Redwall Rp: The Feet of Thunder (Looking for another player, Pm to gm)
- Thread starter Redryhno
- Start date
No, Rakkety Tam talks with a ridiculously thick Scottish accent despite being the POV character, and I'm pretty sure that isn't the only time a POV character has had an accent. And anyway, if that way out works, it should be good enough for Aken too.
Sure thing, Frek is a rat of very few words as you probably saw in my last post but like drmigit2 said I'm going to make sure his minions have the traditional cockney/ pirate-esque way of speaking
"They got meat." Said Frek. "Meat an beer"
He then let out a vicious snarl at Temero who Frek had just realised had insulted him when he came in.
"Before we beg'n," The gravelly, yet somehow higher pitched voice said,"I mus' know more of this Redwall Abbey. What are the stories, the legends, the truths, the myths, and most importantly..." He paused and looked around at each beast in the eye before continuing,"What they 'ave o' worth.
Temero looked at the beast hidden in the shadows, his scepter's light being the only thing shining on him, illuminating his eyes. Once this whole revolution was over, it only made sense to remove such an imposing creature. After all, who else should rule except Temero, even Tavis had to see it and was simply acting as a stepping stone for him. Tavis was now looking at him in the eye, The clean rat was not a fan of this. Every time he did that, Temero was sure Tavis would attempt to cut him in half or something. Then Frek, same as Tavis, though somehow a bit more stupid and even less powerful. Temero was confused as to why anyone would ever serve such an uncharasmatic beast. "Oh, I would avoid making such rude noises Frek. Else should the onus fall on another to help captain the Thunderfoots."
Temero turned his attention back to the more important matter at hand. "As for the Redwallers." He began, "I have never been there myself, but the stories I have heard range from a destitute place of suffering, to an absolute nirvana of pleasure. I would imagine that it falls somewhere in between. While their outward military strength is lackluster, they have a defensive gate that could prove rather troublesome if not removed from the situation. As for who lives in there, I would imagine that would consist of the normal assortment of mice, moles and the like. What is troubling, is that they have more than a few hares." Temero looked down at his scepter and back up again. "As for what they have of worth, little is known of it, but I could guarantee supplies would be the main treasure we would gather. Weapons and armor may be in large supply too. On top of that, it would be a valuable fortress and much more accommodating to one such as mine and yourself Tavis. Can't subsist inside decrepit tents forever can we? This might be a ticket to a deservedly higher lifestyle from now on." Temero had a large smile on, the idea of being pampered by those who serve him for once sounded more than ideal.
Temero looked at the beast hidden in the shadows, his scepter's light being the only thing shining on him, illuminating his eyes. Once this whole revolution was over, it only made sense to remove such an imposing creature. After all, who else should rule except Temero, even Tavis had to see it and was simply acting as a stepping stone for him. Tavis was now looking at him in the eye, The clean rat was not a fan of this. Every time he did that, Temero was sure Tavis would attempt to cut him in half or something. Then Frek, same as Tavis, though somehow a bit more stupid and even less powerful. Temero was confused as to why anyone would ever serve such an uncharasmatic beast. "Oh, I would avoid making such rude noises Frek. Else should the onus fall on another to help captain the Thunderfoots."
Temero turned his attention back to the more important matter at hand. "As for the Redwallers." He began, "I have never been there myself, but the stories I have heard range from a destitute place of suffering, to an absolute nirvana of pleasure. I would imagine that it falls somewhere in between. While their outward military strength is lackluster, they have a defensive gate that could prove rather troublesome if not removed from the situation. As for who lives in there, I would imagine that would consist of the normal assortment of mice, moles and the like. What is troubling, is that they have more than a few hares." Temero looked down at his scepter and back up again. "As for what they have of worth, little is known of it, but I could guarantee supplies would be the main treasure we would gather. Weapons and armor may be in large supply too. On top of that, it would be a valuable fortress and much more accommodating to one such as mine and yourself Tavis. Can't subsist inside decrepit tents forever can we? This might be a ticket to a deservedly higher lifestyle from now on." Temero had a large smile on, the idea of being pampered by those who serve him for once sounded more than ideal.
"Drink up, you bottomless pit of a beast. It's terrible I tell you, a single hare can outeat any score of other beasts, and now we have two! Two I say! Here, right at Redwall Abbey, heavens, I do hope we are able to gather enough food for the winter so that these two won't starve!" Her grin was proof that she jested, about most of it anyways.
Rillibomp twirled a whisker around his finger, making a jestingly embarrassed face Roselia's little joke the moment before. It was difficult to describe the sheer amount of ludicrousness that he could twist his face into, but this one just might have taken the cake.
"Oh, Roselia, such a roight charmer ar'n't' we?"
He gulped down a swig of the ale, and wiped his mouth before sighing in contentment. "Can't speak much of much for the other hare, 'fraid I never had the splendifical pleasure of meetin' him 'fore he came to Redwall. But, though it pains me, I suppose I might be able to make a few bloomin' cuts to me diet for winter. Maybe out-eat half'a score'r'somethin' 'long those lines?"
Rillibomp chortled a bit at his own joked before settling down. He rested in silence for a few moments, letting his tapping foot do all the communication of joy he needed. After taking a particularly deep whiff of the brews surrounding him, he deigned to speak again.
"So, ey wot, If'n this is all the drink, and the Friar's makin' all the scrumptious morsels and tidbits, is there much left t'do 'round these halls? Seems we're roight-set on bringin' in the morrow in a real Redwallical fashion, if I might say so meself."
Rillibomp twirled a whisker around his finger, making a jestingly embarrassed face Roselia's little joke the moment before. It was difficult to describe the sheer amount of ludicrousness that he could twist his face into, but this one just might have taken the cake.
"Oh, Roselia, such a roight charmer ar'n't' we?"
