A/N: This is a segment of a roleplaying thread at Fort Ruddler's RPG boards.  This one is a huge IC mission roleplayed out by many different players. It gets somewhat confusing at times, due to the large amount of characters, but hopefully is still followable.  I edited spelling and grammar mistakes for the most part, but by and large I did not touch the dialogue.  The only character I wrote the part of was Riala. 

Wayside Patrol – Platoon 4 Grounds – Mission Sign-Up

Anybeast walking into the Platoon 4 grounds will find a wiry squirrel sitting on the steps of the barracks, leaning against a corner post and idly sharpening a well-used dagger. Her rust-gold tail, as scarred as the rest of her red-brown hide, flicks from side to side restlessly as she continues to scrape the whetstone along the gleaming length of the plain, serviceable weapon. A sheath of papers and an inkwell lies on the steps beside her, ignored as of yet.

"Well now, been quite some time since I seen yer ol' face, Riala m'gel. Now what of this bally mission yer settin' t'go out on?"

Another creature joins the marred squirrel, the features and attitude of the older gray hare marking him as none other than Mackbry Taffellappen. Absentmindedly pawing at the short dirk sheathed at his side, Mack stoops down and sweeps up one of the pieces of parchment. However, he takes from his tunic his own quill and ink, the quill matted and frayed, but somehow still holding its own.

"Mind if'n I join you on this little excursion, m'gel?"

An otter walks up and looks at what Mack was writing. "When isa this gonna be?" Tann asks curiously.

Riala glances up and nods in silent greeting when Mack and Tann walk in, then resumes honing her dagger as she speaks, answering Tann's question first. "The mission's supposed to start nine days from now… we'll be making preparations for it before hand," the squirrel says, then turns to Mack. "Didn't you read the notice about the mission? We're a trial patrol preparing for future patrols that might follow if this one works out. We're supposed to set up waystations for later patrols while running our own patrol circuit - helping out anybeast who needs it, you know."

Another creature, an otter, comes over toward the sign in spot. She is chocolate colored, and neither tall nor short, heavy or slim. Lupin, for that is her name, sports a blue tunic and navy pants, and a sabre is thrust through the sash that seves her as a belt. She seems to recognize Mack and Tann, though not the squirrel who appears to be leading the mission. "Er....Lupin Slipstream o' the Wavearrow ma'am. I was just wonderin' if ye'd let me come on your mission that I hear is leaving soon. I'd greatly appreciate it if I could."

A blonde furred otter strolls up to the female squirrel, gives her a little nod and tips her paw to her. “Aye there, I be Brook Briar, I hear that there is a trial patrol going out O' here soon. After them pesky vermin r' we? If 'in there is still time I'd love ta' give ya' a hand in it matey. This here is Kalen, he would be with me. He is learnin' ta' be a healer and he might come in handy out there. Plus it would do the lad some good, gettin' experience and all. Aye he's a bit young but me believes that he can hold his own.”

Brooke tugs at her dagger that is hidden under her long, flowing, deep purple skirt and tries to adjust it so that it is comfortable to her. Glancing around at the other beasts that were there to sign up she gives them a little wink and intoduces herself and Kalen. She met Tann and Lupin before but she had never met the older Hare. Again she looks at the squirrel and waits for her to introduce herself. But while she waits she grabs up the parchment and signs it: Brooke Briar and Kalen Rune.

The silence of the woodland morning is broken by the soft sound of treading footpaws. Long shafts of the sun's golden rays illuminate the back of a lone silent figure. A tall black shadow is cast upon the earthen floor, and the figure moves closer and closer to the small group of beasts beginning to grow like the buds of flowers beginning to bloom. The creature's species is unrecognizable, a ragged grey cloak shrouds the figure. The hood is up, and it shadows the face, and all distinct features..

...small group of beasts now, soon to grow. I have no real knowledge of any of them, their ways, and speak, how they treat the unknown. Are they wise or foolish, strong or weak? Do they know their enemy, do they know themselves?...

The beast looks almost hesitantly around at the group now staring at it. Two ebony paws reach out beyond the old burlap, and pull back the hood to reveal a male fox. His eyes are piercing as if they could see the soul. Sea-green on the outside, while bright orange around the center. They have a strange haze over them as if they had seen too much, too much to bare. His face is covered in silver scars, and three black lines almost invisible etch their way across his face. The fur is red, redder than that of any other fox, or anybeast. The face itself has a good-natured shape of one who would be afraid to fight, and would cringe and hide.

At last he speaks to the creatures around him, his voice scarce above a whisper, but audible to all. "I am Sergeant Kuja, I am here to join your patrol." Having said his piece, the fox replaces his hood, stands alone in his own shadowy realm. His mind is on other things, the strength of his group.

...The squirrel is obviously the leader, a true warrior, but yet she must not forget who she is fighting against. The hare is wise, he shows his wisdom. He may be old, but I am too, and many know that with age, with age comes wisdom. They are true leaders, and they know their enemy well. The two otters, they are young, and I cannot tell whether they are wise or foolish, time can only tell. With time, they will grow in strength not in the body, but in the mind...

Mack looks up as the two new otters and a mysterious fox arrived, he had never seen any of them before, a strange event for him. The older gray hare briefly sets aside his quill and inkwell as he makes an elegant leg towards Brooke and Kalen. "Major Gen'ral Mackbry Taffellappen, Gatekeeper of Ruddler, at yer service, marm! Although, tis jest Mack t'most, eh wot?"

