Homing in on Friends (open)

[Bowen Lark]

Cursing seemed to ease the pain coursing through every part of him. Severin filled the air with every foul word he could remember, and several he had invented that night. Between breaths he sucked blood from his teeth and tried to keep from thinking of Thorn. Only a nagging dedication to Brody’s wellbeing kept the knight at his shambling pace. He stumbled forward, sometimes on all fours, and tried to keep on Brody’s and the ferret’s trail.

“I...am too old for this,” Severin snarled as he tripped over an exposed root. He kicked out a leg to steady his gait. It was as though his clothes were made from lead. The otter gave his head a vicious shake and slowed to collect his thoughts. He was still conscious, but the world was enveloped in a haze brought on by exertion and pain. Severin looked at the long expanse of dark forest and pale meadow in front of him. The air was filled with the sound of his ragged breathing and, in the distance, the faint crash of footfalls. Brody.

Severin set his head down and kicked into as fast a run as his encased leg would allow. The last of his reserves was guttering with each stride, coursing out from his wounds and his lungs. Looking up, the knight saw a line of torches emerge from the darkness – Fort Emerald Bay. If Brody had made it that far, he would be safe. And then Thorn, too, could be saved. Unless she has already filled the river with Fioran’s blood, the knight thought, a sardonic grin flitting up his muzzle.

A piercing shriek filled the air, and Severin looked up to see a white flash descend from the sky. He let out a choked roar.

“Brody! Run, boy!” The knight’s voice was thin with barely contained panic. To come so close and lose the pup now... “Get to the fort!”

The white creature was gone by the time Severin limped up to the ferret’s mangled body. He glanced down at the corpse and then at the fort gates, dizzy with relief.

“Thank the Fates that some things do not change,” Severin said. He ran a hand over his face and sighed. A moment later, the silence was broken by rustling armour and thudding footfalls. The knight looked up to find himself surrounded by at least six armed guards.

“Good evening,” Severin said. He had to steady himself against a sudden light-headedness. “Did Broderick make it to the fort?”

“The otter pup? Aye, he did,” one of the guards said. He shifted the lance in his hands. “Now, tell us who you are and why you care.”

Severin narrowed his eyes at the guard. He coughed before answering. “I am Severin Beck. Lady Windspiral will know me. I am going back to the meadow.”

The guards exchanged glances. One shuffled up beside Severin and put a hand on the knight’s arm. “Maybe you’d best tell us what happened here.”

The otter let out a low growl and nodded. “I suppose that is appropriate, given how this appears. We – Broderick, myself, and another otter, Thorn Silentpaw – were ambushed on the riverside edge of the meadows. I killed three, one followed Broderick, and Thorn is still out there, possibly injured. Possibly dead. May I have leave to go?” He canted his head and smirked at the guards.

The guard who had first addressed him spun on one heel and started rallying out orders.

“Orvin, go back to Kel and tell her what happened. See if the pup’s story matches. If it does, send out reinforcements – including a healer. The rest of us will go with Master Beck.”

Severin had already started limping back toward the meadow. He squinted as a guard appeared beside him with a lit torch. The others marched behind at a pace that matched the knight’s jagged lope. He surveyed their plated armour and heavy spears, pricked by irritation as the night echoed with the crash and jangle of their movements.
“They will hear us coming if we remain grouped,” Severin said to the lead guard. “Have two cut through the meadow to the forest line.”

The lead, a tawny fox with a captain’s band on his arm, gestured at two of the other guards.

“Do as he says. Report back if you find anything.”

He turned to meet Severin’s gaze with wry grey eyes. “It’s Stolin Kemp, by the way.”

“A pleasure,” the knight muttered dryly. “Pardon me if I seem unsociable. I’m trying to will the Fates into making sure Lady Silentpaw still lives. Do you mind?”

ooc: feel free to rp the two guards sent out to the river

[Keleanth Windspiral]

Every once in awhile Thorn regretted making certain choices.

