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 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TxrwImCJCqk pre:I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. Yet always, there is hope. That is the eternal promise of spring every year. A new beginning, a new year, life returning as the frozen earth thaws and fresh shoots press forth. So it is with the Guard. New Tenderfoot recruits poured following the victory, those too young to participate in the war proper. At the same time, during the fighting many were pushed through the ranks. It is a time of newcomers and new veterans, and as the late winds of March give rise to the showers of April, we find Lockhaven a bustle of activity. It has been a long winter, and the place has served as shelter, fortress, refugee camp, and heart of war for the mice of the territories. Now it was time for many to go home. The ranks of the Mouse Guard swelled with recruits pressed in from the Territorial armies and militia, now most of these were released. Many were taking their own families back to home steadings as the first real thaw of a late winter opens the roads to travel once more. The great vaulted hall of Lockhaven, only weeks ago home to hundreds of refugees, is now a hive of activity as the visitors prepared for the long walk home. It is an expectant, almost hopeful air tinged with a certain subtle melancholy. It would be a long walk home, after all. pre:“We as Guard offer all that we are to protect the sanctity of our species, the freedom of our kin, and the honor of our ancestors. With knowledge, sword, and shield, we do these deeds, never putting a lone mouse above the needs of all, or the desire of self above another. We strive for no less than to serve the greatest good.” - The Guard’s Oath pre:What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock, (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust.  WELCOME TO THE GAME. Y'all are in Barkstone right now; you have no current mission so the initial postings will be to sort of get to know one another, backfill details, give you a chance to shake out the initial postings. Feel free to make up incidental details, they will be incorperated into the general mash of things. Sorry for the delays, but we are ALL IN NOW, so lets roll!
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Jul 18, 2016 15:35
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Llewella Ella watched the last of her patrol's group of refugees disperse from her perch on top of a pile of supplies. Moving that many mice had been a job of work, and not one she'd much enjoyed. True, the challenge of keeping them safe and fed had been interesting. But for all the joy at returning home, Ella could see resentment floating beneath the surface, at having the Guard make the decisions, and at the waste of the war. With the weasels no longer an immediate threat, many were impatient to go back to the way things were before - and upset when they couldn't. Or maybe she was just seeing the worst side of things again. She'd caught herself doing that a lot, recently. Getting back to work had helped, and getting back to more typical guard duties would help more. Hopping down from the crates, she went over to join the other members of the patrol. "That's work well done, and well done. Let's go get something cool to drink and something hot to eat - won't be long before Lockhaven finds us new work." Character Sheet posted:Name: Llewella (Ella, Mad Ella)
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Jul 18, 2016 20:19
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Connall Connall had been watching the last of the refugees leave as well, from a seat on a bit of root. It was good watching families reunite as the conscripts and refugees made it home, if tempered by those searching for a familiar face that wouldn't be coming back this time. He'd been quiet for a few minutes, but turned with good humor in his face as Ella rejoined the others. "What, tired of my cooking already?" With a slight creaking of armor, the warrior mouse stretched and climbed to his paws, casting an eye over his Tenderpaw charge as he did. "I suppose we could all probably stand a bite before we get back on the road." Character Sheet posted:Connall
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Jul 19, 2016 08:52
