Post by Redstripe the Strong on Apr 18, 2008 20:23:10 GMT -5
Hitchaw returned to his crew by the river,"Well laddies them moles be needin us ta run an arrand for 'em." He looked at their small ships, he would never call them pretty ships boats, and nodded,"Good. Didj 'all git some supplies for us? Bread and all that." He nodded as there was a few cheers of yes sir."Good, and we all got som fishin rods and nets so we ain't going out there like newborn dibbuns." He turned,"Mayhap we may come across a good creature to travel with." Hitchaw and the two score of otters boarded the ships and cast off down the river Moss."Lets see we gotta find them some type of herb, whasit called agin...ah Deep Dirt Fungus."
The laughing, carefree voice came from a squirrelmaid, perched on the branches of a tree overlooking the river Moss with the otter and his crew, sailing on their boats. Flight, wanderer and thief combined, balanced easily on the sturdy branch of the tree, which barely dipped from her weight.
With a merry laugh, the young squirrel raced along the branch of the tree, and took off in a tremendous bound, landing on the branch of another tree along the river. "Care t' 'ave me wi' ye?" Flight shouted down at the otters. "I've nothin' better t'do, an' ye seem t' be fine beasts who know their way 'round 'ere, unlike some I could mention."
Flight rolled her eyes, as she leapt to another branch, keeping up easily with the otters on their boats.
Post by Redstripe the Strong on May 5, 2008 18:35:27 GMT -5
"Looking fer Deep Dirt Fungus. An we'd be glad ta have ye along missie." Hitchaw looked up at her in the branches,"Jump on down ta the me craft, we're bout to have a liddle lunch." He turned his attention back to the river, he was manning the rudder, and expertly avoided a rock.
"Thank ye fer the offer, otter, but I prefer t' keep my feet on th' ground." Flight shouted, bounding along the branches with fleet-pawed grace. Her eyes twinkled merrily. Treeflyers, squirrels were called, and Flight lived up to that title.
Suddenly, Flight stopped and crouched down, her bush wrapping around her paws. "Lunch, ye say?" She sucked at her paw, seeming to be considering. "Well, I ne'er say no t' a bit o' 'vittles, an' I ain't 'bout t' start now." She grinned down at the otters.
" 'Old steady fer a mo', mates, Flight the Wanderer o' Lands is a-comin', an' 'ungry fer lunch!"
With surprising agility, the squirrelmaid scrambled down the tree where she was currently perched in, and ran a few steps to the riverbank. "Cummon, ye streamdogs, 'ungry squirrel waitin' o'er 'ere!" Flight called, waving a paw.
Post by Redstripe the Strong on May 6, 2008 22:15:34 GMT -5
"Ya lot eard her!" Hitchaw swung the rudder and turned his craft towards the shore. The three other crafts followed suit. The small ships dropped their anchors and the otters went ashore.
The otter cooks prepared several dishes. Hotroot soup with shrimp, honey and chestnut scones, a sea otter who came along with the crew fished up a few river clams and made clam and cheese salad, a sea otter treat, and this was all washed down with sweet honey milk or October ale.
Hitchaw chose a comfy spot by a tree, sitting on a pile of leaves. He watched as his crew got their fill and ate his.
Although Flight declined on the hotroot soup, she took a generous helping of everything else; especially the scones. Settling herself down under the shade of a tree, she started to plough through her meal. "Ah, 'tis the life, matey!" She commented to an otter sitting next to her. "Aye, matey, but yer might wanna talk wi' 'Itchclaw o'er yonder; 'e's our captain."
The squirrelmaid nodded and shrugged. "I'll go soon as I finish this scone, bucko! 'Tis too good t' leave t' waste!" Flight took another massive bite.
Finally finishing her meal, the squirrelmaid drained the last of her sweet honey milk and swiped the back of her paw against her mouth. " 'Aven't 'ad a meal like this fer quite some time," She remarked, turning to the same otter she had spoken to earlier. The otter yawned widely, leaning back against the tree. "Name's Reckypaw. Ev'rybeast 'round 'ere calls me Reck or Recks though. Yer can too, if yer wants."
