Felicity makes a new friend, and battle ensues (LP Log)
Western Shore
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The intense sun bakes the golden sand of the beach. To the north and south all that can be seen is sand. The salty air flows off of the glassy green surface of the ocean to the west. Far out on the ocean a pelican swoops down and flies off with a fish. Pearly shells rest in the sand. It is your typical beach scene, nothing out of the ordinary can be seen.
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Exits: [D]irt [P]ath, [U]pshore, [D]ownshore
Contents:
The Optimist
Saja the fox, with spoofed friends. Felicity the hare.
It's another day on the shore of the Western Lands. Roughly half past noon, the water is rather gentle, and the sun sits high in the sky, much to the chagrin of those baking under it. Travelling downshore is a somewhat small caravan, with a minimal amount of guards. Two wagons are being pulled by some of the workers here, all of whom seem to be mice or rabbits of various descriptions. A female mouse, atop one of the wagons, seems to be more richly garbed than the others and occasionally calls out to the others.
The guards for this particular caravan are motley indeed: five in total, two mice, a rat, an older hare, and one rather distinctive fox. Saja the fox pants lightly as claws sink into sand, the one-eyed beast walking with his crossbow resting across his shoulder. Occasionally he'll peer back to the treelines and frowns. There's been rumors of increased bandit attacks, and the fox perhaps rightfully looks paranoid.
Either way, the group would be hard to miss, heading downshore and laden with rice, a few weapons, and other assorted non-perishables.
A lone creature is heading upshore, a hare. Her auburn fur doesn't really blend in very well into the sand, but she doesn't seem to mind. Her uniform will inform anyone who is educated in such things that she is a Runner and a Private in the Long Patrol. She had been jogging up the shoreline, but has now slowed to a stop as she watches the caravan on it's way South. When they get close enough, she will give them a friendly little wave and call, "Good day, wot!" It is Felicity, and she has her family's short sword at her side. She has just left the mountain to go on patrol. Looks like her report this time is going to be interesting, at least.
The caravan comes to a halt, and the well-garbed mouse hops down from her perch. Pairs of eyes peer at the Long Patrol hare as she calls out, some in suspicion, others in relief. Oddly, the fox of the group smiles a bit, somewhere between pleasure and amusement upon noting the insignia on the Runner's uniform. The fox's necklace might explain the gesture. Swiftly, however, the fox returns to peering at the treeline, as does the older hare. The rest of the guards aren't quite so alert.
"Hello Miss Hare! Good day indeed! One of the locals? This /is/ the way to Halyard?"
"I told ya Miss Fairfield, it's the right way, wot!" Comes the hare, turning from his vigil to smile winningly at both mouse and fellow rabbit type. He's big, muscled in the way that many of the older rabbits in the Patrol are. A former member, perhaps?
"Beggin' yer pardon, Marm, we ain't in the way of yer patrollers, are we? Heard nasty rumors about bandits." His voice lowers, and frowns. "S' why we had ta hire the vermin pack back there." He doesn't seem too pleased with the rats or fox. The caravan owner just sighs.
Smiling, the hare eyes the fox's necklace of Long Patrol throwing knives, but for now says nothing about it. "No, I don't think you're in the way, don't worry. Yes, this is the way to Halyard, don't worry. You're headed in the right direction." She refrains from mentioning that she patrols alone. "My name's Felicity."
The mouse merchant seems to relax a bit at that, giving a warm laugh. "Alright, alright, well that's good. I was afraid we were lost again!" The hare too chuckles. "It were an accident Marm, all them streams up north look the same! Felicity, hmm? Nice ta meet ya Marm! Ahh, reminds me of me auld days! Was a fightah in the patrol before I went and retired. How about after all this I tell ya some stories of me old da..."
The hare doesn't get to finish his sentence, as there's a rustling in the trees past the shore. A near-silent twang of a bowstring, and several of the caravan guards yell out. The old hare turns, grabs the merchant mouse, and throws her down just in time to take an arrow to the throat. Gurgling, he falls bonelessly, clutching at the wound. Several arrows also fly towards Felicity!
"DOWN!" Shouts the fox of the group, ducking just in time to avoid a similar treatment. One of the mice takes an arrow to the gut, while the remaining guards manage to get almost everyone under cover. A few more shots with varying accuracy plink into the wood of the vehicles. A half dozen vermin step out from the trees, the shadows of others lurking within. They're all wearing various tattered clothing and armor. Bandits. "Lay down yer weapons ye gobs! Yer outnumbered, and we want yer vittles and coin, not yer lives!" Yells out a big marten with a longsword.
