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Post by Ffasma Doomsday on Feb 20, 2006 13:22:37 GMT -5
*It is a cool, calm night. A moon, just about full, hangs like a slightly broken silver pendant in the dark sky. It is low tide, and the waves lap gently at the shore, a soothing lullabye in the night. All of a sudden, a rustling noise can be heard on the path, disturbing the silence. Out stumbles Ffasma, swaying wildly, something clasped in her paw. She lifts the unknown object to her mouth, holding it there for a few moments, and then brings it down. The ferret wobbles onto the shore, nearly collapsing. Finally, she does fall, sprawling face-first onto the sand. She hastily scrambled up and sits there, staring stupidly into the dark waters, and occassionally taking a swig from the bottle in her paw.
Ffasma is more than just a /little/ tipsy...
The ferret hiccups and balances herself on the paw not holding her precious drink. She had spent the whole afternoon at the bar, listening to the surrounding beasts talk, and just lounging. She had not gulped down mug after mug of ale, but she had slowly drank five...ten...bah! she had not kept count!
Ffasma had never been tipsy before, much less drunk. She was teetering somewhere in between these two classifications, and she decided she liked it. She felt looser...more at home with the world. Hiccuping once more, the ferret collapsed on her back, smiling.*
This place idn't so bad...s'kinda nice, actually...*Ffasma giggled and sighed. She wondered if anybody would come down to the beach at this hour...and if they did come, what would they say? Her normally cynical, paranoid, awkward disposition has been replaced by the personality of a love-struck teen.*
OOC: Just something other than the raid...anybody can join, doesn't matter where you're from ^_~
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Post by Typhoon on Feb 21, 2006 8:08:02 GMT -5
Gazing at the full moon as he strolled up the beach path, Typhoon rested a weary, weathered hand on his sword hilt and sighed. His wounds from the recent battle with the raiders were still healing, but the badger had volunteered to be the town's night duty officer. It meant that his nightly visits to the tavern became less and less frequent, but the badger did not seem to mind anymore. A hip flask of whisky could last him throughout the night, and besides, the quiet night gave him plenty of time to contemplate his life and meditate.
Though Typhoon was no philosopher, he still had more scholarly pretensions than most badgers. How long could he live out his life here, under an assumed name? The Horde was a nice place, a place he now called home, but Typh had now for a long time been pining for his homeland. The cloudy, potent rice wine he imported from there was the only thread he kept with his homeland, and now even that had become too expensive for the badger to buy on his captain's pay. The badger sighed again and knew that he would never have enough money to pay for the long trip back.
Typh's meditations were disturbed when he heard a mumbling and groaning from behind some bushes. Hoping that his chain mail wouldn't make too much noise, Typhoon drew his thick hemp cloak around him and went to investigate, his sword half drawn. Typhoon was not so much surprised as amused when he found the drunk Ffasma on the sandy beach drinking to her heart's content.
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Post by Ffasma Doomsday on Feb 21, 2006 11:38:08 GMT -5
*Ffasma looks up, squinting in the moonlight to see what this thing above her was. She hiccuped once more and then tilted her head to one side, staring curiously at the form above her. It took a moment for her mind to register who this beast was, but when she did, she scrambled up and pulled her acquaintance into a hug. Ffasma never really knew Typh...not well, anyway. She had talked to him at the bar, but had sort of kept her distance...like always. But now, under the influence of alcohol, all of her paranoia and awkwardness vanished, leaving not even a wisp.*
Typh! *She hugged her friend tighter and then flopped back onto the sand. Taking another swig of ale, she motioned for the badger to sit.* Wotchoo doin' on the beach at nigh'? *She hiccuped once more and giggled.*
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Post by Typhoon on Feb 22, 2006 9:19:02 GMT -5
Typhoon stifled a cry of surprise as the obviously blind drunk Ffasma pulled him into a hug. At this point, the badger was almost 100% certain that the beast hugging him was not the cynical, paranoid loner that was his impression of Ffasma. Typh had always been stiffly formal to the more unfamilar beasts in the Horde, unless the occasion was an unusually joyous one. Before he could say anything though, the ferret pulled him down to the ground.