He gulped down a swig of the ale, and wiped his mouth before sighing in contentment. "Can't speak much of much for the other hare, 'fraid I never had the splendifical pleasure of meetin' him 'fore he came to Redwall. But, though it pains me, I suppose I might be able to make a few bloomin' cuts to me diet for winter. Maybe out-eat half'a score'r'somethin' 'long those lines?"
Rillibomp chortled a bit at his own joked before settling down. He rested in silence for a few moments, letting his tapping foot do all the communication of joy he needed. After taking a particularly deep whiff of the brews surrounding him, he deigned to speak again.
"So, ey wot, If'n this is all the drink, and the Friar's makin' all the scrumptious morsels and tidbits, is there much left t'do 'round these halls? Seems we're roight-set on bringin' in the morrow in a real Redwallical fashion, if I might say so meself."
Quinn tossed another fine fish into the basket by the side of the pond. Enough for the days feast. He lay on his back, keeping half an eye on the dibbuns as he floated slowly away from the edge.
Nice gentlebeasts living here... Still, I want the excitement of the river.
"Mar, would ye be interested in leavin' th' abbey walls later this day?" he said lazily in the water.
"I feel as if staying in here too long will make me forget the majesty of the forest."
Nice gentlebeasts living here... Still, I want the excitement of the river.
"Mar, would ye be interested in leavin' th' abbey walls later this day?" he said lazily in the water.
"I feel as if staying in here too long will make me forget the majesty of the forest."
"My knowledge is that there walls are tall and thick. I can't recall the tale I heard seasons ago, I shall try my best to remember sir". Farhaar picked at a lose splinter under the table while watching Temero squirm under Tivas' gaze. He was glad that never had he sat at that table. Tivas always burnt holes through everyone there. Which is why the fox always kept off to the far side of the tent, out of his eye. Quippa always glanced over at him when the war meetings occurred. She didn't trust him, for good reason probably. He always shot her back a look of ice, a don't trifle with me type. Farhaar broke the splinter loose. He rolled it in between his fingers. Quippa was again looking at him again. The fox tossed the splinter to the ground between them. If it could be seen a bolt of lightning would of shot from both to the other.
"Go onee 'e young squirrol, I bees sure 'appy 'ere in 'e sunloight, burr aye. Go onee and see wot Friary Lommel needs 'elp withee. Oi'll stayee roight 'ere and play with 'e likkle ones."
"Alright Father; just try to make sure that the Dibbuns don't accidentally drown. It'd be a shame for Redwall's Abbot to pass away just before he retires. We'd probably have to cancel the feast!" Leaving Father Monty to slowly trundle his way over to the pond and screaming youngsters, Malcolm began to mosey back to the kitchens. There was no need to hurry; the kitchens and the Friar would still be right where he'd left them, and Mal felt that he'd had enough of the blazing hot ovens to deserve a break.
Redwall's lawns were beautiful this time of year: fresh shoots were sprouting in the gardens, flowers were blooming, the trees were a verdant shade of green, and many of the Abbey-beasts were outside, enjoying an afternoon of wonderfully warm sunshine. It was almost enough to convince Malcolm to abandon the rest of his duties, gather up some friends, and spend the rest of the day getting into mischief.
However, Friar Lommel was infamous for punishing absentee assistants; the young squirrel shuddered to think of long nights spent scrubbing pots and pans as punishment. No, he'd have to return to the kitchens soon enough. But, Mal mused as he walked back through the Abbey's massive doors, nobody would know if he made a short stop along the way.
The stairway leading down to the cellars was blessedly cool, especially after working in the kitchens all day. As Malcolm descended down the large stone steps, he caught a few snippets of conversation from the trio of beasts gathered around a tankard of ale, Anselm, Roselia, and, of course, Rilibomp. Biting back a curse, the young squirrel stopped to rethink his plan; while he didn't think Rilibomp would scold him for shirking his duties, neither the cellarhog nor badgermum would react well to Mal's presence. Nothing for it but to sneak, I suppose.
Seasons of trouble-making and ill-advised adventures throughout Redwall had given Malcolm a decent knowledge of hiding spots and overlooked areas within the Abbey. For example, there happened to be a string of shadows along the cellar wall that always seemed to escape the notice of older beasts.
As Rilibomp and Roselia jested back and forth, Malcolm quietly slunk into the shadow's dark embrace, walking on the tip of his paws and scarcely daring to breathe. His was a bit of a circuitous route, between rows of casks, kegs, and firkins, and ducking into the occasional alcove, but Mal eventually made it to his destination: a small keg of strawberry fizz, which (Unbeknownst to the diligent cellarhog) had a small hole knocked into its backside. Snatching up a hidden cup, and undoing the plug in the back of the tiny barrel, Mal grinned as a pink stream of bubbly liquid poured into his cup. The drink was tasty and delightfully cool, and the young squirrel decided to help himself to another cupful before he headed back upstairs.
"Alright Father; just try to make sure that the Dibbuns don't accidentally drown. It'd be a shame for Redwall's Abbot to pass away just before he retires. We'd probably have to cancel the feast!" Leaving Father Monty to slowly trundle his way over to the pond and screaming youngsters, Malcolm began to mosey back to the kitchens. There was no need to hurry; the kitchens and the Friar would still be right where he'd left them, and Mal felt that he'd had enough of the blazing hot ovens to deserve a break.
Redwall's lawns were beautiful this time of year: fresh shoots were sprouting in the gardens, flowers were blooming, the trees were a verdant shade of green, and many of the Abbey-beasts were outside, enjoying an afternoon of wonderfully warm sunshine. It was almost enough to convince Malcolm to abandon the rest of his duties, gather up some friends, and spend the rest of the day getting into mischief.
However, Friar Lommel was infamous for punishing absentee assistants; the young squirrel shuddered to think of long nights spent scrubbing pots and pans as punishment. No, he'd have to return to the kitchens soon enough. But, Mal mused as he walked back through the Abbey's massive doors, nobody would know if he made a short stop along the way.