He finishes up his sign-in sheet quickly and handed it to Riala, his sketchy handwriting showing this:

Mackbry Taffellappen
Major General
Infantry Division, Platoon 1

That done, he finally turns his attention to the mysterious fox whose face he had never seen. Mack, with a welcoming smile and a curt nod of his head, extends a friendly paw towards the fox. "Well, as y'heard, name's Mack. An' who be yer good self, sah?"

An otter named Streamrose walks in. "C'n I come? I have had lots of patrol duty at home, and i would love to do it here." She comes closer to Riala. "D'ya think I can?”

The fox is jerked from his own world by the voice of the older one. His black paws once again drift to his cloak removing the hood. His strange eyes stare at the hare piercingly as he grips the hare's paw. The grip is not tight of one who is trying to prove strength, neither limply of one who is weak. He places his other paw upon the elder's paw as a symbol of admiration.

...He is wise, and strong. Woe be to the foebeast who tries to fight the warrior, yet the warrior's heart must also be merciful....

At last the red fox speaks, but this time with more confidence, and this time with more purpose. His long rolling speech sails on the winds like last autumn's dried leaves. "Charmed Mackbry. I am Kuja Redbrush, but you can call me Kuja, or even Kuj if you wish." He withdraws his ebony paws, and holds them beneath the cloak. The wind takes its course through the fort's main grounds playfully tugging at the fox's cloak revealing his dagger tucked into his black leather belt.

The aged fox closes his piercing eyes, letting the cool breezes carry him back into the past. The sounds of song birds gracefully fluttering from tree to tree to play their harmonious music of trills and chirps brought him back to reality, back to what was, and what would happen.

...The group has grown. There is a young otter, just older than a kit, yet he shows more wisdom, and more maturity than many beasts that I have known in my life. The new female, Brooke I heard was her name, she must always be there to guide the young one, to teach him about what he needs to know, and learn in age, and when he should be on his own...

His eyes settle upon the newcomer, and he strides over to Streamrose. Being taller than the younger otter, he lays a paw upon her shoulder almost fatherly. He speaks to her. "Young one, you may be though of as young and foolish, but your heart is strong and bold. One day, you will be seen not as foolish, but as a leader of many."

Streamrose bites her lip. "I know I sounded overexcited and young then, and I am. Still, your words are true. A seer said the same things over me as a babe. Thank you. And on a more recent subject, there still lies the question: May I come?"

Rook's mood, though never entirely pleasant, is what could be considered mild as he enters the Infantry grounds. It sours as soon as he sees the fox, drawing the bitter taste of bile into the back of his throat which the otter hurriedly forces down his stinging gullet. His lips draw themselves into a vicious sneer, and as though by their own will, his legs bring him back a step while the fur on his calves begins to bristle, mirroring the quills of an angered hedgepig.

A piece of the past, shattered like glass held in it a fox, one who carried flame in his paw and dealt the scarring wounds of hellfire to those with no possible hope of resisting. Rook could have killed him then, could have easily slid each of his blades from where they slept and given them the smooth taste of blood with several deft, precise movements. He stays as he was though, his cerulean eyes locked with the figure of Kuja as his breath rolls heavy, pierced by anxiety.

"F-fox...what's a f-f-ox doing here?"

"Ah, well, good t'have y'aboard, m'lad. I trust-" Mack stops as Rook entered the area, a look pointed in Kuja's direction that would have soured milk and wilted flowers. Concern etching itself upon the older hare's face, he moves slowly towards Rook, reaching a paw out to comfort the anxious otter.

"Now, Rook m'boyo, calm yerself down. Tis a beast of the fort an' has a right t'be treated with respect. Not even I know what you've against foxes, or at least this one, but keep a level head about yerself afore you go makin' any decisions, eh wot?"

Rook wants no comfort from anybeast, and he makes this point clear by tearing away from the aged hare's paw, his voice shaking like the legs of a newborn about to take it's first cautious step. His attempts at boldness are also ill-disguised, and the otter feels vulnerable and uneasy in his own skin. "He's no friend of m-mine, Mackbry... none...."

Tann winces as Rook pushes away Mack's paw. How could he do that to him? He walks up to Rook and says urgently," Stoppit, 'tis no way ta treat a friend. Stoppit ah, say!" He then proceeds to Mack and says," Ah'm shore he didn't mean it, matey."

“Oh, he does laddie buck, he fully well means it, y'don't know him like I do. Tis his nature, an' frankly anybeast pushin' him around tain't a likely thing, but here goes." Mack puffs out his chest and heads for Rook. Inwardly he chastises himself, he knows full well Rook did not take sympathy from anybeast, even friends. A new approach was needed if this patrol was going to survive past the walls of Fort Ruddler.

Pushing the brim of his cap down so that it shadowes his eyes in a very officer-like way, Mack steps in front of Rook and crosses his arms. "All right Rook, tisn't sympathy you'll get then. Jest consider this: If'n you come alone on this patrol an' start creatin' a ruckus, twill be disobeyin' orders. So shape up, m'boyo!" The military tone seems an unusual thing for the normally jovial hare, but he had not earned his rank for nothing and Rook was no ordinary creature either; not that Mack wishes him to be ordinary. But proud creatures could be difficult to deal with; although inwardly Mack smiles at the thought.

A loathing of the situation clouds Rook's better judgement, and the white hot sea that was his temper begins to boil and seep past it's boundaries. Also, Rook feels as though Mack is inclined towards the side of his enemy, the fox. This brings him towards Mackbry, so close in fact that their muzzles nearly touch as the enraged otter speaks, his voice like steel on a carving block. "No trouble… but if he sets foot near me or so much as glances in my direction with an air of any discernable emotion, I'll gut him so help me Mackbry Taffellappen. On my family's forgotten name, I'll slit him open and turn him inside out."