Wotchoo doin' on the beach at nigh'?
Typhoon composed himself, brushing an imaginary speck of dust of his cloak before answering.
"Just doing a routine patrol... Nothing more..."
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Post by Ffasma Doomsday on Feb 22, 2006 20:35:39 GMT -5
*Ffasma was oblivious to the face that Typh was very uncomfortable. She stared at him suspiciously as he responded to her question.* I think yer lyin'... *She leaned forward, so that her face was merely inches from his and squinted, as though trying to see through the badger. After a moment, she straightened back up and took another gulp from her flask, staring into the water.*
Nice night doncha think? *She hiccuped once more and paused. Suddenly, the ferret gave a little jump and grinned crazily.* I think we should go s-swimmin'! *She hiccuped once more and then clasped her paws together, rocking back and forth excitedly.* Yeah...yeah thas' a good idea! *Getting up, the ferret tugged on Typh's paw.* C'mon stripeywipeydoggy! Les' go swimmin'! *She hiccuped again and giggled drunkenly.*
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Post by Typhoon on Feb 23, 2006 8:10:52 GMT -5
I think yer lyin'...
Lying? Typhoon wasn't lying, not at the moment, but perhaps the badger had gotten so used to lying that he looked like he was even when he wasn't. But he didn't lie that often, so the odds were that Ffasma was absolutely stoned.
Nice night doncha think? I think we should go s-swimmin'!
Nice night? NICE NIGHT??!!?? It was hardly even early spring, and the crazy ferret wanted to go for a swim, in the sea, past midnight on a cold, frosty, windy, pitch black night? Actually, it was none of those things, though Typh could feel a slight wind picking up. It was just that the badger had never learnt how to swim... That, and he was starting to get a touch of rheumatism.
Yeah...yeah thas' a good idea! C'mon stripeywipeydoggy! Les' go swimmin'!
"Er... I think I'll...er... my rheumatics...er...My chainmail will get rusty...um...It's kinda dark... and er... OH HEAVENS ABOVE! LOOK AT THAT!"
The badger pointed at a spot behind Ffasma with his free hand, hoping that Ffasma was drunk enough to fall for the simple ruse.
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Post by Ffasma Doomsday on Feb 23, 2006 20:44:25 GMT -5
*Ffasma jumped a little and turned to where Typh was pointing. She quickly turned back, however, shrugging.* Th' body was dead when I gots thur... *She hiccuped once more and took another swig of ale. She wobbled a little, nearly falling on top of Typh, but she managed to stay up by pulling his paw.*
C'moooonnnnn stripeydoggy! Les' go swimmin'!!! *She yanked and yanked, not exactly at her strongest point right now. Sighing, the ferret stared at Typh, her purple-grey eyes boring into him. It looks for a moment that she is try to stare the badger down, but Ffasma suddenly drops her lower lip and gives Typhoon a puppy-dog stare. Surprisingly, it's not half bad...good, actually, for a ferret with her disposition.*
Pweeeeese, stripeybeast? PWEEEEEEEESE?! It'll be lossa fun, yes yes! *Ffasma unties her cloak and tosses it onto the sand. Staring back at Typh, she "toughens" her "look".* Pweeese?
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Post by Typhoon on Feb 25, 2006 9:33:53 GMT -5
Typhoon stared back at Ffasma uncomfortably. Obviously, the badger needed to think of something else to get Ffasma to sober up. Most beasts liked others more when they were more open to them, but in this case, Typhoon disagreed. He needed to find some way to get the ferret to sober up so that she would shut up. Maybe the frigid seawater would do so.
"Er... Alright. You go in, and I'll follow."