The stairway leading down to the cellars was blessedly cool, especially after working in the kitchens all day. As Malcolm descended down the large stone steps, he caught a few snippets of conversation from the trio of beasts gathered around a tankard of ale, Anselm, Roselia, and, of course, Rilibomp. Biting back a curse, the young squirrel stopped to rethink his plan; while he didn't think Rilibomp would scold him for shirking his duties, neither the cellarhog nor badgermum would react well to Mal's presence. Nothing for it but to sneak, I suppose.
Seasons of trouble-making and ill-advised adventures throughout Redwall had given Malcolm a decent knowledge of hiding spots and overlooked areas within the Abbey. For example, there happened to be a string of shadows along the cellar wall that always seemed to escape the notice of older beasts.
As Rilibomp and Roselia jested back and forth, Malcolm quietly slunk into the shadow's dark embrace, walking on the tip of his paws and scarcely daring to breathe. His was a bit of a circuitous route, between rows of casks, kegs, and firkins, and ducking into the occasional alcove, but Mal eventually made it to his destination: a small keg of strawberry fizz, which (Unbeknownst to the diligent cellarhog) had a small hole knocked into its backside. Snatching up a hidden cup, and undoing the plug in the back of the tiny barrel, Mal grinned as a pink stream of bubbly liquid poured into his cup. The drink was tasty and delightfully cool, and the young squirrel decided to help himself to another cupful before he headed back upstairs.
The cloaked vermin continued to sit on his throne and listened to his captains, each very good at what they did, each bringing something to the table that could be manipulated and used to his benefit.
"It is decid'd, 'den, we maarchh on Redwall Abbey, and tek it from the wek bests that inhabit its walls. Tell your bests we st'rt at dun. 'Nd we be keepin' the big rabbits 'live until I say otherwise." The gigantic warlord then stood from his throne, his ripped and torn ears touching the roof, whearas the tallest of the captains would be hard-pressed to touch it even should they stand on his throne, a crime punishable by a wicked coal-raking before being tossed back out into the world, if not simply killed.
He swept it around himself, a slight tinkling of chains the only other sound he made as he exited the tent with Quippa and Jararavick flanking him. One by one, the captains of Thunderfoot's horde left, and each returned to their section of the camp. Frek to his blood-stained vermin, Temero his Band of Fifteen, Farhaar to his small elite band of infiltrators, skirmishers, and general all-around sneaky-beasts, and finally Aken to Marcus Vodd the mouse-like rat in his tent. The Northland fox's soldiers looked and watched as he passed each of them, some standing and giving their version of salutes, others bowing to him, still some groveled as he passed by.
"Gat'er the beasties oop, Vodd, Tavis 'ad a proclamation and Ahm the one supposed 'ta issue it 'ta mah ranks."
"Yessir, you want I make 'em filed in, 'r jus' gather' aroun'?"
"Rrrrrank and file, Vodd. I nee' them ta see mah and we abou' to 'ave marchin' ordahs."
"Very good, sah." The small rat put his hands behind his back, where a long dagger with a serrated blade and chipped point sat in his belt. Gripping it tightly he slowly drew it as Aken's back was turned. Just as he was about to make the plunge, the fox quickly spun back, having gathered his few belongings together in his pack, sword in his left paw, pack in his right. A glint of surprise passed through his eyes a moment before he slammed the pack into the side of the rat's head, sending him through the tent flaps and flailing as he fell through the air and rolled down the soggy hill Aken's tent was situated on.
"This be how ya repa' mah, Vodd? I don' beat you, I listen to ya and this is wha ya do ta me?" The fox growled, very much enraged, pulling his sword out of its sheath and slowly walking down the hill towards the rat scrambling to his feet.
"Aken's gone soft in the 'ead 'e 'as!" The rat screamed out, to which more than a few beasts took up arms and started for Aken, though just as many rushed to his defense. The fight was short, but fierce, with Aken slaying many of his own beasts to live, when it was all said and done however, Aken and Marcus Vodd challenged each other to single combat.
"Youse gone soft in 'e 'ead boss. You don't deseve to lead usbeasts nomores!"
"Yah weel regrit this uprisin', Ah'll kill you all and take your guts for mah bannah!"
The fight started out with Vodd simply avoiding Aken's strikes and moving around the circle that had formed, supporters for both Aken and Vodd's claim to leadership. The circled tightened as the fight continued however, with neither side scoring a solid hit. With a cry of, "Aken's a groundsquirrel!" He charged in, ducking under the sword that Aken swung, a confident look on his face as he looked behind the fox. He squeeked once as he impaled himself on the Northlander fox's dagger, straight through the heart. The rat toppled, scoring a single slice across Aken's chest, deep too, as it began to bleed profusely.
"An' that, my beasts, is wh-URGHHHH!" A half-dozen arrows sprouted from Aken Monshar's back then, followed by a score of beasts charging in from both directions, spears at the ready as they pierced his hide, leaving him to bleed out on the bloodied ground. As he lay there bleeding, dying, a single face appeared directly in front of him. A face that had more akin to foxes than his own species of stoat.
"While you be layin' there bleedin', I've got sommat to say to you,"He whispered,"You should know that they only followed you because I tol' them to. Your weaknesses proved too much of a hindrance, Aken, so I resolved to take a position much more suitable to me, namely your own. Vodd was easy to manipulate, and now that I've weeded out the deserters in my new force, Tavis will be quite proud that there was at least one beast that spoke out against your claims of being better suited to lead this horde. The strongest are the ones that prosper, something you may have been once, before you became senile and weak."
And with that, Aken Monshar's eyes clouded over and the final thing he saw, was his paw bereft of his signet ring, and now on Reckat Trapjaw's. Aken Monshar was dead, betrayed by his own men, and killed by the workings of a single stoat he'd allowed to join his ranks based off his quick wits and abilities.
