02-02-05

Characters involved: Neville, Jarril, Rothal, Taye, Buckthorn, Skipai, & Humbert

Salamandastron: Niche

Neville peers outside and sees the group waiting with their packs and equipment. He sighs and trudges over to them, not looking a very happy bunny indeed. He waves a piece of paper as he does so, a piece of paper with quite fine script and a wax seal at the bottom. "Whats this 'sposed to be?" He asks of the major as he approaches him, "Official orders to join a patrol, duty an all that?" he asks incredulously, "I mean... yes you're doing me a favour but... but..." he trails off, already knowing he's not going to get out of going along on the patrol. He sighs as the young messenger hare appears behind him, carrying the rest of his supplies (how could he leave without a /few/ bottles).

Jarril is busy leaning up against the wall of the mountain as he see's Neville come towards him. "Ah, Nev old chap. Yes, I ordered ya for this little outing, just the same as the otter as well, since ya both good friends and all. Besides, ya know who is who and where is where so ya needed." Pushing himself off the wall of the mountain, the major slowly bends down and picks up his backpack. "Ya know, if ya had a understudy, they would've been on this trip than ya, wot."

Rothal appears from the mountain, a light pack swung on his back. He looks worriedly about, wandering slowly over to the other hares. He nods to Nev, surprised to see the bar hare out and about. Then he salutes Jarril. "H'im not late, am Hi, sah?"

Crouched beside his pack a bit further down the wall from Jarril, Taye fusses nervously with its contents - first patrol jitters and all that. He glances around at the sound of Nev and Jarril's voices.

Jarril coughs and shakes his head at Rothal. "I'll forgive ya this time." Making his way towards Taye, the major smiles. "Relax, this isn't going ta be war were off ta. Just a simple patrol and ya know ya training lad." Looking around, the major lifts up his paw to check on the position of th sun. Meanwhile, Skipai makes his way over to where Nev is and plants a webbed paw on the hare's shoulder. "Glad y' could make it, matey. I make sure y' fed well on this trip anyways."

Buckthorn was a bit spaced out from the group. He had done his fair share of these things, and would have just as happy been sitting in the infirmary. But he had been ordered to attend, and as far as he could see he was the oldest healer here so far. Sighing, the healer eyed the other hairs, his nose twitching slightly. The cold air smelled of sea salt, not adding much joy to the hares mood.

Neville sighs and hangs his head, nodding in agreement, "Aye, 'spose its best, would've been nice for a bit of notice and wotnot" he mutters. Neville glances gloomily over towards Skipai as he approaches and smirks slightly, "Got you roped in good and proper as well eh? Well I suppose we can make the best of a bad situation an all that", he shakes the otters paw and sighs, shaking his head, "'Spose it would be good to get an apprentice of some sort for all this stuff... per'aps a young Doe t'keep me company at the bar too..."

Skipai chuckles and nods his head slightly. "Well, I am surprise y' haven't. Get a few and put y' own guard down at the cellar. Then there wouldn't be this mess in the first place." Rummaging in his pocket, the otter slips out something and hands it to Neville. "Here, have this biscuit, it will do well t' nibble on as we go along." He winks. "No other hares will be getting treats like this."

Rothal nods to Jarril, sitting down on a rock. Frowning, he listens to the talk, wishing they could just get started. Taking his knife from his belt, he begins to sharpen it on a small wetstone, meanwhile his ears prick back and forth as he listens, getting into the best position for hearing.

Standing up at Jarril's approach, Taye salutees - and can't help a bit of a grin at the major's reassurance. "Yes, sah." He then reaches down and shoulders his pack. "Ready whenevah you are, sah." Ahh, youth.

Neville chuckles and takes the offered biscuit with a grin and slips it into one of his pockets. Neville looks very alkward in his hastily-donned longpatrol shirt, used to wearing his casual black tunic as he manned the bar. He looks about to make sure noone is watching before slipping a small bottle to the otter with a conspiritorial wink, "I'm quite well stocked as well matey, yer'll not go dry" he whispers. Neville steps away again and picks up his pack, nodding to the unlucky hare who gets to carry his extra supplies. "Well... 'spose we'd best get going, ain't exactly nearby this place" he mutters.

Jarril nods slowly and turns around. "Alright ya lot. I want ta get going right away." Making his way to the front, he nods his head to those that have gathered. "Pair up as we be travelling in a line of just two side by side." Looking around. "So, who's going ta be travelling next ta me?"

Skipai grins and pats Neville's back. "I go with y' mate. Best for us t' stick t'gether than pair up with an actual patroller."

Rothal stands, sheathing his knife and jogging over to get in line. Looking worriedly about, he counts the hares quietly, nodding, then falls in beside another runner.

Buckthorn sighs under his breath. He really didn't like this part. Usually all the hares picked beasts with a good sense of humor, or some other quirk that would provide entertainment during the long trek. But no, Buck really wasn't that sort of hare... He would run, patrol, or whatever with a concentrated sort of gleam in his eye. No fun at all. Bucks head turned this way and that, trying to decide which hare was the unlucky one.