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Lorelei The journey had been long and the travel had been arduous, but some of the other guardmice seemed driven to the point of frustration with the refugees. Lorelei loved them. They had been a crowd of exhausted, sickly and poverty-stricken, the very very heart of the civilisation that she had been tasked with protecting. They represented only a fraction of the mice in that position, but she had viewed the escort as an integral part of her duties. And the refugees had loved her. She had been one of the driving forces that could motivate those for whom threats of being left behind or warnings of the peril around them meant nothing. "Agreed," she said, turning her eyes away from the last wearily waving remnants of the group as they merged with the crowds waiting for them. "Food and drink. Come! Food and drink, friends!" She threw her hands around the two nearest mice and wrestled them forward. "Come, come, come!" pre:Name: Lorelei November Rank: Guardmouse Fur Color: White Cloak Color: Berry red - "You will be the first to draw attention from enemies, but you will be remembered. For all my faults, it appears that is what you want." Belief: Mice die, legends do not. Instinct: Be heroic, especially when there are witnesses. Age: 24 Will: 3 Health: 6 Nature: 4 Resources: 2 Circles: 5 PP: 1 FP: 1 Gear: Sword, shield, book of epic poetry. Friend: Rutger the brewer from Shaleburrow - Rutger and Lorelei were born within moments of each other and it was joked that they would grow up to get married. Both mice believed this to be true to the point that their parents stopped joking about it. However, as Lorelei grew more adventurous and artistic, Rutger grew more stoic and sensible. Though they remain close friends, they are extremely different. Rutger envies Lorelei's drive to make the world better. Lorelei admires Rutger's simple good-naturedness without pretension. Enemy: Sloan the guardmouse - Sloan is a mouse who went through training the same season as Lorelei. She is everything a guardmouse should be. She works hard. She cares. She is compassionate and well trained. She plans and acts on impulse in equal measures depending on the situation. Her skills with a sword are impressive, as is her ability to scout. She is an ideal guardmouse. Yet she loathes Lorelei with a passion that at times borders on obsessive. Lorelei views her as humourless and bitter. Sloan view Lorelei as egotistical and flashy without substance. Skills: Archivist 3 Brewer 2 Harvester 2 Instructor 3 Fighter 4 Orator 2 Weather Watcher 3 Traits: Bold Open-minded Wises: Cat 2 Celebrations 2 Rain 2 War 2 Bio Questions: Home: Shaleburrow Talent: Archivist Specialty: Weather Watcher Parents: Joseph and Beatrice November, Brewers Artisan: Cranston Applegate, Archivist Mentor: Lucy November (aunt), Fighter Misc: Does not save for winter. Stands her ground during a fight. Fears owls, weasels and wolves. Brews beer for the Guard during winter Parents are not politicians, smiths, merchants or apiarists Enjoys buying gifts for friends. Is not thrifty Is generally bad with money. Packs carefully. Is exceptionally gregarious Has strong ties to the Guard Though more legend than fact, has distinguished herself during the wars. No strong enemies within the territories. Has not been convicted of a crime November is enviable, but not a loner, tough or cool.
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Jul 19, 2016 10:07
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Oswald Oswald has been his patrol leader's shadow almost since Lockhaven. Wherever Ella goes, he's right behind, watching. He watches everything she does, every detail of the scenery, every reaction from the people she talks to. Now he follows Ella to the public house, quiet as can be, taking in Barkstone all the while. The revelry masks the usual town-smell of night soil and churned earth in a haze of cooking smoke and spilled beer. There's even a faint, nostalgic hint of the kilns and crucibles laid quiet by the war. Even if it smells nice, the town is still full of people and noise, and Lorelei isn't helping. Oswald flinches when she claps a hand on his shoulder. pre:Oswald Belief: No problem or predator is too large to be beaten. Goal: (TBD) Instinct: Never attack head-on what you can approach from the side. Health 5 Will 3 Resources 3 Circles 1 Persona Points 1 Fate Points 1 Skills Carpenter 2 Decieve 2 Glazier 2 Fighter 3 Hunter 4 Scout 5 SMason 2 Wises Predator-wise Camouflage-wise Traits Quiet x Wolf's Snout x Equipment Daggers Bow and Arrow Hammer Pins Rope Hardtack
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Jul 19, 2016 13:31
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Daelyn When Lorelei throws her arm around Daelyn, the smaller mouse jumps. "Oh! ...oh, Lorelei. Yes, let's find something to eat!" She's been on edge for most of the trip, caught between the boredom of slow travel and the jumpiness of thinking a predator is near, but never actually seeing it. There was plenty to do on the trip, of course, what with several of the refugees still nursing minor injuries from the war, not to mention the various scrapes and bruises mice pick up on the road. But entering the gates of Barkstone without trouble felt strangely bittersweet. Somehow, after only a few hours, she already feels restless, as though she'd been spinning thread for weeks, not trekking across the length of the territories. Still, it is nice to be safe. Best enjoy it while it lasts. "Mama