"It is decid'd, 'den, we maarchh on Redwall Abbey, and tek it from the wek bests that inhabit its walls. Tell your bests we st'rt at dun. 'Nd we be keepin' the big rabbits 'live until I say otherwise." The gigantic warlord then stood from his throne, his ripped and torn ears touching the roof, whearas the tallest of the captains would be hard-pressed to touch it even should they stand on his throne, a crime punishable by a wicked coal-raking before being tossed back out into the world, if not simply killed.
He swept it around himself, a slight tinkling of chains the only other sound he made as he exited the tent with Quippa and Jararavick flanking him. One by one, the captains of Thunderfoot's horde left, and each returned to their section of the camp. Frek to his blood-stained vermin, Temero his Band of Fifteen, Farhaar to his small elite band of infiltrators, skirmishers, and general all-around sneaky-beasts, and finally Aken to Marcus Vodd the mouse-like rat in his tent. The Northland fox's soldiers looked and watched as he passed each of them, some standing and giving their version of salutes, others bowing to him, still some groveled as he passed by.
"Gat'er the beasties oop, Vodd, Tavis 'ad a proclamation and Ahm the one supposed 'ta issue it 'ta mah ranks."
"Yessir, you want I make 'em filed in, 'r jus' gather' aroun'?"
"Rrrrrank and file, Vodd. I nee' them ta see mah and we abou' to 'ave marchin' ordahs."
"Very good, sah." The small rat put his hands behind his back, where a long dagger with a serrated blade and chipped point sat in his belt. Gripping it tightly he slowly drew it as Aken's back was turned. Just as he was about to make the plunge, the fox quickly spun back, having gathered his few belongings together in his pack, sword in his left paw, pack in his right. A glint of surprise passed through his eyes a moment before he slammed the pack into the side of the rat's head, sending him through the tent flaps and flailing as he fell through the air and rolled down the soggy hill Aken's tent was situated on.
"This be how ya repa' mah, Vodd? I don' beat you, I listen to ya and this is wha ya do ta me?" The fox growled, very much enraged, pulling his sword out of its sheath and slowly walking down the hill towards the rat scrambling to his feet.
"Aken's gone soft in the 'ead 'e 'as!" The rat screamed out, to which more than a few beasts took up arms and started for Aken, though just as many rushed to his defense. The fight was short, but fierce, with Aken slaying many of his own beasts to live, when it was all said and done however, Aken and Marcus Vodd challenged each other to single combat.
"Youse gone soft in 'e 'ead boss. You don't deseve to lead usbeasts nomores!"
"Yah weel regrit this uprisin', Ah'll kill you all and take your guts for mah bannah!"
The fight started out with Vodd simply avoiding Aken's strikes and moving around the circle that had formed, supporters for both Aken and Vodd's claim to leadership. The circled tightened as the fight continued however, with neither side scoring a solid hit. With a cry of, "Aken's a groundsquirrel!" He charged in, ducking under the sword that Aken swung, a confident look on his face as he looked behind the fox. He squeeked once as he impaled himself on the Northlander fox's dagger, straight through the heart. The rat toppled, scoring a single slice across Aken's chest, deep too, as it began to bleed profusely.
"An' that, my beasts, is wh-URGHHHH!" A half-dozen arrows sprouted from Aken Monshar's back then, followed by a score of beasts charging in from both directions, spears at the ready as they pierced his hide, leaving him to bleed out on the bloodied ground. As he lay there bleeding, dying, a single face appeared directly in front of him. A face that had more akin to foxes than his own species of stoat.
"While you be layin' there bleedin', I've got sommat to say to you,"He whispered,"You should know that they only followed you because I tol' them to. Your weaknesses proved too much of a hindrance, Aken, so I resolved to take a position much more suitable to me, namely your own. Vodd was easy to manipulate, and now that I've weeded out the deserters in my new force, Tavis will be quite proud that there was at least one beast that spoke out against your claims of being better suited to lead this horde. The strongest are the ones that prosper, something you may have been once, before you became senile and weak."
And with that, Aken Monshar's eyes clouded over and the final thing he saw, was his paw bereft of his signet ring, and now on Reckat Trapjaw's. Aken Monshar was dead, betrayed by his own men, and killed by the workings of a single stoat he'd allowed to join his ranks based off his quick wits and abilities.
I figured that since you have so much free time that I shouldn't let it be wasted on my rp.
Rules apply to you just like everyone else, yet you are the only one that decided they didn't and argued too many times for me to be comfortable with you staying here.
So goodbye, and may your future endeavors not be so.....antagonistic.
Rules apply to you just like everyone else, yet you are the only one that decided they didn't and argued too many times for me to be comfortable with you staying here.
So goodbye, and may your future endeavors not be so.....antagonistic.
I only argue with you because you don't know jack about RPing or even very much about the setting you're trying to work with. Enjoy crashing and burning.
Aren't you dead? If you only argue because I supposedly don't know jack about rp'ing, then why the hell did you join this in the first place and why did you stay, hmm? From my experience you end up arguing with every Gm you join on one thing or another or you decide to not grace us with your majestic presence(if you can't tell I'm being sarcastic that's why I'm telling you now, can't have your head swelling up even more than it already is), so why rp in the first place?
As for the source material, I admit, I haven't gotten around to reading them in years, but was it really so much to ask that you do more than simply act/talk/etc.(because we have to apparently spell everything out for you) as if you're a fox in the middle from Tennessee?
As for your accusation that I know jackshit(I know you left off the shit part, but I feel it's necessary to make everything abundantly clear to you for some reason, I have no idea why) about RP, I can't do much more than laugh and continue to drink my coffee in helpless mirth. According to your profile, you're somewhere around 17, and have probably been RP'ing since around maybe, maybe, you were twelve. Meanwhile, I've been making crap up, playing with all sorts of people(only one other which was as annoying to play with as you, though she rates higher simply because she was drunk at the time and the even simpler fact being that I'm dating her nowadays), making up stories in at least a dozen different settings and a dozen different systems since about the time I was born, so don't you even start talking about how much experience you have and how only you know what it is to roleplay.