Smiling at the old hare, Felicity had been listening to both him and the mouse when the arrows rained down upon them. Gasping, she dives at the retired Patroler and goes to drag him to the seaward side of the wagon. Blood trickles down her jaw, unnoticed, from a nick she received in her ear. Once she has gotten to (relative) safety, she grits her teeth, drops her small haversack to the sand, and unwinds her sling from her waist. Loading a pebble into it, she whirls it, shouting, "'Ow 'bout I take yours, bigmouth! Eulaliaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!" She stands, takes aim, and looses her stone at the marten's face, then drops back down, hopefully without injury.
The hare proves hearty for his old age: dragged out of the way of danger, he's alive...for now. Who knows if he can be saved. Thankfully, the merchant mouse proves a bit more useful than it first might seem: taking out some medical supplies, and already set on removing what she can of the arrow and trying to get the bleeding to stop. She also keeps her head down, unlike a few of the other woodlanders. They pay for it. The caravan's numbers are swiftly dropping.
Felicity's sling aim proves true: it's a graceful arc that smacks the big marten right in the forehead. There's a crunch, and down he goes, crosseyed. Screams of 'Boss!' call out, and two of the bandits drag him back into the woods. One of the remaining vermin, a vixen, waves at the others. "Half of ya retreat and get tha boss ta safety! We'll skewer the rest!" Many of the tree-dwellers back off, and a few step out: four vermin with swords and spears, two with bows. Much better odds.
Two of the caravan guards, the rats, look at each other. "We ain't gettin' paid enough for this!" They cut and run upshore. The bandits don't seem to care. A few of the civilian woodlanders get the same idea. Saja for his part curses. "Cowards." He's managed to slink closer to the competent remaining members of the party: Felicity and the mouse.
"You. Private." Comes the fox sharply. "Good aim. Can you keep that up?" Seems only one of the mice caravan guards is left, the scared young adult at least managing to look prepared. "Six on two-and-a-half are odds we might just be able to beat, or hold off. Tell me a Patrol's scheduled this way." More arrows thunk against the side of the wagons, only for Saja to pop up, and neatly place a bolt into one of the archer's chests.
Felicity is already whirling a pebble in her sling, and she glances at the fox, her blue eyes hard. "Watch me." She stands, aims at the vixen's neck. It flies, it's aim true, but whether the fox will get out of the way or not is a question. Ducking back down, the hare loads yet another stone and starts whirling it. "I'm afraid I can't tell ya that, old chap. I, ah, Patrol alone." She gives him a sheepish look. "Sorry." She stands, lets loose her stone, then ducks back down again.
The vixen is a little more competent, or perhaps more lucky than the others. As another goes down thanks to the fox, the vixen smartly moves just in time. The stone goes flying past her and into the woods as she charges. There's a yelp from the darkness of the trees, however, and more scrambling deeper in. At the least, it seems there won't be reinforcements.
The fox, hunkered down next to her, sighs. "Hellgates. Miss Fairfield, consider my rates doubled. Hazard pay." The mouse, grits her teeth, but nods. "Alright. Here's the plan, Private Felicity. Take out that last archer, I put a bolt into our spear wielding friend. Then we charge and try to not die." From his tone of voice, he doesn't like the plan, but it's the best he has. A swallow of a flask, and then he pops up after reloading. Thunk! True to form, a leg is hit, and down goes a spear-wielding rat. Saja slaps the mouse guard into reality, and he waits until she's slinging again before drawing his sword. "If we both survive, drinks are on me."
Meanwhile, the charging vermin are almost to the caravan. After a calming breath, Saja breaks from behind cover, meeting one of the vermin's blades with his own. A kick to the stomach, and he backs off, only for the mouse guard to finally come running too. The offending vermin loses his head from a wild slash from the mouse, but a spear-wielding marten gives the mouse a poke in the side. He goes down, and Saja takes the initiative. Slamming bodily into him, the marten is impaled. The vixen is quick! Saja has barely enough time to wheel around the vermin, the vixen's sword slamming into her own ally and earning Saja a horrible side-wound. The two foxes struggle, the marten trapped between! It puts the vixen open for the Long Patrol hare!
Felicity grimaces. She seriously hates that plan. She pops up and lets a stone fly at the archer, then she ducks down, drops her sling, and draws her shortsword. She charges out and goes to kick the vixen away from Saja and then tries to stab her in-between her shoulder blades.