Today was one of those days. The otter was seriously wondering why she had ever decided to stop and spend the night with Brody's family. Fioran had acted quickly upon his threat of payback, and several new aches, pains, and wounds had been added to those already inflicted upon her. She was still hanging from the branch and she swayed in time with her ragged gasps as she fought to find a way to manage the assault on her senses. Blood dripped from a variety of scrapes, cuts, and gashes, all of which radiated their own form of mild discomfort through her body. All in all, she was a mess. The worst part of that was she knew it, and she knew her enemy had the upper paw. For once it appeared that she might not be able to fight her way out of a situation.

A low, hoarse chuckle from across the camp drew the otter's one good eye up so she could glare at the shadowy figure. It was tough to pick out the fox from the rest of the dark shapes around him, but she managed. He stepped forward to let his gaze run up and down her prone form, then chuckled again.

"Well T'orn...'ow you feelin' now? Still t'ink you kin manipulate yer way out of dis situation?"

Thorn bared her teeth at her captor before spitting out a mouthful of blood. That gesture was repeated, then the otter snorted quietly as she fixed her gaze on her opponent.

"'M goin' t'shove that beatin' stick down yore throat, you flea-bitten, tick-infested, toad-eyed piece o' dung." Her voice was quiet, and ragged, but there was no mistaking the bitter intent behind her words as they dripped off of her tongue. Silence reigned for a moment, then the quiet chuckle was replaced with outright laughter as the fox moved closer to his target.

"I have ter say...you do gots spirits. Too bad dat ain't goin' ter stay dat way!" Without further warning he lifted the heavy piece of wood he'd been using as the "beating stick" and brought it down directly on the otter's left shoulder. The impact managed to simultaneously dislocate Thorn's left shoulder, which was already strained by holding up her weight, and cause her to actually cry out in pain. Fioran took a step back so he could admire his handiwork, then grinned at his captive.

"Still t'ink yore gonna make me eat dis t'ing?" He laughed uproariously, then tossed the bloody chunk of wood into the fire that crackled behind him. He eyed the slowly swaying figure of his prisoner, then drew a dagger from his belt before reaching up to cut her down from the tree branch. It was a measure of how badly Thorn had been injured that she didn't take advantage of that moment to try and attack the dog fox. Fioran sliced through the rope that held her paws bound above her head, then let her drop to the ground. She landed in a crumpled, bloody heap, and a small groan escaped as the impact caused another wave of pain to sweep through her.

"Ha! On'y t'ing yer gonna do now is die...nice 'n slow..." the fox cackled. He moved back to the fire and set the dagger beside it as he reached for the end of one of the burning logs. He examined the wood for a moment, then tossed it back into the flames in order to grab another log, obviously seeking for something different.

Thorn shifted on the ground and glared over at her tormentor as he continued to sift through the firewood. While she ached all over she had been in worse condition before. Not often, she had to admit, but it had happened. She also had to admit that she wasn't going to get much time to act and attempt to make her escape. The otter used her teeth to pluck the remaining shreds of rope away from her wrists, then slowly gathered her legs up underneath of her body. She sent a silent prayer to whatever fates or spirits were watching over her that Fioran hadn't managed to break one of her legs, though she suspected she had at least sprained one of her ankles in the fall to the ground.

Tremors rippled through the river beast's body as she twisted her left arm up and tucked it against her body. It wasn't going to help her at all right now, and her next move was going to be painful enough without having it flopping around behind her. Thorn took a deep breath, careful of the ribs she suspected were cracked or broken, then lifted her head.

"'Ey knucklehead!" That was the only warning the fox received. The otter attacked as he turned. She launched her battered body directly at Fioran, aiming to hit him low. Her aim was off, and she hit him in the mid-section, which sent them both both flying back into the fire. The fox yowled as coals began to singe his fur burn his clothing. He reacted without thinking and kicked the otter off of him as he rolled out of the fire and onto dry ground, then continued to roll until he was certain there was nothing left on him that burned.

Thorn again landed in a heap, but someone or something was finally smiling down on her. Her opponent's wild kick had caused her to land right beside his discarded dagger, and she was quick to snatch that up into her "good" right paw.