Taking a deep breath and waiting just long enough to give someone else ample opportunity to step up, Taye looks left, then right, and once back towards the mountain before fiiiinally stepping up beside the major.

Jarril gives a grin and looks at Taye. "My, ya first patrol and it's beside me, well. I'll keep ya safe." Looking about, the major spots Neville. "Neville. I need ta know the general direction so I can send two runners ahead ta scout ahead while we make our way. Then we can get going." The major's voice firm and commandative right now.

Leave it to Taye to idolize a scarred, one-eyed hare. Hee. He returns Jarril's grin with an excited if nervous one of his own, but for the moment doesn't say anything, leaving the major to all the command... stuff.

Neville looks up as he's mentioned, "Yes'sah? Ah, sorry sah, thought I'd put a map of it in the envelope" says Neville, furrowing his brows slightly. "Well m'merchant matey lives up north slightly, good hike, I imagine he'll point us in the direction of the thieves so... North for a bit I reckon, a good two day's hike in good weather sah. As I said, bit of a walk sah" explains Neville, staring wearily towards the northern horizon, more used to going up and down stairs than across flat land. He sighs and takes a swig of something from a small, worn hipflask. He emphasises his previous point to the two scouts, who stand looking at him questioningly, "Thattaway!" he repeats as he points north.

Buckthorn simply falls to the back, his healer supplies at the ready incase some unfortunate hare slices his foot. He doesn't pair up with anyone, instead going at it alone. This really didn't bother him. He clears his throat, shouldering his pack to a more comfortable position.

Jarril nods his head but pats the map in his pocket with a grin as if he wanted to make Neville work during this patrol. Coughing, he straightens his uniform, picks two hares and nods. "Right, ya two. Go up ahead and scout. Find us a suitable camp for tonight." Watching those two hares go off, he turns around and takes a deep breath. "Okay, let's get going, I want a fair share of walking done before evening, otherwise ya be making ya beds in the dark, wot." The major strides out, heading northwards.

Western Shore

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Shore ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soft sand cushions you as you walk. To the south a lone mountain stands at attention, guarding the seashore. Curls of smoke grace the sky as they escape from the top of the looming mountain. The sight is breathtaking to anybeast. To the west the sand meets the glassy sea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Exits: [I]nto [H]ole in the [G]round, [T]o the [N]orthwest [F]ace of the [M]ountain, [Sh]allows, [U]pshore, [D]ownshore

Skipai slowly takes a sip from the bottle that Neville had given him earlier, the otter wiping his muzzle with a webbed paw and sighs softly, sniffing the sea air that near. "Tell y' what? I be sleeping soundly t'night and that's for sure." Every now and again, the otter gives a look towards the sea, remembering something from his past seasons.

Jarril keeps up in front, eye scanning up ahead as he keeps up his pace, now and again looking at Taye to see how the new recruit is getting on. After a while, he breaks the silence. "So, what made ya join up? Parents, stories or was it something completely different?"

Neville double steps to keep in line, trying not to fall behind the tall otter beside him or stray off from the group, not being to "up-to-date" on marching training... or any other training for that matter. He laughs, "Ain't that the truth, I'll be on me arse as soon as one footpaw catches t'other" he mutters jokingly. He risks a glance behind him at the rest of the line, earning a trip for his efforts. He stumbles, corrects, then keeps on marching wearily onwards.

Buckthorn steps left-right-left-right, his paws falling in step. The hare notices the stumbling barkeep and thinks for a moment. He raises a paw to the side of his mouth, bellowing out to the major in front. "Permission f'ah marching song, Sah?" He suggests, feeling as if has the perfect beat for the march.

Jarril turns his head back at Buckthorn and calls back. "Right ya are, Buckthorn but since ya suggested it, ya can sing it, wot!" The major turning his head back again to the front, occasional scanning up ahead in case the two hares come back from their scout trip.

Looks like all the training's paid off, because Taye's just ambling along beside Jarril like it's a walk in the park - that is, a walk in the park where you have to keep up with the more experienced, taller officer, but hey, it's a walk in the park nonetheless. His relaxed ears bob along easily, and only perk up as Jarril addresses him. "Well, I jus' always figured I would - m' da, he's with the patrol. Majah Rahier? So's mum." Pause. "She's the library keepah."

Jarril nods his head slowly. "Ah, I see, well then." The major giving his whisker a stroke, even when moving along nicely in the sand. "I have no doubt ya make a fine officah one day. Since he's done a fine job already."

Buckthorn breaths in, bellowing out in a husky tone... not really all that bad for such a serious hare. "Hoo, there Long Patrol! Ah marching we will go... bring th' swords, 'n slings 'n stones, the hares are on the roll!" The tune strikes up with a steady beat, his feet falling with the song. "Kiss yon bonnies a fond farewell, we wont be home tonight! Tweak the dibbuns, an' hold yer mudders tight! Hoo there, Long Patrol, th'hares are on ah roll!"