"Fair enough." No longer does Mack seem angry; anger often tired him and he was not inclined to switch to it to prove a point very often. However, he does point a warning paw at Kuja, not harshly, but simply as a warning. "An' you'd do well t'listen to what Rook here is sayin'. There'll be no bloodshed of our own creatures on this mission if it can be helped, especially by one of Fort Ruddler's own soldiers. Best t'jest go along an' not look at each other."

With that said, the older hare pushes his cap farther up his head once more. Timidly he tries to put a comforting paw around Rook's shoulder, although he expects it to be pushed away. Mack lowers his voice as he speaks so as to let none but Rook hear his words. "Rook, don't take it personally. Tis of top priorty t'keep order. I'll make sure Kuja leaves you alone, jest don't go lookin' fer reasons t'hurt him, eh wot?"

Streamrose sits on a nearby stump to await an answer from Riala, her mind roving back to her childhood after Kuja’s words. Yes, she had seemed like her old little self there a moment ago, hadn't she? She is jarred to her senses by Tann's voice. "Wha- what's going on!?" she asks, surprised at Rook's actions. Mackbry's voice breaks her new thoughts. I suppose all is well with Rook's bad temper, she thinks. She dares to look in their direction, pleased to see that Rook had stopped fighting.

She sits back and thinks for a moment. Sometimes, she was the strong warrior otter of her future and near present, other times she was no more than a lost otterbabe, and figure from her past. Why all these emotions now!

Kalen looks around, feeling very 'grown-up' in the presence of all these grand creatures. He adjusts his new tunic and healers bag, and tries to make himself especially presentable. He sees Kuja eyeing him, sizing me up, he thinks. So he goes over to Kuja first and offers him his young but strong paw. “A pleasure to meet you sir! Boatswain Kalen Rune at your service.”

Riala watches the newcomers silently, observing the interactions between the various warriors of the steadily growing group. To those who ask to join the mission, she nods and gestures towards the sheaf of papers alongside a quill and inkwell. "We'll need all the help we can get," she says, and returns to watching the otherbeasts.

The red-brown squirrel begins to feel the first few twinges of apprehension as one of the otters encounters the fox. What was she getting herself in to? She's not good at calming raised hackles, she's inexperienced at any semblance of diplomacy... Her gradually tensing muscles slowly unclench as Mackbry steps in, doing his level best to sooth already frayed tempers. A good thing the hare was coming along; he was far better with otherbeasts than she.

Gold-brown eyes shift to the hooded, silent fox, studying him carefully. A few seasons ago, she'd have reacted to his presence the same way as the otter- still would, if he were a wolverine rather than a fox. But she's had vulpine friends before, learned that not all were to be hated. Wolverines, on the other paw... Her eyes narrow minutely at the thought, but she pushes it from her mind. No good thinking about that; it would just make her temper shorter, her mood darker than normal. And tempers were bad enough as it was.

Riala glances down at her dagger, forgotten in one scarred paw where she'd been honing it. She sheaths it at her side and slips the whetstone into her belt pouch. Her steady gaze returns to the ever-growing groupe, taking a silent tally. Help Mack with the otter? No, he seemed to have that under control, and her presence would just complicate things, especially as she didn't know the creature. Talk to the fox? Gold-brown eyes flicker to the angry otter and she shakes her head almost imperceptibly, negating the idea. Better save that for latter, on the trail - no need to inadvertently alienate the otter. A good thing the tod seemed a levelheaded beast; a more temperamental creature would have reacted harshly to the otter's hatred.

Speak with anotherbeast, then. Learn what special skills each has, think of where to place them along the trail, figure out shifts for sentry duty... Seasons! Riala shakes her head in ironic amusement. She was starting to sound like an officer. Now that was a frightening thought!

The male fox gratefully accepts the younger otter's paw. He looks at it for a moment, so small in his own large one. He again places his other paw on top, and kneels down on the damp grass so to be the same height as Kalen. ...I see now, that there is more strength in his small paw than I have seen in many warriors in my long lifetime...

"A pleasure to meet you Kalen, as you may have heard, I am Kuja."

The red fox stands up from the grass and takes a sideways glance at the male otter, the one who hated him so well. He turns away, shaking his head almost mournfully. ...It's a shame to hate one so much, for hate does eat the soul away, and all goodness held within...

Turning to Mackbry, he slowly speaks, but his voice rings like the blacksmith's hammer ringing steel. "Then, I shall stay away from him."

His voice then takes a slightly louder tone as he calls out to Rook. "I never slew your family Rook, nor would I ever intend to do harm you or anybeast here, but let us be away from each other, if...if that is your wish."

Mack's promise of separation serves well to slake Rook's anger as well as his fears, though hate still flows freely with the heated blood in his constricting veins. Also, a growing sense of shame begins to wander through him as he realizes his outburst has drawn a dozen eyes to his cause. Head dipped low, he leans into Mack's comforting hold, his voice coming wearily and from under the breath. "You're guilty by birth fox, so my animosity is nothing personal. I was made to hate you the very minute your kind and the rest of them set paw upon our beach called home. Deal with it and heed the hare's words if you value your innards."