always said the mice in Barkstone made the best spiced bread." She sniffs at the thickly scented air. "I think I smell a bakery this way..." Going to find us a bakery and maybe use Haggler to get us some nice eats. pre:Name: Daelyn Foxwood Rank: Guardmouse Fur Color: Blonde Cloak Color: Pale blue, the color of the winter sky Belief: Even the darkest storm must pass. Instinct: Keep your word, no matter the cost. Age: 19 Will: 3 Health: 5 Nature: 6 Resources: 3 Circles: 1 PP: 1 FP: 1 Gear: Bow and arrows, satchel stuffed with medicinal herbs and bandages, staff Friend: Finn Mardeck, Patrol Guard - An established guard a few years older than Daelyn, Finn is a talented smith and spearmouse from Port Sumac. During the war, he was gravely injured, but survived due to the swift efforts of Daelyn's mentor, Rickard (and Daelyn herself, she likes to think). While Finn convalesced, they became friends. For some reason, Daelyn -- already quiet at the best of times -- finds herself stammering and tripping over her words any time he's around, but somehow he seems not to notice. Enemy: Lady Bethenay Hormel, Moss Trade Lord - The Hormels have long kept a stranglehold on the position of Moss Trade Lord in Elmoss, and for just as long they have feuded bitterly with the Foxwood clan, whom they see as their closest rivals for the position. Mice have been hurt and even killed in the conflict between the two families, though thankfully not in some years. Lady Bethenay herself is actually quite a reasonable mouse, and opposes the Foxwoods out of a sense of loyalty and vengeance, rather than spite. Skills: Harvester 3 Healer 6 Weaver 2 Persuader 2 Scout 2 Survivalist 2 Haggler 3 Traits: Alert Nocturnal Wises: Bird-wise Star-wise Tall grass-wise Mushroom-wise Bio Questions: Home: Elmoss Talent: Healer Specialty: Healer Parents: Elwyn Foxwood, harvester (deceased), and Kate Foxwood, weaver Artisan: Johanna Lynn Worth, Harvester Mentor: Blind Rickard, Patrol Leader Misc: Saves for winter. Runs and hides when confronted. Fears owls, weasels and wolves. Doesn't practice a trade during winter. Parents are not politicians, smiths, merchants or apiarists. Doesn't usually buy gifts. Isn't thrifty. Has never been in debt. Packs carefully for journeys. Isn't very gregarious. Has no strong ties to the Guard. Hasn't accomplished anything famous. Has some strong enemies within the territories. Has not been convicted of a crime. Is a bit of a loner. megane fucked around with this message at 18:09 on Jul 20, 2016 |
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Jul 20, 2016 10:23
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Maeve Although the tenderpaw had no illusions about the realities of being on the road, the journey to Barkstone had taken longer than she'd anticipated. They'd used more foodstuff as a consequence, having had to dip into supplies that had been earmarked for Barkstone itself. Running creeks washing out roads was a hazard she'd read all about, but a fallen branch had facilitated the formation of an entire spring lake that they'd needed to skirt around. But they'd lost no one in the process, and that's what was-- Her mentor's sudden movement and subsequent question interrupted her train of thought. "Y-yes," she agreed, nodding. Character Sheet posted:Belief: Everyone wants something. Nothing was ever achieved without want.
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Jul 20, 2016 13:22
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 Thom Mouthus It had been a grating trip for the oldfur, and although he did his best to hide it there was a definite tensions between Thom and the refugee leaders. Always complaints. They were going too fast. They weren't going fast enough. Why not go the southern route? Finding a veritable lake where not two seasons ago had been good pathland was nearly the last straw. He'd pulled out his maps and his glasses to find another way, but almost immediately a group of self-selected leaders from the mice they were leading approached and started making demands. Why had they stopped? Why was there a lake in the path? Were they lost? Maybe it was time for someone else to take charge - It wasn't a proud moment for him. He wanted to set a good example for the tenderpaws, he wanted to rise to the occasion. It wasn't to be. A rowdy young mouse had grabbed for the map Thom was using. The oldfur wasn't going to stand for that, so he twisted the younger mouse's ear and knocked them back onto their tail. He'd left his supply bag and pack and pulled up his hood, telling the others to set up camp. The next morning he'd returned, having marked a new path around the lake that linked back up with the path on the other side. He'd apologized, in his fashion, but the trip had been tense. Lorelei had been a saving grace during the trip, her eternal optimism serving to motivate both the gauardmice and their charges. Thom had developed great respect for