Jarril continues on as he see's two forms up ahead quickly making their way back to where the main patrol is heading. Listening to the rest of the patrol sing, the major keeps an eye on the two runners and then signals for the patrol to stop briefly as he listens to the report.

Neville mumbles along to the song, hardly following the words of it as it moves into yet another verse that everyone seems to know, He knows the song well, having heard many a drunk hare warble it out at him in the later hours, but singing the words and forcing one foot in front of the other in time to the beat has proven too much of a task for the barkeep so far. He keeps focussed on the back of the hare in front's head, trying not to look too inexperienced after his earlier failings when setting off - might lose him all respect as the master purveyor of fine ales in the area.

Neville manages to ruin his attempts to look as "one of the patrol" as he doesn't recognise the stopping signal coming from the front. He makes just one step too many, treading on the hare in front's ankle and unbalancing himself, falling to one knee and dropping his pack. He shakes his head and grumbles loudly, readjusting the pack, rubbing his leg and standing, making apologies to the hare in front, feeling more than a little sheepish.

Skipai helps to brush sand off Neville and churrs. "Come on, y' haven't been in that mountain all y' life have y' matey?" The otter blinking slightly. "Er, y' can look after y'self if we meet trouble, yes?"

Buckthorn belts out the last verse, a great whoop in his voice. "Here we go, home no more! Takin' flight, ready tah fight! The Hares are here, on patrol!" He says pausing before every hare joins in the very last words. "The Hares are on the roll!" Breathing heavily, the hare pushes his hair back, glad to have a break. Once again he turns into the solemn hare, not really looking for conversation with the others... his voice sort of hurt anyways.

Neville grins sheepishly at the cook and shrugs, "I'm not a fightah, more of a lovah if I do say m'self" he corrects with a nervous chuckle before dropping back into a more serious tone, "I've had the barest of trainin' matey. Was always gonna join the mountain, just never really been a patrollar yaknow..." he makes a nervous cough, even more nervous than his previous chuckle. "I'm gonna die..." he says quietly with a gulp

Stopping next to Jarril and taking this opportunity to set down his pack, Taye crouches in the sand. Pulling a canteen out of his pack, he uncorks the cap and takes a long drink.

Skipai wraps an arm about the hare's shoulders. "I may be old but I can hear okay. Don't worry, I won't let anything happen t' y'."

Jarril nods and then makes a sign to move on. "Okay, a bit further on and we can stop for the night. But we be heading slightly in a bit to where there's a rock. We light a fire behind it so that we don't go bally advertising ta any ships that we are ready for the taking." The hare points to where there is a rock in the distance within the sand. "We're making for that. Sooner we get there, the longer we can rest until daylight tomorrow, wot."

Buckthorn gets up, packing up his canteen. Not saying anything, he moves to the back. There really wasn't much to do for him... but he supposed it was always good to have some healers about the place. Checking for his dagger, the hare rolled his shoulders, ready to go.

Neville makes a whine of relief as he gets up again "Ah we're stopping in a bit, ah sweet rest". He sags and gets ready to start the march forwards once again, "I'll thankya for summit warm for my stomach when we stop Skip, would offer summit to drink as well but I reckon I'll be out like a recruit after 'is first sniff of my ale as soon as I've dropped my pack"

Jarril continues to march the hares off, nodding to Taye as he chuckled at the words from the young hare. "I remember being in the exact same thing at ya age when we went off ta Mossflower." Not saying much after that, the patrol slowly makes it to where the rock is as the otter sighs, sitting down when the patrol stops.

Dropping his pack down as the patrol comes to a stop, Taye wanders off from the major and amongst the other hares.

Buckthorn finds a nice little spot close to the rock and fire. He pulls out a blanket from his pack, laying it down on the ground. Lowering himself on it, the buck lets out a relaxing sigh.

Humbert, a thin and well-groomed hare and Jarril's current lieutenant, comes to a halt and pulls off a crisp salute as he wanders up to the major. He nods in conferral with the major for a moment or two before nodding, having been given his orders. "Rightio chaps, we're to make camp but I don't want to see anything sloppy!" he says, addressing the patrol before him, he points off to the pairs, "Fire, over there, make it hot" he order the first, "2nd and 3rd rows, set up shelters", he comes to Skipai and Neville, "Well you two are obviously on cooking duty, silly of us to do anything else with ya!". He looks around the remainder and gives tasks such as firewood collection, watch shifts and general camp maintenance, "Aaaand anyone lucky enough not to have anything to do till their shift, at ease, rest up, we'll need ya in the night".

Well, not having been assigned anything in particular, Taye wanders back to his pack and rolls out his blanket. Dropping down onto it, he looks up at the sky thoughtfully.