Brooke watches as Koja's cold eyes rove up and down Kalen. Inconspicuously she pulls Kalen even closer to her body. It's hard for her to trust a beast that seems to be inspecting things and is so openly giving himself so much credit. Honor and wisdom has to be proven to Brooke not by words but by actions, so until that happens it is just a bunch of hot air to her.

Kalen then pulls away from Brooke's grip and suddenly she feels a little panic stricken for his safety. She can feel her blonde hair stand on end as she watches Kalen walk over to the male fox. But Brooke is careful to restrain herself so she does not set off any unwanted emotions with the others beasts since there is already tension in the air. She wants to run and scoop him up but she does not.

Brooke glances over in Rook's direction as she stands there, almost helpless. She does not say a word but waits for Kalen to be back in the embrace of her arms.

From the shadows, a black otter steps into the area where the crowd of Fort Ruddler beasts is gathering. She had been unnoticed in the shadows, where she had been the whole time. Now she looks around, trying not to smile. She giggles with glee as she sneaks up behind Brooke.

“I say... BOO!”

She watches Brooke jump in surprise and almost falls over laughing. She dares not look at Brooke's stern gaze, knowing she wouldn't be able to contain her. She grins mischievously and places her paws on her hips. She notices the tension still lingered in the air, so she keeps her quiet. Without saying another word to Brooke, or anyone else, she picks up a sheet of paper and proceeds to sign her name.

A young male squirrel appears from around a corner, his head and ears perk up a bit as he spots Platoon four's barracks. He is a surprisingly muscular, but otherwise medium built adolescent male squirrel. His red fur fades into a dark brown strip that runs down his back and onto his tail. Two strange black markings appear in his coat. One, covers the last quarter of his tail all the way to the tip, and the other is an upside-down bell shaped patch between his, dark brown, eyes that runs to the end of his nose. He wears a light brown tunic, with a matching brown belt, under which he wears a forest green cloak. A sling and pouch with stones dangle from the left side of his belt while his dirk is sheathed on the right.

He heads towards the stairs of the barracks keeping an eye out for the female red squirrel that he was told was in charge. Nervously, he glances around at the others already gathered. Something felt off, but not knowing the cause, he lowered his head and speed up as he made his way around the crowd, trying not to draw any attention to himself. Spotting the red squirrel, he makes his way to her and introduces himself.

"You're Riala Goldentail correct? I'm Cinder Elmcreek. Ariel mentioned that your looking for volunteers for a Patrol. Anything I can do ta' help?"

Another otter walks into the platoon grounds. "Righty, what's all thins hullabuloo? Eh? Ye wouldn't let a gal know if ye were all going out on a mission or something, would ye? O' course not, so I had tae sniff ye'all out by meself." She salutes smartly to Riala, "Howdy there marm, Pearl C. Stormwind, Fleet admiral aboard the Wildshadow reportin' in to ye. Howdy folks! Better a bit late than never, eh?"

Riala watches the growing tension warily, wiry muscles bunching in preparation for action as the fox hurls aside his dagger and sling. She relaxes only minutely as he takes no hostile action, but his words snatch even that near-imperceptible amount away. Especially that last statement... a truth about herself that she has already begun to realize in these past few seasons.

You too have slain, and you in yourself are dangerous to yourself and everyother beast here.

The shock and pain within shows in shadowed gold-brown eyes for only an instant, nothing more than a flicker across a scarred and normally immobile face. The squirrel walls away the emotions, the uncertainty, features impassive once more. No time for emotion, for indecision, not now- not when she had to lead an already-difficult group across the Northlands for seasons knew how long.

Riala barely hears Cinder's question and Pearl's statement, too intent on the scene before her, but manages to give him a terse reply. "Sign up there if ye wish tae come along," she tells him, her normally imperceptible northern accent becoming stronger with the shared tension of the grounds. The steel in her gold-brown gaze tells all who are perceptive to notice that she's come to a decision. She rises from her seat at the barracks deck and walks across the grounds, near silent, until she's positioned between the fox and the otter.

The squirrel's gaze is cold enough to freeze even the otter's boiling temper as she stares hard at each of the creatures in the grounds, especially at the fox and the otter. "We are going tae be with each other for several weeks," she tells them coldly, voice steel-hard. "We'll be workin' taegether, fightin' taegether. If ye canna bring yeself tae be at least peaceful within th' group, then leave now. I'll not have this mission fail because of a mere prejudicial hatred or uncontrolled tempers."

"Only you should be as afraid...." Rook says to the fox before he spits venomously, the taste of salt and copper stinging from where it had seeped between his teeth. So initially taken aback had be been by the figure of Kuja that without even feeling pain, the otter had bitten the inside of his own cheek. His pointed gaze follows the fox who now sought solitude while his own breath slows to near normal. "Good riddance..." are the only words his brain knew, though he'd said enough in the way of scorn, so he dares not let them pass his dry lips. Instead, he looks to Mackbry and questions the fatherly hare, Riala's voice not even registering. "Mackbry, my short rope has gotten the best of me once more. I owe you a thousand apologizes, good friend. Please tell me what I should do. I had come here while entertaining the thought of signing my name to join the quest. Now though, I feel I'd only bring misfortune...."

Suddenly, a nondescript brown-colored otter saunters in, her fur slightly damp from a recent swim someplace. She wears a green jerkin of cotton and loose-fitting forest green pant. At her side is a sabre, which is worn but well used, and on each of her arms is strapped a dagger. She gives a smile to Brooke, Kalen, and Moontouch, then says, "I be hearing bout a patrol here 'bouts. I be a'knowing plenty about these vermin and a decent hand with me sabre and daggers, and have a passin' knowledge of healing and the like. Do ye be needing an extra paw?" She pauses at the sound of unnerving silence, then, seeing the fox, a flicker of understanding passes across her face. She leans agains a wall and waits...