If he got out of this alive, Typh swore that he would NEVER, EVER come on a night patrol again. The safety of the fortress be danged, his sanity and dignity were more important to him.
OOC: Good Lord! I've hit Major! WOOT!
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Post by Ffasma Doomsday on Feb 26, 2006 20:37:17 GMT -5
*Ffasma broke into a grin, but it faded almost instantly. She stared at the badger, her innocent, pleading look gone.* I know 'dis trick...*She hiccups and empties her bottle of ale.* Yer gonna push me in...nuh uh we go in togeth'r or I'll... *The ferret pauses, thinking up some sort of punishment she could deal on the badger. Finally, she breaks into a grin, her eyes narrowing with michevious glee.* I'll tackle ya an' throw sand in yer eyes! *She cackles, but this quickly turns into a cough, which only makes Ffasma laugh harder.
But she shakes her head.* Yer not gettin' me to go in first...m'not stoopid ch'know! *She laughs again and falls down, landing on her butt in the sand. Reaching over, the ferret latches onto the badger leg.* C'mon...don't make me tackle ya...*This time, Ffasma cannot contain herself and she bursts into howls of laughter, tears streaming down her face.*
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Post by Typhoon on Feb 27, 2006 8:17:21 GMT -5
"Alright... Keep calm, keep calm..." Typhoon thought to himself. "She's probably too drunk to catch me, slow as I am, so why don't I just run for it? That ferret's drunk as a newt, she won't remember anything in the morning... Yes, that sounds like a good choice. Anyway, she'll have forgotten that I was even here before she stops laughing."
Typhoon unstopped his flask of whisky and took a quick mouthful, hoping it would keep out the cold, as he had to run without his long cloak hampering him. As always, the fiery liquor did not disappoint. As the warm liquid flowed down his throat, the badger experienced a comfortable sensation, the whisky warming up his body better than a fire could. He took off his cloak and his cumbersome chainmail, pretending to be going to swim, but as soon as his hauberk was taken off, the badger ran for it, his large shoes kicking up sand as they hit the ground. While he ran, he slung the chainmail and cloak over his shoulder. The badger decided to take the most convoluted route through the myriad alleys and streets to reach the fort. It was impossible for him to get lost in the town; he knew the place like the back of his paw.
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Post by Ffasma Doomsday on Mar 1, 2006 20:27:09 GMT -5
*Ffasma grins broadly as the badger begins to take off his chainmail and cloak. As he gets up, she tugs his paw eagerly, but suddenly, his paw is ripped from hers and Typhoon goes racing down the sand. The ferret stares at him for a few moments and then chuckles, taking off after the badger. She immediately stumbles, but manages to catch her balance and remain upright. Again, the ferret tries running, this time a little slower, and though she is wobbly she can keep her balance well enough. However, all this shaking and running makes her feel sick, and Ffasma stops a moment, clutching her stomach and groaning. She leans over and throws up, groaning even more. Finally, when she looks back up, she stares into the distance vacantly, trying to remember what she is doing. The memory of the fleeing Typhoon appears in her mind and she takes off afresh, ignoring the fact that she just got sick in the sand.
As Ffasma runs/stumbles along, she calls out to Typh, laughing and smiling like a Dibbun.* Aw y'ol stripedoggy...cantcha slow down for *she hiccups* for an' old ferretmaid like m'self! *She waves her paws.* TYPH YA ROTTEN BEAST, YER GONNA LEAVE ME ALL 'LONE LIKE 'DIS?! *Ffasma doesn't stop running, however, nor does she stop calling out, her cries slowly escalating into profanities. She is still laughing however, making it apparent that she is still joking and still has some sanity...
Sorta...*
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Post by Typhoon on Mar 3, 2006 4:04:52 GMT -5
Typhoon heard the shouting, vomiting, and profanities from the drunk ferretmaid; it shocked him, though it was no more than he had expected from the drunken Ffasma. The badger bounded across the wide path and ran onto the main street of the town. He knew Ffasma would be following him, and he had to make fast decisions about where he wanted to go. At least he would not leave any tracks on the cobblestone paths of the town.