"Yew wretch!" There was something akin to a roar as her opponent gained his footpaws and turned his fury upon her. A maelstrom of kicks descended upon the otter as Fioran approached, and she curled up into a ball in a futile attempt to protect herself. The fox wasn't finished with that. He grabbed Thorn by the tail and started to drag her towards the fire.

"Yew like burnin'? Then burn!" He started to shove her towards the flames, only to yelp as the otter lashed out with a footpaw. She connected with his wrist, and there was a resounding crack as the bone snapped under the contact. Now it was Thorn's turn to chuckle, and she did so. It was barely audible, but it was enough. Goaded into further action by the whispered taunting sound and driven slightly mad by the pain of his broken wrist Fioran attacked again. This time, however, he landed directly on top of the otter, and his good paw reached for her throat. He'd strangle her for this insult!

Weakened by her previous torture there was nothing Thorn could do to stop the dog fox from gaining the upper paw. She gasped for breath as his paw closed around her throat. Her air was quickly cut off, and her other struggles revealed that there was nothing she would be able to do to force the vermin off of her. Remembering the dagger in her paw she quickly shifted her grip on its handle. As the edges of her vision grew hazy Thorn attacked, striking once. At first she thought she had missed. Fioran's paw grew tighter around her throat, and she gagged as she tried to force air into her lungs through the blocked passageway. Suddenly the fox collapsed, and with a strangled cry of relief the otter shoved his paw away from her neck and gasped.

It took several minutes for her to summon the energy to move again. More time passed as Thorn wriggled her way out from underneath her opponent. She ended up lying beside the dying fire, resting just a few feet from Fioran, whose dagger was plunged to the hilt in his head.

Two pairs of eyes had watched the entire struggle in complete silence. They belonged to the two vermin that made up the remainder of Fioran's small troop. Neither beast had been inclined to help their "leader" in his moment of trouble. Now, however, they were quietly debating their choices.

"Ah'm tellin' youse...we go in, kill da riverdog, an' take da food. No one will ever know," the rat hissed. He was crouched beneath a large bush with his hairless tail wrapped around his legs. "Anyone who finds 'em will think dey killt each other."

"I dunno...I think we oughts ter jus' leave now. Some'un's gonna come f'her." The ferret glanced at where Thorn was lying, then started to stand. "I'm leavin'. I ain't dealin' wid dat un, or anyone else comin'."

The pair continued their quiet argument, completely unaware of the fact that Severin was approaching with three fort beasts. They were also completely oblivious to the other two fort beasts that had made their way across the meadow and up to the river, and were now doing their best to stalk the pair.


(ooc: Sorry for the long wait! Hope this works for you. Feel free to do with the vermin as you please, and let me know if I should change anything!)

[Bowen Lark]

Dizziness made Severin feel like he was lumbering neck-deep through a swamp. He clutched his head, mouth curled into a silent snarl. Every step required the fullest concentration as the bloodlust began to drain from the knight’s body. He jerked away from Stolin’s supporting hand and slurred a curse.

“You are in no condition to save her,” the fox said mildly, wincing as his gaze moved over the otter. “I’m surprised you can walk.”

Severin shifted his gaze to Stolin, lip curled. “You neglected to mention that you are a healer. As you can see, I am walking. And I will continue to walk until we find Thorn.”

They passed through the meadow in silence, the night air cut by the creaky sawing of Severin’s leg brace and the rustling steps of the other guards. Blood roared in the knight’s ears as one of the guards spotted a trail of smoke rising just into the forest. He surged ahead, trying to run, but the world suddenly tilted to one side and Severin veered aside to correct it, nearly tumbling into the brush. Stolin’s hand darted out and righted him, remaining firmly clasped around the knight’s upper arm.

“Keep it to a walk or I will have one of my men carry you.”

Severin hardly registered Stolin’s warning. His gaze remained locked on the line of smoke as they got nearer. The meadow thinned around them, exposing more of the path. Severin swung his head to the left and indicated a shadowed area on the edge of the meadow.

“You’ll find some of the cur’s crew there.”

“Hm. In pieces, no doubt.”

The knight smirked, blood on his teeth. “No doubt.”