A sailor by birth Landin Mcgregor was indeed, preferring the open seas to any other method of travel. Despite this he drew his pride from being a creature with an open mind, an open mind for any and all new opportunities. This along with the lack of active purpose among the fleet division to which he pertained drove him to join the recently announced ‘Wayside Patrol’.

He padded along in a jovial state of mind, the rhythmic ‘pit pat’ of his steps seemingly growing louder as he approached the 4th platoon barracks. As he neared the doorway he tapped the floorboard lightly with the butt of his pike to announce his arrival and prevent intrusion.

“Received word o’ this ‘Wayside Patrol’…just wonderin…if…ur…”

The remainder of his inquisition trails off as the rock solid sense of a rather cold social atmosphere dawns upon his senses. Looking around nervously he bites his lip and continued. “Apologies if I caught yea at a bad time…”

A young red squirrel makes her way towards the party of assembled creatures. She is a rather young, yet well built squirrel, with a wise head on her shoulders. Her fur is the color of a rosy red with a bright silver stripe that stretches from her nose tip, between her ears and down her head. She moves swiftly, with the grace of her species, her paw toying with the golden dagger that she always wears around her waist. Her bright emerald eyes sparkle as she looks around, having heard bits and pieces of the conversations that were going around. She gives Brooke and Moontouch a slight smile as she sees them then makes her way over to where Riala stands. The squirrel flicks her tail and forms a circle within her paws, a sign of respectful greeting.

"My name is SilverRose Brighteye, first mate in the fleet division on the Northern Flyer. I heard that there was to be a patrol going out and I was wondering if you would grant me the honor of traveling with you and these fine creatures. I am skilled in archery and I am able to heal also if it be needed" She stands at a slight slant, her eyes looking about for a moment then returning to Riala. "If you wish to know, I have been on patrols before when I was in Southsward so I have had a little bit of experience." She smiles lightly, the way she always does when she meets someone new. The squirrel nods to the sign up parchment "Is it all right if I sign up?"

"A thousand apologies are hardly needed fer me t'understand, Rook m'boyo. Tis quite alright." Mack pats Rook's paw in a comforting way, a warm smile turning the corners of his lips as he answers the tough otter's question. "I think t’would be a very good thing for you t'come Rook, be a good thing fer more then jest one beast." The elderly hare glances briefly in Riala's direction; perhaps another solitary creature would soften the both of them up. "Besides, no tellin' what trouble we'll run into, we need beast who's strong with daggers as y'be."

Mack steps towards Kuja, another friendly smile on his face as he waved towards the fox's weapon where they lay on the ground. "An' you can still come too, ever'beast who wishes may. Pick yer weapons up, tis a bad habit to taunt other beasts." With a sigh, Mack smoothes the wrinkles from his cloak and tunic and marches smartly up to Riala, nodding briefly to Landin to acknowledge the march hare's presence. Saluting the warrior squirrel, the older hare waves a paw towards the others that had assembled. "Well Riala, I'd say anymore an' not be a patrol. We're at yer command, m'gel."

A small hooded figure glides in, approaching the assembly silently. It stops in front of Mackbry, giving the older hare a respectful nod. Then as the figure cranes her head to look the hare in the eyes, her black hood falls from her face, revealing her as an albino mouse. Though her tattered black cloak covers most of her attire, a sword hilt is clearly seen protruding from behind the heavy fabric. A red rose sits behind her ear, obscenely lovely against her ghostly white fur, and a crown of blue pearls rests upon her brow. With a grin, she nods to Mack and Rook, apparently in a good mood.

"Hello, you two. How do you fare?" she asks pleasantly, a confusing mood swing from her usual melancholy self. "I heard there was a patrol going out, and I thought I'd better join up."

Riala takes in a deep breath, then lets it out slowly as she watches Mackbry speak softly to the otter and the fox. As he walks up to her, she nods gratefully to him, not disguising her relief at his use of his ability to smooth down raised hackles. "My command?" she echoes wryly, her northern accent fading to its usual near-imperceptible level with the relaxing of her nerves. "You sure you don't want to lead instead?" It was a poor attempt at humor, trying to lessen the feeling of being overwhelmed at having to lead this already too-large group across the Northlands- but it was a stab at humor nonetheless, a rarity with the withdrawn squirrel.

She nods at his suggestion that the patrol was large enough; too large for a normal patrol, perhaps, but this one had to be larger than normal in order to set up the waystations. Perhaps they'd have to split into two groups later on; it would remain to be seen if that would happen. Riala glances over at the creatures that had come in and not yet signed up, then pitches her voice to carry across the platoon grounds. "Everybeast who hasn't yet, sign up over here," she says. "That'll be all the creatures we can take for this mission then."

Brooke notices that Rook had spit out blood from his mouth so her instincts kick in and she quickly runs to get a mug and then makes her way down to the nearest creek to scoop up some water. She comes back and purposely walks in front of Rook's starring pathway to Kuja, so that she could cut through the tension. Even though she knew that Rook would probably put up a fuss at what she was about to do she took a deep breath and continues on doing what she has made up her mind to. She reaches out and grabs his face with her paw.