her softer methods and outlook, compared to the hard militaristic perspective that he didn't even realize he had. He knew he wasn't the same mouse he'd been before the war, but the trip had forced him to confront how deep the change had really been. Luckily they hadn't lost anyone. That gave him a bit of confidence and hope things might work out for the better. Barkstone was always a nice place to visit, as well. He was glad that it still stood proud as the last time he'd seen it, if a bit more somber. Much like Connall he'd been sitting on a small chair he'd fashioned from some roots and a fallen leaf, watching the refugees make their way into the city. At some point he'd pulled out his pipe and started smoking, simply watching and pondering the war, and his own actions during this trip, when Ella stepped forward. "A drink would be nice, I think. A drink and a toast, to a mission well done." pre:Name: Thom Mouthus Rank: Patrol Leader Fur Color: Greying-brown Cloak Color: Dark brown, like the untrodden dirt he favored. Belief: It's better to go and find danger, than to wait for danger to find you. Instinct: Always go first. Age: 54 Will: 5 Health: 4 Nature: 5 Resources: 7 Circles: 3 PP: 1 FP: 1 Gear: Spear, waterproof satchel of maps, fancy cloak pin/medal Friend: Summer the Herbalist, from Sprucetuck. Friends since early school days, Summer helped Thom pass many classes. Although Summer had wistful dreams of adventures in the Guard, her true passion is medicine and her garden. When he gets a chance, Thom will visit and make special maps annotated with the happenings and various adventures that he's had, in exchange for medicines and herbs. Enemy: Jasper the Patrol leader - the trouble with surviving against all odds is that so many others don't. The question becomes "Why did you survive?" Jasper's two younger siblings served with Thom during the Winter War, and both died. Jasper blames their deaths on Thom, either because of cowardice or negligence. Thom worries that either might be true. Skills: Cartographer 4 Fighter 6 Loremouse 2 Pathfinder 6 Persuader 3 Scientist 2 Survivalist 2 Traits: Inquisitive 1 Oldfur 1 Scarred 1 Wises: Hare-Wise Medicine-Wise Path-Wise Weasel-Wise Bio Questions: Home: Sprucetuck Talent: Cartographer Specialty: Pathfinder Parents: Glenn and Sylvia Mouthus (Deceased), Cartographers Artisan: Rosalee the Cartographer Mentor: Maren Lightpaw (Deceased), Pathfinder professor_curly fucked around with this message at 18:18 on Jul 21, 2016 |
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Jul 20, 2016 22:59
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 The bakery turns out to be a good one, and soon Dael has a small basket of delicately spiced seed cakes. The artisanal reputation of Barkstone is not merely parcel to glass and furniture; they are tender and succulent. Across the street is a well built inn by the name of The Tattered Cloak, the construction is a bit different than many of the other buildings in the settlement; tucked in amongst the curving and delicate frames of her neighbors this inn sits like a squat fortress, small windows and sharp angles. Within the place it is warm and cozy, a banked fire in a tremendous stove keeping the spring chill at bay. Over the bar hangs the namesake of the place; a faded, tattered cloak that looks to have once been lemon yellow. Beneath it hangs a sword. It is not the shining work of craftsmanship one might expect in a place of artisans, but a chipped thing. It is a tool of war that has been laid to rest. The place has but a few mice in it at the moment; it is late afternoon and most of those who would otherwise have cause to gather are working. Only a few old mice gather in the corners, playing cards and talking of days gone by. It has the smell of yeast and smoke and home about it, and as the two patrols enter a woman approaches, at least as old as the folk resting here. She is missing an eye and an arm, and visible under her innkeepers apron are fresher scars still. Walking proudly, yet with a limp, she smiles to see the newcomers. "Welcome, welcome, Mice of the Guard," she says giving a Guardmouse's bow. "I am Lynn, welcome to my inn and home. Sit, sit. Would you drink with an old Guardmouse to days gone by?"
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Jul 21, 2016 16:12
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Llewella "A toast from us would be light praise indeed - you know well a thirsty guardmouse just back from patrol will drink to anything," Ella says, "But it would be a pleasure to drink with you, ma'am. And we've a seed cake to share, I'm sure." Ella will give hers up if need to be to make that true, but there should be enough to go around. As she takes a seat, Ella looks over the interior, noting the oldfurs and especially the sword and cloak. Part of her wants to ask, another doesn't want the answers. She suspects someone will bring it up, regardless.