If you still feel slighted,(angry, just so you don't have to go typing it into your searchbar) please, go on, continue this in PM(private message, smart one) form and quit clogging up my rp with your pointless drivel. Thank you for having the patience for once to read through a whole message. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've an rp to run.
As for the source material, I admit, I haven't gotten around to reading them in years, but was it really so much to ask that you do more than simply act/talk/etc.(because we have to apparently spell everything out for you) as if you're a fox in the middle from Tennessee?
As for your accusation that I know jackshit(I know you left off the shit part, but I feel it's necessary to make everything abundantly clear to you for some reason, I have no idea why) about RP, I can't do much more than laugh and continue to drink my coffee in helpless mirth. According to your profile, you're somewhere around 17, and have probably been RP'ing since around maybe, maybe, you were twelve. Meanwhile, I've been making crap up, playing with all sorts of people(only one other which was as annoying to play with as you, though she rates higher simply because she was drunk at the time and the even simpler fact being that I'm dating her nowadays), making up stories in at least a dozen different settings and a dozen different systems since about the time I was born, so don't you even start talking about how much experience you have and how only you know what it is to roleplay.
If you still feel slighted,(angry, just so you don't have to go typing it into your searchbar) please, go on, continue this in PM(private message, smart one) form and quit clogging up my rp with your pointless drivel. Thank you for having the patience for once to read through a whole message. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've an rp to run.
No, you started this in your thread so I'm going to keep going. First of all, learn to do math. 1992 was -20- years ago, not 17. Jesus Christ, man, that's pathetic.
Secondly, what have you made up here? This RP is essentially 'Yeah, Redwall RP, man'. Look, maybe you're a halfway decent RPer sometime, but the simple fact of the matter is that you're godawful on here. You accept my character and then tell me how -I- should play him despite the fact that I haven't done anything with my character off other than not use the Rockjaw Grang accent which -isn't- standard for Northerners, in fact most of the Northerners that have shown up in the Redwall series didn't use it - like the aforementioned Luke, Luke's entire tribe, Martin the Warrior, Vilu Daskar, and just about every other character from Martin the Warrior and Legend of Luke that wasn't a hare or a mole.
As for why I joined it, reasons were manyfold. One, I have nostalgic feelings for Redwall, and kind of thought I could elevate it above the kind of drivel you'd undoubtably drive it to. (and given how you've essentially told everyone to behave in a completely, ramrod straight approach without the slightest degree of nuance despite my pointing out that Redwall is actually a -lot- more nuanced than you seem to think it is) Two, because I was bored and enjoy creating characters. And three, because I think you're a tool and I was hoping to annoy you.
Also, it's pretty rich that you snark on my age given that yours isn't even listed. I don't really care, it's just amusing. You could be 35 and have RPed for decades and you'd still be incompetent. Experience is important, but the skill is innate. I'll admit I haven't had a lot of success with my own RPs on here, them being extremely overambitious, but I can't think of any but the most dull who would take this bit of nothing over Shattered Galaxy, Acherus, or Crown of Albion.
Also, my Fox didn't talk like he was from Tennessee. He talked in Standard English, this is true, but he spoke closer to a modernized Arthurian noble than anything else. Do you actually know how Tennesseeans speak? I doubt you do, I'd be very surprised if you'd ever been here, and even more surprised if you'd set foot in Memphis. I say that because you wouldn't make these suggestions.
By the way, the over the top insults to my intelligence really don't make you look any more smart, and they really don't incline me towards ceasing with my irritating of you, particularly since with every grievance you've had against me I've blown it so far out of the water your complaints might as well have been Team Rocket - to be quickly ignored by you, of course.
So in conclusion, if you want me to stop taunting you in your thread, take it to PMs or be quiet.
Secondly, what have you made up here? This RP is essentially 'Yeah, Redwall RP, man'. Look, maybe you're a halfway decent RPer sometime, but the simple fact of the matter is that you're godawful on here. You accept my character and then tell me how -I- should play him despite the fact that I haven't done anything with my character off other than not use the Rockjaw Grang accent which -isn't- standard for Northerners, in fact most of the Northerners that have shown up in the Redwall series didn't use it - like the aforementioned Luke, Luke's entire tribe, Martin the Warrior, Vilu Daskar, and just about every other character from Martin the Warrior and Legend of Luke that wasn't a hare or a mole.
As for why I joined it, reasons were manyfold. One, I have nostalgic feelings for Redwall, and kind of thought I could elevate it above the kind of drivel you'd undoubtably drive it to. (and given how you've essentially told everyone to behave in a completely, ramrod straight approach without the slightest degree of nuance despite my pointing out that Redwall is actually a -lot- more nuanced than you seem to think it is) Two, because I was bored and enjoy creating characters. And three, because I think you're a tool and I was hoping to annoy you.
Also, it's pretty rich that you snark on my age given that yours isn't even listed. I don't really care, it's just amusing. You could be 35 and have RPed for decades and you'd still be incompetent. Experience is important, but the skill is innate. I'll admit I haven't had a lot of success with my own RPs on here, them being extremely overambitious, but I can't think of any but the most dull who would take this bit of nothing over Shattered Galaxy, Acherus, or Crown of Albion.
Also, my Fox didn't talk like he was from Tennessee. He talked in Standard English, this is true, but he spoke closer to a modernized Arthurian noble than anything else. Do you actually know how Tennesseeans speak? I doubt you do, I'd be very surprised if you'd ever been here, and even more surprised if you'd set foot in Memphis. I say that because you wouldn't make these suggestions.
