Post by Rinafera Woxwitty III on Jul 17, 2006 3:16:21 GMT -5
OOC: I'm gonna practice here so I don't get my head ripped off at the Tournament.
BIC:
Mossflower was empty, and made no sound. The erie silence is all the young otter needed to freak out and leave, not to challenge anybeast. Looking around with paranoid brown eyes, Erksta scoured for foes, big or small. From his right foot-paw to as far as his eye could see was the same thing, green trees, grass, and dirt. Not a beast in sight. The addrenline pumped in his veins, and he frantically began to shuffle his paws to a tree. Leaning up back behind a tree, he shuddered as the cold, early spring breeze blew across his sweaty face. Rubbing his eyes with his paws, he dusted off his cloak that was wrapped around him. Erksta looked down at his old white pants, and the long dirk that was sheathed inside. Smiling, he he believed he had none to fear when with his trusty old dirk. The otter unsheathed the blade, with his eyes glinting from the steel and the reflcetion of the sun. He rested his paw a bit over the handle, rubbing the sapphire pommel that was crested into it. Raising it high, he barked out his challenge.
"I'm a Riverrider, a figh'er 'n' a re'el, fear me gud ole dirk as it whizzes a'ross yer face! Riverriiiiiiiiideeeeeeeer!"
He turned, waiting for a challenger. The otter smiled grimly and smirked, looking deep down the path, feeling strangely suppprted by his atmosphere. His eyes shifted from the dirt path up to the canopy of Mossflower, smiling jauntily as he noticed the size of the trees. Looking back down, he threw his dirk by the blade, sticking it into a tree, with the two points side by side. Plucking from out of the tree, he bellowed once more.
Fight me, ye cowa'ds! I saw toads tha' are be'er figh'ers than ye and yer f'iends!
BIC:
Mossflower was empty, and made no sound. The erie silence is all the young otter needed to freak out and leave, not to challenge anybeast. Looking around with paranoid brown eyes, Erksta scoured for foes, big or small. From his right foot-paw to as far as his eye could see was the same thing, green trees, grass, and dirt. Not a beast in sight. The addrenline pumped in his veins, and he frantically began to shuffle his paws to a tree. Leaning up back behind a tree, he shuddered as the cold, early spring breeze blew across his sweaty face. Rubbing his eyes with his paws, he dusted off his cloak that was wrapped around him. Erksta looked down at his old white pants, and the long dirk that was sheathed inside. Smiling, he he believed he had none to fear when with his trusty old dirk. The otter unsheathed the blade, with his eyes glinting from the steel and the reflcetion of the sun. He rested his paw a bit over the handle, rubbing the sapphire pommel that was crested into it. Raising it high, he barked out his challenge.
"I'm a Riverrider, a figh'er 'n' a re'el, fear me gud ole dirk as it whizzes a'ross yer face! Riverriiiiiiiiideeeeeeeer!"
He turned, waiting for a challenger. The otter smiled grimly and smirked, looking deep down the path, feeling strangely suppprted by his atmosphere. His eyes shifted from the dirt path up to the canopy of Mossflower, smiling jauntily as he noticed the size of the trees. Looking back down, he threw his dirk by the blade, sticking it into a tree, with the two points side by side. Plucking from out of the tree, he bellowed once more.
Fight me, ye cowa'ds! I saw toads tha' are be'er figh'ers than ye and yer f'iends!
**Homer Simpson yelp.**