Severin could smell ash and burnt wood. His chest was cold and full of sharp stones rattling against the underside of his heart. He strained to hear Thorn, but his head was full of the crash of armour and heavy footfalls. A strangled growl fell out of the otter’s throat.

“I have to find her.” His voice was thick, each word slurring into the next. Severin looked away when he found Stolin’s face full of sympathy. “She is alive.”

“’course, mate,” one of the other guards said, his voice lowered into a gentle sing-song. Severin wondered if they were humouring him or mocking him.

Dull steel clattered out of the forest – one of the scouts Stolin had sent earlier. He was slightly breathless.

“Two survivors – the thieves, likely,” he said. “Garrund is watching them.”

“T – ? Two?” Severin rasped, wheeling on the scout. “What about the otter maiden? Where is she?”

The scout winced. “There are two lying by the fire. Looks like they struggled. One of them is a fox –“

“And you left her there?” Severin snarled, shoving away from Stolin and the other guards. “Fool. Waste!”

Stolin’s gaze followed the knight’s staggering form for a moment. He looked at the scout. “Return to help Garrund bring in the thieves. And one of you find out where the healer is.”

Severin limped into the clearing, following the river’s curved path. His eyes found the dying fire first and followed the sputtering light as it flickered over the two prone forms. Thorn.

“Ah. No.” Severin’s legs buckled beneath him. He sank onto the ground a few feet from Thorn’s body. He was choking, he was being ripped into, he was dying.

“I failed you,” the knight growled, dragging his hands through his headfur. “Gods.”

His injuries forgotten, Severin crawled over to Thorn’s body.

“I’m sorry.”

Stolin appeared from the meadow and crouched beside the otter.

“Is she...?”

“Dead?” Severin muttered thickly, swinging his bloodshot gaze onto the fox. “She isn’t moving, isn’t making a sound.”

The fox hummed and crept forward, kneeling beside Thorn’s body. He dropped his hand in front of her muzzle. After a moment, Stolin looked up and regarded the knight with a subdued smile.

“She’s alive.”

Severin gaped. He reached out a hand and rested it tentatively against the ottermaiden’s brow.

“Thank the Fates.”

Stolin stood and whistled. Severin remained oblivious as the scouts returned, each dragging the remaining beasts in Fioran’s crew. The one who had reported back earlier nodded at the fox.

“Observin’ the whole bit from the brush over there, these two were. They were decidin’ whether to run or put the otters to th’ blade. Right lads?”

The rat snarled a curse and received a generous slap for it.

“They can help us bury their dead mates,” Stolin said. “Is the healer coming?”

One of the other guards nodded. “Just around the last bend with Rullen.”

Severin was slumped over beside Thorn by the time the healer arrived, a wildcat with pursed lips and a growling voice. A circle of reinforcements surrounded what was left of Fioran’s camp. The knight raised his head and regarded the newcomers with glassy eyes.

“Get them on stretchers,” the cat snapped, gesturing at the otters. “Tend to the maiden first. Assess injuries, work on what’s worst. Kaleb, stay by her side the entire way to the infirmary or I’ll make a roast out of you.”

Severin felt himself being lifted up and deposited onto a stretcher made from coarse burlap. Hands moved over him, removing the tattered remains of his tunic and unbuckling the leg brace. The wildcat’s face loomed over him.

“Still awake? Good. You’re cut up worse than an old rag and I’d be surprised if you had a pint of blood left in you.”

“Your professional...assessment?” Severin muttered, head lolling.

The wildcat flashed a wicked grin. “No, my professional assessment is that it looks like you’ve had the innards kicked out of you. By my count you have two cracked ribs, three broken fingers, and your boxed knee is swollen larger than a badger’s head. Happy?”

Severin took a breath to respond and promptly – blessedly – lost consciousness.

ooc: I hope that's okay -- I'll change it if it's not. Would you like to start another thread in the infirmary or carry on with something else?

[Keleanth Windspiral]

OOC: We can move to the infirmary if you'd like. If not then something else is just fine. Just let me know where to start!

[Bowen Lark]

ooc: Alrighty, I'll start something at the infirmary.