By the way, the over the top insults to my intelligence really don't make you look any more smart, and they really don't incline me towards ceasing with my irritating of you, particularly since with every grievance you've had against me I've blown it so far out of the water your complaints might as well have been Team Rocket - to be quickly ignored by you, of course.
So in conclusion, if you want me to stop taunting you in your thread, take it to PMs or be quiet.
As Temero returned to his Band of Fifteen, he saw Jarco running about as fast as he could, the rat looked like a fireball with his orange fur. "M'lord M'lord! Aken the Fosk lay' dead he does! Ax'd by his own stoat! Th' troops ah lookin for on' such as ye self to take his stead. Y' up fer it?" Temero looked at the panicked and said calmly "Do simmer down a bit Jarco. I may decide later to incorporate the now dead Aken's army to mine, but for now there are more pressing matters. Rally up the Band of Fifteen, also, contact Mostoran and Antriro. Their services will be needed when the assault begins." Jarco took a few deep breaths before returning to his normal composure. He said smiling "Yes m'lord, right away!". In many ways, Temero considered Jarco to be his best friend. Sticking with him from the humble beginning with only fifteen, to the slaughter of his old village and now, with an entire army at Temero's disposal, Jarco and possibly Antriro were the only two worth trusting. Mostoran was unreliable and could possibly revolt, which would make Aken's forces a worthwhile possession. That, or simply having Mostoran killed in this battle could suffice.
The entire horde was stirring with the latest development. Another rat captain did not sit well with some of the horde. Afraid that afterwards, they might be made second class citizens. A messenger stoat came to Temero. Temero was less than amused, after just having gone through another near death experience talking to Tavis, what more could happen? "This had better be good. Don't tell me Tavis wants me to-" the stoat interrupted "Lord Tavis deman's yeh go an' address th' people m'cap'n they are gettin nervy 'bout Aken's death. Reckat is now their cap'in n' ah hope you c'n inform th' horde that they dun' need to fear a rat dominated leadership." The stoat ran off to tell Tavis that the message had been sent. Temero sighed heavily, Every single time that buffoon can't make a single damned speech, he sends that blasted stoat to act superior and talk down to a captain for once. Keep staying smug, when I take over, you will be the second one executed after Tavis."
Temero got on top of a soap box and began motioning for the Horde's attention. After a bit of scurrying and moving, most of the horde's officers had gathered. Temero cleared his throat and said loudly "Friends and fellow compatriots. I Temero, have come today to issue forth a deep saddening that our old comrade Aken had betrayed our ranks and had to be killed. It is with a heavy heart, that I welcome our new captain Reckat and that I hope he lasts. Some of you, are worried about the change in leadership. Worry not! Our leaders may mostly be rats, but we are all serving our roles with you in mind. Now, we are about to march on the Redwall Abby, we do not need to worry about trivial matters such as this. Rest well, and come tomorrow, be prepared for a fight!
As the easily moved beasts cheered, Temero absorbed himself in the power a speaker holds. Some day, he will use this to elevate himself even further than his current position. Many fear Tavis, but even with his size, arrows are still stronger than any hide.
The entire horde was stirring with the latest development. Another rat captain did not sit well with some of the horde. Afraid that afterwards, they might be made second class citizens. A messenger stoat came to Temero. Temero was less than amused, after just having gone through another near death experience talking to Tavis, what more could happen? "This had better be good. Don't tell me Tavis wants me to-" the stoat interrupted "Lord Tavis deman's yeh go an' address th' people m'cap'n they are gettin nervy 'bout Aken's death. Reckat is now their cap'in n' ah hope you c'n inform th' horde that they dun' need to fear a rat dominated leadership." The stoat ran off to tell Tavis that the message had been sent. Temero sighed heavily, Every single time that buffoon can't make a single damned speech, he sends that blasted stoat to act superior and talk down to a captain for once. Keep staying smug, when I take over, you will be the second one executed after Tavis."
Temero got on top of a soap box and began motioning for the Horde's attention. After a bit of scurrying and moving, most of the horde's officers had gathered. Temero cleared his throat and said loudly "Friends and fellow compatriots. I Temero, have come today to issue forth a deep saddening that our old comrade Aken had betrayed our ranks and had to be killed. It is with a heavy heart, that I welcome our new captain Reckat and that I hope he lasts. Some of you, are worried about the change in leadership. Worry not! Our leaders may mostly be rats, but we are all serving our roles with you in mind. Now, we are about to march on the Redwall Abby, we do not need to worry about trivial matters such as this. Rest well, and come tomorrow, be prepared for a fight!
As the easily moved beasts cheered, Temero absorbed himself in the power a speaker holds. Some day, he will use this to elevate himself even further than his current position. Many fear Tavis, but even with his size, arrows are still stronger than any hide.
Novice Malcolm stood at the top of the Belltower, prepared to begin the tolling when in the distance, he spotted a group of goodbeasts jogging up the road to the front gate. A collection of otters and Guosim shrews, judging by their colorful sashes sullied up to the gate and began battering on it within minutes of Mal ringing the bells, who then scampered down the stairs, and opened the gates. The group flooded in, with many hips and hoorahs and a number of "Logalogalogaloga-LOOOOOOOGGG" from both the shrews and otters. Abbot Monty, along with the current wielder of Martin's sword, Jezebell the otter, and the current runner of the Infirmary, Marigold the mouse arrived a few seconds later.
"Eh, Skipper,"Jeze said,"How's the river downstrim?"
"Oh, come now Jezee, we both know how the river be doing down there, when're you coming back home? Ma won't stop talking about you and how you haven't been down by her neck of the woods in two seasons."The two siblings embraced in a hug, Skipper almost crushing his sister against his bulk.
"Anyways, we've got a strange little fellow here, a weasel that defending this here family of field mice. Never really know what to do with the buggers meself, besides kill 'em of course, but this one's different. Log-a-Log's boys're taking care of the mice right now, think they need a place to stay since their home got swiped by some rats the weasel was traveling with."