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Jul 21, 2016 17:40
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Thom Mouthus He laid his spear against the wall as he entered, hanging his pack and belongings on a nearby coathook after retrieving another pawful of leaves for his pipe. He gave a nod to Lynn as he eased himself into a proper chair, trying not to let the luxury of the situation lull him to sleep. "A drink to old times, yes. More peaceful, innocent times," he adjusts his glasses and peers at the oldfur. Vague memories in the back of his mind - perhaps they had met sometime in the misty past? Or maybe he was seeing the faces of friends in this retired guardmouse's face. He takes a puff from the pipe, rocking in his chair slightly, "You have a beautiful inn. A nice reminder of home."
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Jul 22, 2016 02:23
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Oswald As fresh from tenderpaw life as he is, Oswald knows his cue. He produces a ration brick from under his cloak and snaps it in half, placing one chunk in front of Ella and one on the bar top in front of the innkeep.
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Jul 22, 2016 02:51
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Connall Connall has been casting an armorer's eye over the hanging weapon as well, and smiles with respect at the old Guardmouse. Offhandedly leaning his axe against the wall behind his chair, he settles with obvious contentment. "Homelike indeed. Just the right kind of place for a few Guardsmice just looking for a bit of quiet before the next job comes along."
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Jul 22, 2016 11:18
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Lynn's eyes flick to the hunk of seed and fat that is the ration brick Oswald produced and laughs. "No need for that, young one. No need at all." She gestures, and in the space of a few moments a pair of younger mice appear, a set of twins. They bear trays of hard cheese, roasted acorns, figs, and bread. "My grandchildren," she explains. "Two of them, anyhow. None of that dreadful trail crunch here," althogugh as she says this she picks up a sliver of the stuff that was shed when the lad broke it. She tastes it, wincing. "Tastes much the same. I might have carried this in my own pouch, this very loaf." As the mice settle in, the twins pass around mugs of ale and dish out the fare. "I will confess to motives other than hospitality," she says after taking a long pull from her own mug. "I have not heard news from Lockhaven in an age. How fares the place? We heard little from the Guard here, until the end, and then all was in confusion. My own daughter I have not seen in months. Seen ye Brinna of Barkstone? A slender lass, with a cloak as crimson as sunset in the summer."
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Jul 22, 2016 17:11
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Daelyn Looking up from the delicious piece of cheese she's nibbling, Daelyn speaks with some uncertainty: "I can't say for sure it was her, ma'am, but I did meet a girl like that -- with crimson cloak, and dark fur like yourself, ma'am. She seemed well, but we - I didn't - we only spoke in passing, so I didn't learn her name... She was with Eadworth's patrol. They're bound for Sprucetuck, I - I think." She looks to Thom for support.
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Jul 23, 2016 01:53
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Lorelei Lorelei rustes the fur of the two nephews as they pass out food in a gesture that would be much better suited to an older mouse. She picks at a fig and soon has the syrupy juice gumming to her claws. "Sprucetruck," she nods to Daelyn's words. "If we're thinking of the same red-cloaked young lady, Sprucetruck was where she was heading. I can't speak for her safety now, my host, but when we crossed paths she was healthy and sociable. We talked about our cloaks because of the similarity in colour, don't see many folks dressed like us these days."
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Jul 24, 2016 22:21
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She smiles at that, raising her mug. "I thank you for that, Mice of the Guard. It's a long path to tread, and few end as well as I have," she says with a grim chuckle. With that the afternoon proceeds into evening, a mix of food and ale and tales. As the sun sets, mice begin to fill the tavern, and Lynn excuses herself to tend to the needs of her customers. Outside, beyond the cozy confines of the inn a massive peal of thunder rolls across the sky. The spring storms are here in force, and this one sounds formidable. Still, few settlements are as sheltered from such things as weather as Barkstone, and outside the windows mice continue to go about their business. It is a dramatic change from only a few months before, when so much was in turmoil and doubt. Perhaps peace might yet return to the settlements. There is a great thump outside. Veteran guardmice recognize it well enough, a hare being pulled up short. Moments later the door bursts open. A green cloak and black fur frames bright eyes which search the crowd. Otto the Runner; one of the youngest at Lockhaven to bear a cloak and certainly the youngest of the messengers, glances over the stunned to silence crowd until he sees the patrols. Approaching, "Patrol Leaders Thom? Ella? I come bearing dispatches from Gwyndolyn." He is dripping wet, soaked to the skin, yet the intensity he bears for all of this might well begin to steam if he does not hand over the sealed scrolls in his hand soon.