Felicity's toss catches the archer in the eye, sending him to the sand, and his arrow whiffing past an ear and into the water. Her charge is similarly fruitful: the two vulpines are in a stalemate, with the vixen trying to grind that blade into even more meaty bits of the male. A kick sends her tumbling, an ankle likely spraining in the fall, only for a blade to follow. With a schlick of blade into flesh, the vixen lets go of her sword. Marten and vixen both fall, and then are still.
Saja grunts and rips off part of his sleeve, already bandaging his wound. He takes a moment to survey the battlefield: several dead or dieing bandits and guards, wounded civilians, and lots of sobbing from the younger members of the caravan.
He sighs, levers himself up, and 'helpfully' puts a bolt in the remaining living bandit's chest. Can't be too careful. "Clear!" He calls out after one more survey, limping over to his employer, who's soon helping get the fox properly bandaged up. She's good at it, it seems.
"In one piece, Private? I had my doubts, but it seems even the younger members of the Patrol are exceedingly competent." His voice, already gravelly, is a bit weak now as adrenaline slowly leaves him. He sounds exhausted for good reason, but a sight more well spoken than many a fox. "Saja Hawkeye, mercenary." Yip! The mouse pulls his bandage tight. "Hold still you brute of a fox! /Are/ you alright, Miss Felicity?" Adds in the caravan owner.
Panting slightly, the hare pulls her sword loose, then goes to clean it on her defeated enemy's clothes. Sheathing the now-clean blade, the 9-season-old walks over to the caravan owner/healer, limping slightly. "Aye, I'm fine, thankee, although I might've sprained my ankle when I landed." Felciity plops down beside the mercenary and starts wrapping her sling back around her waist. "Nice to meet you, I'm sure, Sah. My fathah was a Runnah and my mothah a Fightah, and they made sure that my broth....that I knew how to defend myself."
The owner frowns at first, but nods. She soon goes to treat more wounded, a few of the other now calming caravaneers doing much the same. The old hare is quickly taken to one of the covered wagons. Soon enough, with the chaos dying down, everyone seems to have something to do.
Saja, for his part, glances out at the battlefield again. No scroungers this early, and the bandits don't immediately seem to be coming back. Then, he takes a breath, and sucks in some of his flask. It's offered over to the Runner. Should she partake, it tastes awful, burns, but at least there's no chance of it being questionable water.
"Charmed. A shame, we could've used your Mother and Father both today." His muzzle tilts at the mention of the brother, but doesn't press. "Oh well. We're both alive, our enemies lay fallen, and now I'm in your debt." A glance to her ankle, and he considers. "You're not doing much running like that. Want to join up? We're not far from Halyard. I'm sure your superiors will understand, given the, ah...mess." Another glance.
"Besides, I don't want to be here when those bandits regroup, or scavengers move in. We get to the village, get the town guard riled, and you send a message to your friends at the mountain." Reasons the fox. Then he's up as his suggestion seems to be taking heed in the caravaneers. He leans over into a wagon, snags a wine bottle and a pair of cups. "To victory and another dawn." Cheers.
Eyeing the flask with suspicion, Felicity politely declines. Standing, she winces, then, after grabbign her haversack, she limps over to the wagon. "I think I'll take ye up on ya offer. Thank you." She goes to climb up into the wagon, then leans over and looks the fox full in the face. "And ya not in my debt. I release ya from it." She then goes ot help in any way she can as they head to Halyard...which she has never been to. Hey, there's a first time for everything, right?
The fox politely helps the hare up, returning courtesy with courtesy. Probably one of the reasons the mouse ever bothered hiring the shifty looking vulpine. He chuckles as he's released from debt, a little smile on his face.
"Probably for the best. A young hare with talent and a bright future ahead of her isn't fit for becoming entangled in the affairs of a less-than-outstanding beast such as myself." Then, devouring both his flask and several helpings of pilfered wine, he pulls out a cloth and whetstone, going to work on his shortsword. He proves a mostly silent companion, as the caravan begins to move, though his crossbow remains easily on hand, and loaded. The rest of the journey to the village is uneventful, and swiftly enough, both fox and hare are caught up in the ensuing questions and soon departing town guard. With a wave, and after being paid from the merchant, Saja is off to the local tavern for a bath, food, and ale. He departs with a smile and a spring to his limping step.
Thanks for reading!
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