The leader of the shrews stepped forward, not even half the size of the Skipper, but easily his better in dexterity and speed in general.
"O, 'is so noice to see you agin, Log-a-Log, it's been a roight fair bit of seasons since you came 'ere, burr aye" The wizened Abbot said.
"Abbot Monty, my predecessor passed on two seasons, ago, I haven't been here since I was a Dibbun."
The Abbot rubbed his beady eyes and looked again at the shrew standing in front of him,"Oh! I'm sorry, I be gettin' too old for this anymore, burr aye. Would you maybe like to stay for 'e next few days, we've got 'e Mid-Summer's Feast tonoight and next few noights"
Log-a-Log replied with the family of field mice, saying they needed a place to stay, though they were too afraid and too proud to say it themselves. Jezebell and the otters took them inside to the feast, where it had not yet begun and the Dibbuns were watching a show put on by a few of the kitchen staff who were not needed for the final preparations and carrying out the many dishes that had been slaved over the last few days.
Marigold looked over the weasel and abruptly recruited a few of the Guosim to cart him up to the infirmary, saying that his wounds were grave and that if they wanted to find out more about this strange beast that they needed to get him there quickly. He ran ahead, to get space, herbs, and bandages prepared before he got there.
Inside the Great Hall a short while later, beasts of all sizes and shapes were gathered around the great table, where an assortment of pies, salads, breads, cheeses, and cakes lined the plates of everybeast there, some (the hares in particular) waited in agonizing silence before the Abbot asked for Martin, the founders of Redwall, and everybeast before that had lived there watched over them, and then asked the current residents to help to keep it a place of freedom, happiness, and friendship.
"Eh, Skipper,"Jeze said,"How's the river downstrim?"
"Oh, come now Jezee, we both know how the river be doing down there, when're you coming back home? Ma won't stop talking about you and how you haven't been down by her neck of the woods in two seasons."The two siblings embraced in a hug, Skipper almost crushing his sister against his bulk.
"Anyways, we've got a strange little fellow here, a weasel that defending this here family of field mice. Never really know what to do with the buggers meself, besides kill 'em of course, but this one's different. Log-a-Log's boys're taking care of the mice right now, think they need a place to stay since their home got swiped by some rats the weasel was traveling with."
The leader of the shrews stepped forward, not even half the size of the Skipper, but easily his better in dexterity and speed in general.
"O, 'is so noice to see you agin, Log-a-Log, it's been a roight fair bit of seasons since you came 'ere, burr aye" The wizened Abbot said.
"Abbot Monty, my predecessor passed on two seasons, ago, I haven't been here since I was a Dibbun."
The Abbot rubbed his beady eyes and looked again at the shrew standing in front of him,"Oh! I'm sorry, I be gettin' too old for this anymore, burr aye. Would you maybe like to stay for 'e next few days, we've got 'e Mid-Summer's Feast tonoight and next few noights"
Log-a-Log replied with the family of field mice, saying they needed a place to stay, though they were too afraid and too proud to say it themselves. Jezebell and the otters took them inside to the feast, where it had not yet begun and the Dibbuns were watching a show put on by a few of the kitchen staff who were not needed for the final preparations and carrying out the many dishes that had been slaved over the last few days.
Marigold looked over the weasel and abruptly recruited a few of the Guosim to cart him up to the infirmary, saying that his wounds were grave and that if they wanted to find out more about this strange beast that they needed to get him there quickly. He ran ahead, to get space, herbs, and bandages prepared before he got there.
Inside the Great Hall a short while later, beasts of all sizes and shapes were gathered around the great table, where an assortment of pies, salads, breads, cheeses, and cakes lined the plates of everybeast there, some (the hares in particular) waited in agonizing silence before the Abbot asked for Martin, the founders of Redwall, and everybeast before that had lived there watched over them, and then asked the current residents to help to keep it a place of freedom, happiness, and friendship.
Quinn and Mar had handed over the dibbuns to two old mousemaids who led them into the Abbey for the feast. Splitting up with the Hare, he went to the kitchen and deposited the basket of fish. He talked with one of the cooks before getting kicked out into the hall.
"Out, out you big old fool of an otter! You'll get your grub soon enough." said a kind but stern mouse assisting the cooking.
"Don't worry 'bout me, its th' hares ye have to watch out fer." he said, defeated. He could always snag an early meal another time.
Quinn hadn't spotted the leader of the otters when the visitors first arrived as he was entering through the back but when he came into the Great Hall he was shocked to see Skipper there. He turned around immediately, making sure to avoid him.
...you just had to follow me here, right now...
Turning his back, he tried to find a spot to sit and saw that Log-a-Log and a great number of shrews had also arrived. Now it became a matter of who to pick between...
Rather than sitting at the same table as the otters, he sat on the end of a table full of shrews. Sometimes having a mischievous past had a problem of catching up with you... He launched himself into a boring conversation about flowers with a hedgehog to his right, trying to stay inconspicuous.
Only one place to eat in too. I wonder how long these beasts are going to stay...
"Out, out you big old fool of an otter! You'll get your grub soon enough." said a kind but stern mouse assisting the cooking.
"Don't worry 'bout me, its th' hares ye have to watch out fer." he said, defeated. He could always snag an early meal another time.
Quinn hadn't spotted the leader of the otters when the visitors first arrived as he was entering through the back but when he came into the Great Hall he was shocked to see Skipper there. He turned around immediately, making sure to avoid him.
...you just had to follow me here, right now...
Turning his back, he tried to find a spot to sit and saw that Log-a-Log and a great number of shrews had also arrived. Now it became a matter of who to pick between...
Rather than sitting at the same table as the otters, he sat on the end of a table full of shrews. Sometimes having a mischievous past had a problem of catching up with you... He launched himself into a boring conversation about flowers with a hedgehog to his right, trying to stay inconspicuous.
Only one place to eat in too. I wonder how long these beasts are going to stay...