“Ay ya' remember me don't cha'? Now open your mouth and let me see what ya' have done to yer self...over a little ol' fox no less. Now rinse yer mouth with this and spit.” As she hands him the mug, almost forcing him to take a gulp of it, she looks at him with her big emerald green eyes and she gives him one of her cheerful winks.

“Rook we need ya' on this mission, ya can't back out on us now. The loyality is good that ya' have fer yer family but ya' have ta' put that aside fer now. Many beasts 'r dependin' on ya', look at young Kalen over ther', we need yer help ta' protect us and the Fort too. If 'in you were along I am sure that we would all feel a lot safer.”

As she stands there waiting for him to rinse his mouth he bends over slightly to spew out the water mixed with blood and she gently places her paw on his back. “Now get over ther' and sign that parchment, stop all of this anger and get yer priorities in order, we're all fighten' fer the same cause.”

Though firmly directed, the concern and caring in Brooke's actions causes Rook to rethink his stand on her as he stands bent double, letting rose-tinted water drip from the fur of his muzzle. She is an ingenuous soul that walked amongst some of the toughest beasts he'd ever seen. And yet, Brooke keeps her head raised and the edge about her as keen as chipped flint. Rook has to give her some credit for that, if nothing else, though he is sure to learn more of the otter femme as time marched ahead.

"....thank you very much, Brooke....very considerate of you...."

She takes the bottom of her deep purple skirt and pulls it up to his face while he is still dripping the pinkish water off of the tip of his nose and she wipes off the excess. It leaves a spot of wetness on her skirt but she is not to concerned by this because there is a cool breeze blowing and it will dry soon enough. Leaning down to his ear she whispers. “Aye ya' 'r quite welcome sir, I'm glad that I could help ya'. If 'in ya' ever need me I'll be there fer ya', no need ta' think about asking me twice.”

Brooke was always able to keep a level head about her in times of tension and distress. Never was there a moment that she did not think things through before taking action. After all she figures that if you make a wrong move you will always make a situation worse instead of better but you can never make a situation worse by making a good move. The first beast usually there to help is Brooke no matter what the dangers are to herself, all she thinks about is the plight of others. Once you are her friend her loyalty will run deep within her, not even death could kill it.

Placing a ebony paw to his belt, he removes the dagger, and tests the keen point on his fleshy black paw pad. The milky white blade flashes in the sunlight creating a light pattern on the walls around him. He looks up pondering the sky, and the clouds, then back at his blade, an image flashing in the blade. Is it his imagination, or is it real?

Undecidedly the fox shakes his head wearily, not wanting to believe what he saw. He hastily stashes the dagger into his belt, and stands up. ...this is not the way any patrol should start. There is no proper order here with everybeast hating one another... Cleaning off his already ragged grey cloak, he turns from side to side to view each newcomer respectively, his mind now cleared of any distraction. His mouth remains closed and he speaks nothing.

Realizing that this ‘Riala’ was to be the commander of the patrol Landin is forced to seriously reconsider his participation in the mission. He knows good and well that a commander of great experience will be needed if the patrol was to be a success, and having no prior knowledge of the squirrel or her talents as a leader Landin feels rather uneasy about following under her command. Though he is also aware of his position among the other creatures, this being one ill suited for such an opinion, much less one for a proper suggestion.

Taking all of this into consideration he decides that he knows too little of the creature to judge her fairly and proceeds towards the enlistment sheet. With a swift glance over its contents he takes up the quill pen and signs the sheet in his rather scratchy writing.

Landin McGregor

Helmsbeast

Fleet Division, Wavearrow

Moontouch watches Brooke tend to Rook and watches Kuja for a moment. She may not have taking quite a liking to him at first, but she feels bad that she had been, in her eyes, rude and not quite nice. The black otter moves over to the fox and runs a paw through her headfur, introducing herself and not caring an ounce what others may think.

“I don't believe that I have introduced myself! I'm Vice Admiral Moontouch Icebrink of the Fleet Division. M'ship is the Northern Flyer. You're Kuja..?” The black otter tries to think of his last name, waving a paw at her own head, trying to recall it. She had a hard time with last names, obviously. “I'm sorry! I forgot your last name...” She gives the fox an apologetic smile.

Pearl was quiet for some time, embarrassed at her casual manner during such tensions. She stands a while by the roll sheet and Riala, and is soon accompanied by Mack as he moves over to Riala's way. "Howdy mate. Nice to see a, er, friendly face I know 'round here I suppose. Er, wha's goin' on? Fightin' already?"

The tall lean fox gently accepts Moontouch's paw. His eyes become their usually piercing pallor as he thinks. ...A warrior too, but she must think before doing anything foolish or harmful... His eyes close momentarily as he replies, the wind gracefully ruffling his red fur, and tugging his coak around his black foot paws.

He replies in his rolling native southern tongue. "Moontouch, a lovely name. You are one who is loyal, and will remain true to your friends. As you already know, I am Kuja. As for a last name, I have many. In the south I am Kuja Zann, in Mossflower, I am Kuja Rovingblood, and in the north, I am Kuja Redbrush." He lets the sleek black paws drop to his sides, and shrugs as he continues his word. "And the evil call me Kuja the Outcast." Having finished speaking, he lifts up the hood of his cloak, and peers back at Moontouch through the shadows that the sun made as it shone down on the burlap fabric.

Brooke finishes up giving aid to Rook as her emerald green eyes caromed off several beasts before they fell upon the lanky fox that calls himself Kuja. She observes his actions as Moontouch introduces herself. She was not one to judge beasts right away but because of the cryptic manner of Kuja's first presence, it caused her to be set on guard, and when he spoke to Kalen her maternal instincts began to soar. Although his behavioral attributes now seem to her to be more honorable and gentle, not posing as much of a threat as before.