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Jul 25, 2016 06:30
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Maeve The tenderpaw had little to contribute throughout the course of the evening, and spent most of it out of the lime-light, observing. This sort of environment was entirely new to her, and she did little more than stay close to her mentor and watch the goings on around her. Hands down, the toughest part was to exercise restraint during moments of storytelling, either to correct others who had their facts wrong, or to share an arcane snippet of her own. The little greyfur had discovered in the past, however, that older mice rarely enjoyed being corrected by someone like herself. Almost certainly less so after they'd had a bit of the drink in them. The matters at hand were inconsequential, and this time and arena were hardly suited for one such as herself. Maeve had recognized Otto the moment he entered the tavern, an affable mouse near her age that she'd ran into on multiple occasions in Lockhaven, but said nothing. He had a job he was doing, and right now that job involved mice that weren't her. Still, she couldn't help but to smile and subtly point a finger in the direction of the two Guardmice the messenger sought moments after she saw him.
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Jul 25, 2016 07:34
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Connall Connall sitffened as the door opens, one hand almost unconsciously going for his axe until he recognized the messenger. With a slight sigh, he sat back, taking a deep drink before raising an eyebrow in the patrol leaders' direction. "Nice to be wanted, isn't it?" Sarcasm will do as a vehicle for good humor, it seems.
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Jul 25, 2016 07:38
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Thom Mouthus At some point the oldfur had started drifting in and out of sleep. His head would nod forward, eyes closed. Not always asleep though - he would sometimes simply be deep in thought, and would add in a word or two to the conversation going on. The rain and the thunder do not disturb him. However the thumping gait of the hare draws him out of his nap instantly. His ears perk up, and doesn't seem surprised when the young messenger stumbles in, wet and full of purpose. Thom stands up, tapping the ashes from his pipe into the fireplace and turning to face the new arrival. "Greetings young Otto, yes we're here. Come stand by the fire, before the chill takes you," he says, holding out his hand for the dispatch, "What is the news from Lockhaven?"
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Jul 25, 2016 11:56
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Llewella Ella had been content to enjoy her drink and listen to the tales being spun. She's also been busy with her hands - winding together bits of straw and twigs into something that might be a basket, though its rather shallow, or a hat, though its rather small. She sets it aside as soon as Otto enters and makes her way over. "To be sure," Ella says quietly to Connall as she passes, "But maybe a bit less so to be needed." She steps up beside Thom and takes the offered scroll. She breaks the seal and unrolls it, eyes scanning quickly past the formalities, looking for the heart of the matter.
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Jul 26, 2016 01:02
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Daelyn Soon enough, she's beginning to feel just a little bit dizzy -- the effects of Mistress Lynn's delicious brew. Listening quietly to the stories of others is easy enough, but it took two glasses of ale before Daelyn had the courage to contribute one of her own, a tale told by Finn of how his patrol once fended off a furious goose. She's just gotten to the part where the goose lands on top of the bakery when Otto arrives. It looks like the funny ending will have to wait for another day. Excusing herself, Daelyn leans up to the window and looks out at the pouring rain and the pitch-dark sky above with some dismay. Hopefully whatever it is can wait until dawn, but judging by the state of poor Otto that seems unlikely. She pulls a warm blanket from one of the seats and delivers it to the sopping messenger while the patrol leaders are reading.
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Jul 26, 2016 03:22
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Unrolling the missive, marked with the secret marks given to every Patrol Leader to let them know the message to follow is a true and certain order from Lockhaven, the birchbark missive is direct and to the point. pre:Leaders of the Guard, I hope this finds you well. We have a patrol sent to Pebblebrook; they have not made contact in some time. Patrol is as follows. Their mission was to re-establish contact with the settlement and to check the far western scent barrier integrity as well as ascertain the condition of the frontier Nico - Patrol Leader, redfur graying at the tips, scar above the right eye, black cloak Trevor - Guardmouse, beige fur with a white spot on the chest, dark green cloak Alia - Guardmouse, light gray fur, missing the tip of her tail, white cloak Maya - Tenderpaw, rust redfur with a black spot over the left eye We need you to discover what happened to the patrol and, if neccesary, deal with whatever has caused them to be so delayed. Do not get in over your heads, we can ill afford to lose a second (or third) patrol. That said, our presence in that area has always been thin at the very best; we can ill afford to lose contact with an area so close to the border again. Enclosed are enough funds to resupply your patrols with provisions for the journey. Yours, -G
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Jul 26, 2016 05:48
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Llewella Ella frowns at the scroll for a moment, already making a list of what they need. After a moment, she catches herself and shakes her head. "They are such, and you're right - this is no night to be out, save at greatest need." She passes the scroll to the other Guard mice. While they do, she pulls out a blank one of her own and quickly writes out a response in her cramped but clear hand. quote:Gwendolyn, She shows it to Thom while she makes out the second copy. "We're well set on most needs, save one - we've not any scent." Ella shrugs. "So we'll have to be looking for Nico's patrol first. He's solid, but not always quick on his feet. Relies on Alia for that." She glances at Connall when she says this. Nico and Alia had been of their crowd, back when they'd had a crowd at Lockhaven. Too many friends lost in the war - and the ones left, maybe no longer the same as who they'd been before. At least Finn was still the same, but he was a long ways off as of the now.