Frek looked on as Temero gave another one of his blasted speeches. That rat talked too much. Once he made his way back to his lads (The red side of camp, the other vermin called it) they were all upon him wondering what had happened.
"Wos goin' on boss?" blurted Goffrin, the biggest of his rats.
"Lookin' loik it kicked off over there." piped in Rank.
Frek just kept on walking to his favourite tree, scurrying up the trunk and sitting himself down on the largest branch. His lads followed him asking more and more questions as they gathered under him. "Aken's dead." He grumbled back at them.
That set them off. They were all a blur with talk over how and why and what would happen to Aken's boys.
"hoo cares wot 'appens!" Frek screeched, silencing them. "Aken 'ad it comin' an snakes can take is lads for wot I care! We got war to make!"
They all pricked up their ears at that. "War where boss?" one of them asked.
"War on Redwarl you filth!"
"No ones eva beaten redwall boss." squeaked Ragtail.
"Shut it!" Frek had lost his patience. "We gunna take Redwarl, we gunna take their grub, we gunna take their booze and we gunna take their cumfy beds cus we're the bloodyes blades in this hole forest!"
There was a cheer at that and his boys seemed happy enough to go to the fight. Frek thought he should give speeches more often, show that fat rat Temero how it's done.
"Ikkit, Goffrin, go get some of Aken's old boys and dip'em in red! I unly want the tough'uns mind!"
And with that his two underlings grabbed a posse and headed to Aken's old part of camp to gather more blades for the slaughter.
"Wos goin' on boss?" blurted Goffrin, the biggest of his rats.
"Lookin' loik it kicked off over there." piped in Rank.
Frek just kept on walking to his favourite tree, scurrying up the trunk and sitting himself down on the largest branch. His lads followed him asking more and more questions as they gathered under him. "Aken's dead." He grumbled back at them.
That set them off. They were all a blur with talk over how and why and what would happen to Aken's boys.
"hoo cares wot 'appens!" Frek screeched, silencing them. "Aken 'ad it comin' an snakes can take is lads for wot I care! We got war to make!"
They all pricked up their ears at that. "War where boss?" one of them asked.
"War on Redwarl you filth!"
"No ones eva beaten redwall boss." squeaked Ragtail.
"Shut it!" Frek had lost his patience. "We gunna take Redwarl, we gunna take their grub, we gunna take their booze and we gunna take their cumfy beds cus we're the bloodyes blades in this hole forest!"
There was a cheer at that and his boys seemed happy enough to go to the fight. Frek thought he should give speeches more often, show that fat rat Temero how it's done.
"Ikkit, Goffrin, go get some of Aken's old boys and dip'em in red! I unly want the tough'uns mind!"
And with that his two underlings grabbed a posse and headed to Aken's old part of camp to gather more blades for the slaughter.
One of Farhaar's watchers ran into the ring tents. The Fox was sitting on a log near the fire, intently looking into it awaiting the watchers news of the commotion. "N'so Aken is deader th'n a drowned bag of mice sir. Killed by one is own. Tivas has put that Redkat feller I believe his name is to command. E's who knifed him". The watcher took a seat on a spare section of log. "And one of them goons that shadow Tivas' feet came and told me we are to secure the camp from any other violators of his order".
"Aken's dead, he was one of the few I liked, shame is what it is. Than again it could always be to the betterment of us". Farhaar stood up "Right we've a camp to secure. Burrowburner"!
"Right here boss". The Bilgerat strode up from the tree shadows across from the fire.
"Take the troops and make a round of the camp. Report any oddities immediately and make no unjust provocation. Do inform them that we are under 'his' orders to lock the camp down. Archers with me"! Farhaar's troops were scrambling all around gathering their armor and weapons. One of his men handed him his bow, an archer clad in green just as he was. "Tell Tivas we'll have his camp secure in five minutes". The rat archer ran off to find the horde masters subordinates.
Farhaar dashed off towards Aken's section of the camp, his green clad archers of varying beasts and the weasel brothers took off with him. No words even needed to be exchanged to move. The rest of the rabble that were uninjured mustered under Burrowburners girth 'figuratively of corse'. "Alllll reight men, march to make rounds. You heard the Fox's orders. The pack jogged off to make a counterclockwise sweep of the camp. Farhaar didn't keep his own within the typical circle. Felt it much safer to keep off as a satellite when the terrain was suitable. This also kept his men from mingling to much with the other Lieutenants troops. So the pack had a few minutes travel to reach it.
"Aken's dead, he was one of the few I liked, shame is what it is. Than again it could always be to the betterment of us". Farhaar stood up "Right we've a camp to secure. Burrowburner"!
"Right here boss". The Bilgerat strode up from the tree shadows across from the fire.
"Take the troops and make a round of the camp. Report any oddities immediately and make no unjust provocation. Do inform them that we are under 'his' orders to lock the camp down. Archers with me"! Farhaar's troops were scrambling all around gathering their armor and weapons. One of his men handed him his bow, an archer clad in green just as he was. "Tell Tivas we'll have his camp secure in five minutes". The rat archer ran off to find the horde masters subordinates.
Farhaar dashed off towards Aken's section of the camp, his green clad archers of varying beasts and the weasel brothers took off with him. No words even needed to be exchanged to move. The rest of the rabble that were uninjured mustered under Burrowburners girth 'figuratively of corse'. "Alllll reight men, march to make rounds. You heard the Fox's orders. The pack jogged off to make a counterclockwise sweep of the camp. Farhaar didn't keep his own within the typical circle. Felt it much safer to keep off as a satellite when the terrain was suitable. This also kept his men from mingling to much with the other Lieutenants troops. So the pack had a few minutes travel to reach it.
Alright I'mfinally able to use a computer for more then 5 minutes. Sorry about the delay, my laptop quit working, and then I had a crisis to deal with. I'll just read what happened while I was gone and get back in