Often she will position herself at a distance so as to watch the intensions of a beast that she is not familiar with, not ready to call them a friend until they have proven where their loyalties lie. True to her past she is cautious of the male gender, for reasons unbeknown to herself. But for the sake of the successfulness of the Trial Patrol she decides to put aside her personality flaws and present herself to him as one that is not an enemy.

Brushing off her now slightly moisten skirt she saunters over to Kuja. The gentle winds cause her feathery blonde bangs to descend in the way of her starring stance with the red fox, so as usual she lightly pushes them away. Thrusting out her paw to give him a secure shake she keeps eye contact with him at all times.

“I be Brooke Briar, First Mate of the Northern Flyer, ya' have already met me adopted son Kalen. Glad ta' have ya' along on our mission here. We always welcome another strong male. But don't be tryin' boss me around, I don't take kindly ta' orders from the male gender, especially from ones that I don't know so well yet.” Brooke gives him a little wink but the expression in her eyes tell him that she is not jesting about the remark that she just hurled from her mouth. Although she tries to leave him on a good note.

“Let's go on this mission united, immersing the enemy to the Dark Forest's Gates, if that be where they are headin’.”

"Well, you'll be takin' orders from whatever gender they be given from if the beast be of higher rank, m'gel," Mack says quietly at Brooke's comment to Kuja. However, he quickly shifts his attention back to Riala. "Rightyo commander marm, since y'don't seem t'be forward in going backwards, shall we allow this bally patrol t'commence? All be needed is a slight order on yer half, an' off we be, eh wot?"

Upon hearing what Mack has just said under his breath Brooke looks over at him and tries to set things straight, wishing what she said to not be taken wrong by the higher ranked males, and she gives him a smart salute. “Mack sir' me meant no harm ta' the higher ranks, I was just makin' me point ta' Kuja, since he seems ta' like ta' lord it over the smaller and younger beasts because of his age and size. Aye I admit that I have a hard time with the male gender but I be workin' on it real hard and I certainly wouldn't disobey an order from a beast such as yer'self.”

Riala shakes her head at Mackbry's question. "We don't leave for another two days. Everybeast needs time to pack whatever they need for the trip, and tools and supplies need to be packed. That'll take a bit of time." She glances over the gathered warriors with a whispered "excuse me" to Mack, and then walks over to the barracks deck, rapping her short stick weapon against the post for attention.

"If everybeast's signed up," the squirrel begins, her voice loud enough to carry to the perimeter of the platoon grounds, "then I'll brief you on the mission. I'm assuming you all read the notice, but I'll go over it again nonetheless. We're a trial patrol for a future patrol system. We'll be traveling a wide circuit across the Northlands, and we'll be setting up waystations for future patrols as we go. You'll need to pack your own food and bedrolls; we'll replenish food supplies on the way. You'll be provided with building tools for building the waystations - we all have to work on those to make them go up as quickly as possible. We're going to try to make the entire circuit within three weeks, although as we're larger than a typical patrol will be and we have to build waystations on the trail, it may take us longer."

"We'll be pairing up for the trip - we'll have two sentries per shift and pairs for foraging and scouting and the like. If there's somebeast you already work well with, write it down on the paper over there. The mission should go smoother if you're working with somebeast you know." The red-brown squirrel pauses, thinking. "That's about it. Meet back here at dawn two days from now. You'll get your tools and the sentry, cooking, foraging, and scouting lineup then. We'll want to get an early start, so don't be late or we'll have to leave without you." Another pause as her gold-brown eyes scan the crowd, taking silent note of each and every creature. "If you've any questions or requests in the meantime, talk to myself or Major General Teltoli Riverbuck. That's all for now. Dismissed."

Mack smiles at Brooke and promptly salutes her back. He reaches out to place a comforting paw on her shoulder to show he had meant no harm by his comment. "Tis alright, 'gel, I didn't mean in an offendin' way, wot! Simple statin' an ol' fact fer the books, 'sides yer of higher rank then Kuja, don't worry about him pushin' y'around. Now I suggest we all hit the bunks, m'buckos." Mack said as he raised his voice for the rest to hear him. "Twould be a good idea t'sleep well t'night and spend the next two days packin' an' sayin' g'bye to yer loved ones."

The fox readily accepts Brooke's soft warm paw. He looks back at her, he too keeps his eyes on her, but not warily, or coldly. The sun beams its elegant rays as it dips slowly into the horizon sending radiant beams of red, orange, and golden hues of pink. ...the day has gone too fast, the group it's self has bloomed, and grown. The otter before me is strong in heart, and cares for those who are younger...

"Hello Brooke, a pleasure to meet you. You need not worry about me ordering you or anybeast around. All of us are equal, and should be treated the same, except those who lead. They should be given respect, for in their paws, our lives lay. A commander can lead us to death, or to victory if only they know themselves and know their enemy."

The tall red fox turns and kneels before Raila. He whips out his dagger, the rippled blade glinting in the sun's last rays of light. He turns the hilt to the squirrel, and bows his head honorably placing the blade within her grasp. His eyes close momentarily as he spoke. "I am yours to command, while with you, my blade is yours upon my honor, and what little is left of my species."