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Jul 26, 2016 06:33
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Lorelei Lorelei's eyes flare at the missive and a sneaky smile creeps across her pointed face. She eyes Llewella's writing eagerly as she scrawls, nodding at her own name placed on the list for some reason. "We'll find them," she says confidently. She lifts a tankard and drowns it in heavily, desperate gulps, then stands and slaps at her bladder (well, more her stomach, but the intent is clear). "If scent is what we need, then I can assure you that I will provide us with as much as we need. Come, a little more drink, not enough to leave us groggy, but enough to keep us going. If I have to keep the scent border up single....handedly... then provisions must be made for such an endeavour!"
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Jul 26, 2016 12:23
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IT IS ON. Please take a moment and note your GOAL for the session; this GM Phase will end when the (presumable) threat is dealt with.
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Jul 26, 2016 19:55
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Llewella's goal is "I will discover the fate of Nico's patrol."
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Jul 27, 2016 05:25
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Loralei's goal is: Is that too long-winded/intangible for a goal or does that work okay? "I will act in a way that impresses my superiors...even if they feel obligated to chastise me for those actions." Captain_Indigo fucked around with this message at 16:13 on Jul 27, 2016 |
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Jul 27, 2016 14:14
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Oswald's goal is "I will impress Ella with my skill on this mission."
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Jul 28, 2016 00:31
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Daelyn's goal is "I will not flee in the face of danger."
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Jul 28, 2016 03:12
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Connall Connall nods at Ella, looking thoughtful. "Nico's steady. Hopefully they simply ran afoul of weather and holed up somewhere remote to wait it out." From the set of his face, it's clear he does not think that terribly likely, especially if Gwyendolyn is sending two full patrols to investigate. Taking another sip of his drink, he shoots what is meant to be a reassuring smile to Maeve, the flickering firelight making the expression briefly seem almost a grimace. "We'll find out." Connall's goal is "I will ensure Maeve survives." Liquid Communism fucked around with this message at 10:55 on Jul 28, 2016 |
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Jul 28, 2016 06:29
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Maeve Being on the road the first time. Despite hardgoing, light mood. Now turned sour on news. Although the trek to Barkstone was not without it's own hardships, the knowledge that the journey's end would bring about reunions and relief had instilled within the young greyfur a certain light-heartedness. A mood shared by a few others, that had proven infectious among the others in the group the closer to Barkstone they got. The journey before them now was not the same. Finding Nico's patrol safe from harm was a much less certain outcome, and that prospect seemed to cast a gloom that served to further darken the stormy night. Maeve found no solace in the light of the fire, nor the warming effect of her spicy drink, and glancing around the dim tavern she caught her mentor looking her way. He was frowning before he looked away. An ill portent. Maeve's goal is "I will prove my worth to the Guard."
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Jul 28, 2016 08:48
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Thom Mouthus Thom frowns as he reads his missive, giving a nod to Ella as she writes a response. He moves over to his pack and belongings, grabbing the waterproof case he carries his travelling maps in. He asks the others to clear off a table to let him spread out a few maps, lit by the fire. "The western border..." he starts tracing out the path with his paw, giving a long look to Connall and Ella. Pebblebrook was the new western frontier. Weasel country. It was going to be risky. He remembered back to how he had cracked on the way here - he vows to himself he will make up for it, and prove himself worthy of the leadership he'd been given. Goal: I will prove myself worthy of leadership. Thom then starts plotting out the best path, trying to guess what ponds and rivers might have formed because of the weather.