Typhoon stopped for an instant to get his bearings, then ducked into the first alley on his right, which was the opposite direction to that which led to the fort. The alley was dark, but it was quite short, and it led to another, slightly better lit street. He turned right onto the street, ran down it for about a hundred metres, dodged into another alley on his left, and hammered at the back door of No. 121, a pawn-shop, which was on the left of the next street. The badger had visited the place before, when he was in desperate need of money. Now, however, he just needed a place to store his armour and cloak.
The wizened old face of the squirrel shopkeeper, Anthony, greeted the badger at the door. The squirrel motioned for him to come in, and the badger quickly did. As soon as Anthony closed the door, Typh passed the armour and cloak to him.
"Don't ask any questions, Anthony. I'm being chased by a mad ferret, and I need to store my things here for the moment. I don't need any money, I'll be back to claim it in the morning. You'd better lock and bolt your door; she's dangerous. If anyone knocks, look through the peephole before opening. Whatever you do, don't open your door to any ferret tonight. Got it?"
Anthony nodded. He had never been one for many words. The squirrel muttered a farewell while he carried the items down to the basement safes. Typh took another quick mouthful of his whisky before again running out into the cold night.
OOC: Could you understand that? I don't think I do myself...
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Post by Ffasma Doomsday on Mar 3, 2006 16:20:11 GMT -5
*Ffasma stumbles into the town, hiccuping something fierce. She stands for a moment, her paws on her knees, panting like crazy. Finally, she stands upright and continues trotting down the street. However, she stops again rather quickly, taking another breather, and trying to suppress something rising in her stomach. The ferret leans over and throws up once more, wiping her mouth on the back of her paw. She looks up blearily and continues down the alley, mistaking it for the street. Suddenly, she hears several loud thunks and a door open. Her ears perk up and she remembers Typhoon, energy rushing back to her at the memory of the fervent chase. She was now mostly chasing the badger for fun, though getting him to go swimming with her would be good. Ffasma took off once more, ambling along the alley. She hears the door of...whatever that was...open once more and she spots the badger hastily running away. Ffasma gives a silent giggle and speeds off, bumping into walls, but not making a sound.
She finds herself closing in on the badger, though this just means she is crashing into even more things. A trashcan goes toppling over and Ffasma knows the badger has now hear her, so she puts on a burst of speed and dives at him, hoping to at least catch his footpaws.*
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Post by Typhoon on Mar 4, 2006 6:50:46 GMT -5
OOC: Dang it! I meant to go out the back door, but I forgot. Ah well.
BIC: Typhoon heard a crashing sound from behind. Turning around as he ran, he saw the stuff that would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life; a drunken ferretmaid closing in on him and diving to catch his footpaws. She did, but Typhoon did not stop like any other beast instinctively would; he continued running and tore his leg away from the demented ferret that was grabbing at it.
Typhoon ducked into an alley on his left, turned at the first right, ran for fifty metres, turned left, ran some more, turned left again, turned right, ran for a hundred metres, and finally emerged at a dim street bordered by rows of low, flat-roofed stone buildings. He put on a burst of speed and sprinted to No. 78, on the opposite side of the street. His secret bolt hole. He could have stored his items here, but could he have gotten out of Ffasma's grasp holding on to a heavy cloak and armour? The badger thought not.
There was no way Ffasma would be able to find him here, but Typhoon wanted to get her back to the fortress. For her own good, of course. If something unfortunate were happen to her, Typh's conscience would never let him off. Typhoon bolted the door, climbed up the stairs to the rooftop, and took off across the houses. He finally came to the end, and jumped off. If Ffasma could not follow, Typh would send some of his more troublesome soldiers to look for her as punishment. They would find out how horrible the punishment was when they found her.