"Shore, Recks." Flight said, with a grin. "Now, I bettah go talk wi' yore cap'n. Itchclaw, issit?"
Reckypaw shook his head. "No, not Itchclaw. 'Itchclaw. Wi' a 'h' sound."
Flight simply looked confused, and shrugged. "I'll worry 'bout that when I 'ave t', mate. I'll see ye later then, Recks." She waved, twisting up nimbly to her feet, and made her way over to 'Itchclaw'.
"Recks o'er yonder sez I should speak wi' ye, Cap'n....Itchclaw, issit?"
Post by Redstripe the Strong on May 9, 2008 0:04:16 GMT -5
He blinked once and looked at her,"Well lass I rekon thar ain't much ta talk bout." He spoke different from his crew, having learned to speak like Redstripe."Tis a small favore for the moles of Moledeep, need some root for a healing salve." He sighed,"Tis good ta have a treeflyer, ye make good scouts fer along the river. But at somepoint ye have to be on the ship. Else ye won't be able ta keep up. This river that we gotta foller curves off the main stream and crosses the flatlands in rushing rapids, ain't no trees, an unless ye can run like the wind then you'll be left behind." His nose twitched as he caught a familiar odor in the air."Ripfang? That you mate?"
"GAH! Everytime." A large black wolf stepped out of the foilage,"Hitchaw, its been a long time and you still know my smell." He chuckled a little and looked around the small camp,"So your on a quest are ye?"
Flight was about to respond with a cheery, "Ah, sure matey, e'en though I don't like 'em boats much," when a black wolf appeared. The squirrelthief sprang up immediately, one paw already on the hilt of her blade. She groaned inwardly. Perhaps she shouldn't have eaten so much, but too late for that now.
Or perhaps everything was fine. "Itchclaw" and the wolf seem to be friends.
Listening to the wolf's speech, Flight's eyes widened. She whirled around to face the otter captain. "It's Hitchclaw an' not Itchclaw?" She demanded, wincing at the sound of the name "Hitchclaw". It was a bit hard to pronounce for her.
"Oh an' speakin' o' which, who's this wolf anyway, Cap'n?"
Post by Redstripe the Strong on May 10, 2008 15:22:05 GMT -5
"Actually its Hitchaw, H-I-T-C-H-A-W." He looked at her and winked,"But my name ain't important, been called a lot of things in my life. Hitchaw's the name I stuck wit." He smiled.
"I'm Ripfang." He didn't seem social towards her, he didn't like squirels...only Stripetail was alright by him."And who are you?" He crossed his arms, seeing her grab at her sword,"T'wont do you no good, my pike can reach nearly ten times the length of that sword."
"Ah, alright then, Cap'n, an' I 'ope ye won't mind me callin' ye 'Itchclaw, Hitchclaw's too 'ard t' say fer me." Flight smiled back. The squirrelmaid turned to the wolf, Ripfang. She let go of the hilt of her blade.
"Aye mate, yer pike's much longer, but methinks t'ain't ten times longer than me ould blade, bucko." She said casually. Her bright eyes darted around. "Still, I don't want no trouble. I'm Flight, the Wanderer o' Lands, though ye can ignore the title. 'Tis just a little nickname otherbeasts give me."
Post by Redstripe the Strong on May 13, 2008 16:03:04 GMT -5
"Ole Ripfang's pike maya reached ten times yer sword long ago missy. Back when he had them runes on his body, could do magic and what not. And call me wat ye like." Hitchaw stood up and stretched,"Figure you'll want te come along to there Ripfang."
Ripfang nodded and turned towards the ship,"Aye." He walked towards and boarded the craft.
"I've ne'er been one fer magic, an' I'm no' sure, but I 'eard rumours 'bout magic not workin' 'cept in the O'er Side nowadays." Flight shrugged, her bushy tail twirling. "I'll be wi' me mate Recks if ye need me, or will we be settin' out now?" The squirrelthief was eager to be off, even if it meant Ripfang the wolf would be accompanying them. Waiting was never good for Flight.