye? A lad after me own heart, wot!" The owner of the voice had topped the sand dune to the landward side of the quarrelers. He now stood, severe features properly forbidding as he leaned on his saber, fondling the handle of one of his daggers.
Aidan Starpaw De Ffemrelle Truggan Wavebob winked at the ratty band, (no pun intended) in a conspiratory way. "Think yer friend there c'n lift that greatsword? Or will ye all be mince-meat by sundown?"
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Post by Jasyn on May 27, 2008 15:02:19 GMT -5
Seamus heard the other hare and he looked at him. "'Lo there. Ah'm loking fer ae mauntan caelled Salamandastron. Air ye froom et? Ah caem ta jain the Loong Petrel. Leat meh taek caer o' thase baesties tho'. An thaen well talk." The large hare turned back to the vermin in front of his sword. "Weel? Aer ya gunna trae an lif Sergenny? Donae was mah time new. Git oon wi aet."
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