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Post by Ffasma Doomsday on Mar 4, 2006 15:32:26 GMT -5
*Ffasma landed with a solid thunk, scraping up her shoulder. She watched blearily as Typhoon continued running. She saw him dash down a few alleys, but she could not remember the order. Wearily, the ferret got up and continued running, trying to remember which way Typhoon had gone. Her headache had increased ten-fold and she was sure she would throw up again soon, though there wasn't much in her stomach. She was so deep in thought, in fact, that she failed to notice a wall...and went smashing into it. The ferret smashed face-first into the hard stone and crumpled to the floor, her nose bleeding. She started cursing wildly, rattling off every swear she ever knew. Ffasma looked around in vain for Typhoon...even this drunk ferret knew she could not get up and start chasing the badger...she needed some help! Raising her head to the sky, Ffasma let out her eerie, high-pitched scream/howl, though it was extremely warbley. When she had finished, she started cursing again.*
TYPH YOOH ROTTEN STRIPEYDOG...CANTCHA COME HELP A *hiccup* INJURED B-BUDDY!?!?
*Ffasma hoisted herself up and staggered a few steps before stopping to curse once more.*
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Post by Typhoon on Mar 6, 2006 8:08:34 GMT -5
As Typh ran down the main path to the fort, he heard a muffled cry, presumably Ffasma's. Though he was too far away to hear the words, the badger could tell roughly what she was saying just by the tone and inflection. By the sound of it, Ffasma had probably been injured. How else, except by desperation, could she have projected her voice so far?
The badger neared the outpost and dispatched the sentries to find Ffasma. It wouldn't be hard. They just had to follow the sounds of throwing up, swearing, and random yelling. Typh walked slowly down the path, before remembering that Ffasma would be out for his blood soon, and that he had better get back to his room and arm himself.
Typhoon pushed the door of his room open. He had larger accommodation after his promotion to Major, but the furniture and locks still remained the same. The badger slammed the door shut behind him, locked it, latched it with the three latches, bolted the five bolts, lowered the portcullis, and placed the hardwood plank in its brackets.
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Post by Ffasma Doomsday on Mar 8, 2006 18:01:16 GMT -5
*Ffasma gives a few coughs and gets on her knees, beginning to crawl. She is still shouting and cursing, but these are interrupted by bouts of coughing. The ferret finally stops, gasping for breath, and trying to stop the blood pouring from her nose.*
TYPH YOOH NO GOOD ROTT'N BADGER I'MA KILLS YOOH WHEN I STOP *She breaks out coughing again.* BLEEDIN'! LEAVIN' A FRIEN' LIKE 'DIS!
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Post by Typhoon on Mar 9, 2006 8:42:09 GMT -5
OOC: You want me to RP the guards, or do you want to do it yourself?
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Post by Ffasma Doomsday on Mar 9, 2006 19:42:44 GMT -5
OOC: You can! ^_^
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Post by Typhoon on Mar 10, 2006 3:35:19 GMT -5
Rorkreg still could not comprehend what the sadistic grin on the badger Major's face had meant. What sort of " 'orrible punishment" was looking for a drunk ferret? The rat had been expecting something much worse than this. Though, of course, he was not acquainted with the more crazy side of the ferret he was looking for... As he rounded a corner, he spotted the ferret lying on the ground in a pool of blood, shouting and coughing alternately. He sprang forward to help her up.
Though Typhoon had barricaded himself in his room, had a month's supply of food and firewood, and a multitude of weapons and armour, he was still not satisfied. Who knew what devilish tricks the devious Ffasma would unleash upon him to take revenge for the perceived wrongs the badger had committed against her. He set about putting his weapons and armour in order, testing and cleaning them. From the glaive-like weapons used by great generals back in the badger's homeland, to the rapid-fire magazine-fed crossbows he had designed and built himself, all were polished, cleaned, tested, sharpened, loaded, and made ready.
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