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Jul 29, 2016 00:28
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 It is a considerable distance between here and Pebblebrook; the spring rains and the like will not have made it any easier. Rolling out the map, it looks like there is a main trail that heads that way which cuts through a number of lowlands. Those could be lethal in this weather, but they'd be the fastest and best maintained of the bunch. Complicating matters would be trying to pick up the trail along the way. For a small group, that might mean a lot of work. For two patrols working in tandem, however, many paws might make light work. Two Challenges - TRACK THE PATROL and PATHFINDING/TRAVEL, I figure we can try to juggle two related threads at once.
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Jul 31, 2016 03:32
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Oswald Once the patrol's out on the Pebblebrook road, Oswald doesn't wait for orders. He starts looking for spots the other patrol would have gone off the road, either for an emergency or to bed down for the night. Thing is, people and animals are both predictable. The path of least resistance is the path everybody takes. Trick is just picking which one it is. The problem is the rain. It's blown through and erased tracks and scents - all the Guardmouse can go on is his own judgement, not evidence. Track the patrol: Roll Scout + Wolf Snout, got 2 successes. Bleh.
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Aug 1, 2016 00:39
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 There's still plenty of puddles left over from the rain when the patrols set out, which finally reveals the purpose of what Ella was working on last night. She makes a few minor adjustments, then slips it into the puddle, where it proves to float quite nicely. She cocks her head and observes it for a few moments. Just when it looks like she might have forgotten about their task, she turns and hurries to catch up. Once they're actually out on the trail, she's a lot more attentive. Maybe a bit creepily so, as she peers around a bit twitchily. She watches Oswald hurry ahead, frowning a bit. She's seen his skill in the wilderness, but... In any case, So Ella's skills are probably more useful to provide help to others here.
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Aug 1, 2016 04:16
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 For all that it was nice to shelter over in Barkhaven last night, Connal is just as happy to be back on the road. Before an hour's out, he's settled back into his usual spot on the trail as tailguard, letting his professional paranoia keep his ear perked for signs of ambush. Scouting a trail isn't his cup of tea, but he fully expects that his own brand of expertise will come in handy soon enough.
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Aug 1, 2016 07:09
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 Daelyn watches Oswald work with a skeptical look. While the rest of the patrol is focused on trudging through the mud without getting covered in gunk, he's busy poking around bushes and sniffing at the trail like a fox. Quite unusual. Eventually she finds her interest piqued enough to come forward and examine what he's doing, hoisting her satchel high to keep it free of the mud and peering (somewhat impolitely) over Oswald's shoulder. "You know..." Daelyn hesitates, not wanting to interrupt the scout's concentration. "When Nico's patrol came through, it was before the weather changed; they would have had clear skies. They would likely have taken the lower roads, to stay out of sight of any predators. Of course, for us..." She points down the slope, at a trail now completely submerged under a few inches of murky brown water, and makes a face. Offering to help scout; I've got Scout 2.
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Aug 3, 2016 04:17
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 Maeve does not stray far from her mentor. Although she'd been intent on observing what the others of her small group did, the tenderpaw's own limitations were made obvious to her in such matters. She could recite all the names of the leaders of the principal mouse establishments, find virtually anything in Lockhaven's archives, and quote Guard regulation, but she was no scout. By virtue of the absence of additional mice to escort they were certainly traveling faster, but it was certainly not on account of anything she was contributing. She would do what she did best: watch and learn. Sweet. Thanks for the nameplate thingy, Gorbash! Also, sorry about taking a little longer than expected to get this in. A tornado tried to kill me with a tree Sunday night. I am also of virtually no use on either of these tests. The sorry lot of an administrator mouse out to gain some field experience.
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Aug 3, 2016 05:37
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| # ? Apr 25, 2024 07:17 |
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 Thom pours over his maps and tries to draw on his personal experience on those paths, but the storm is making everything very uncertain. Even the venerable pathfinder does not seem to be confident in the steps he is planning... Pathfinder + Pathwise + Maps (8d6): 1 Success, 7 Failure Well this might be a very short, or a very long trip. professor_curly fucked around with this message at 05:46 on Aug 3, 2016 |
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Aug 3, 2016 05:39
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