Riala turned as she sensed movement behind her, noting Kuja with an idle curiosity. The sudden motion as he draws his dagger causes her to tense reflexively, one paw jerking almost spasmodically towards the thick, short stick in her belt. Old habits die hard, and she is too used to viewing foxes as vermin, as the enemy, to be totally at ease around one, even if she believes he's a goodbeast. The squirrel forces abruptly taut muscles to loosen, although the tension still tugs insistently at her scarred body.

As the fox holds out the hilt of his blade, she can't help but gape at him. This is a gesture entirely unfamiliar to her, completely alien, even awkward... but she senses that it would be an insult to refuse. One scarred, red-brown paw reaches out to belatedly grasp the hilt, confusion and a hint of trepidation showing as shadows in her gold-brown eyes. His words seem to reach out in and of theirselves and push Riala's head from side to side in an almost violent headshake. "I can't- you shouldn't- you don't even know if-" She stops, biting off any further failed sentences, and takes a deep breath. She doesn't deserve to command, even though the role has been forced upon her; she doesn't deserve allegience of any sort. She hasn't earned it, she hasn't shown she's capable of keeping it... she's an inexperienced leader who doesn't even want the position. But she realizes again that it would be an insult not to accept. "Thank you," the squirrel says finally, forcing any uncertainty away from her rough voice. Her rust-gold tail flicks to the side in agitation and she clamps down on the surprise and awkwardness caused by the fox's words and actions.

The sun rides slightly to the west, casting its fiery glow down upon the figure of a lone hare making his way towards his barracks. His bright eyes flick to and fro, scanning the unusually large group of beasts in front of his home. Drawing in a quick breath the hare mutters to himself in low tones, “Well now, look at this group would yah... navah seen so many beasts in the platoon four grounds afore. Well Riverbuck, yah best git ovah there an make yerself known in one way er' another wot!”

The hare strides closer, his shadow casting out across the dusty grounds in front of him. Unconsciously he runs his paws over his jerkin, straitening out the fabric, and placing a paw to each of the two axes at his sides. Twitching his whiskers in a quick sniff, he reaches up and presses the rough blue beret resting on his headfur forward, giving him a rather official look. Usually Major General Teltoli Rifflapin Riverbuck was easy going and jovial but he had already sensed the air of uneasiness brewing about in the many beasts standing next to the barracks porch, and knows that this situation called for serious behavior. Twiching his ears, Tel steps out smartly, making his way through the beasts and stopping in front of Riala.

Tel sees the expressions Riala wore as he walks towards her. He knows some of the squirrel's moods, having talked with her on a number of occasions, he knows right away that something is wrong within the group. Tel decides it would be best to speak with Riala in private about what was going on. Not wishing to be impolite to the beasts standing about, the hare makes a quick nod towards them, and turns back to Riala. Speaking in a hushed tone, the hare motions towards the door of the barracks.

“Riala, looks like a bally platoon full o beasts have shown up fer the mission wot...” Giving the squirrel a quick smile the hare continues, “Would yah mind if I had a private word with yah inside?”

Riala nods to Teltoli and follows him into the barracks, somewhat curious as to what the hare has to say. Holding open the door, Tel allows the squirrel to make her way inside. The barracks are warm and a bit stuffy after being closed up for most of the day. Tel decides it best to keep the windows and door closed though, not wishing the other beasts to hear the conversation. Light shafts strike through the thick windowpanes, reflecting the glitter of myriads of tiny dust motes swirling about. Tel nods to Riala, a sign of respect, and begins to speak. He tries to be to the point, but still sound friendly.

”I think I'll make this brief an' to the point marm. I have two questions fer yah wot. First off, I was wondering whot me rank is in this mission. I figured since we came up with it togetha, I would be just under you in the rankin’. Is this correct? If it is not, I mean no disrespect to yah in any way wot! Jest say the word an' I'll be there. “ Tel smiles briefly, hoping to not make the situation too tense.

Riala nods with a slight and rueful smile. "Aye, just under myself, if not alongside... you've really the more experience, and you're one of the few coming along that's in this platoon."

“Secondly, have you decided upon how this mission will be set up, as far as ranks, jobs, groups and the like?”

The squirrel shrugs, a minute motion that's barely noticeable in the dimming light inside the barracks. "I have some idea of what it'd be like, as you may have heard me say outside. I think we may have to split into two groups later down the trail, but that may or may not be necessary. We'd rotate duties such as standing sentry, cooking, scouting, and the like. I was planning to write those out tonight, and I'd appreciate your help - you probably know more of the creatures in the group than I." She pauses, gold-brown eyes darkening as she thinks on the subject. "I was thinking we could split into four groups for building the waystations and for other tasks, if needed. I'll show you my notes in a little while..."

It seems to me this group is too large, an’ frankly... I've heard tell that that otter would outright kill the fox if he got the chance...” Tel had heard tell of Rook and Kuja, knowing full well what might happen if the two were left alone together.

Riala grimaces, a twist of the mouth that pulls the scarred fur of her face in odd directions, the uneven light of the setting sun turning her features into a demon's mask. "Aye. When first the otter sighted the fox, he looked as if he were going to kill him on the spot. 'Tis like myself and wolverines." The last sentence was added in a quiet tone, a shade of uncertainty coloring the rough voice. If she acted like the otter did... it wasn't something she was proud of. But it wasn't something she could let go of, either... she'd never met a wolverine she could trust, and even if she did, she didn't think she'd ever be able to tolerate its presence. Foxes were one thing; she'd hated all vermin once, but had met vulpines that had become comrades, if not friends. But wolverines... She shakes her head violently as if that would clear her mind of the wandering, shadowed thoughts, locking the uncomfortably mixed emotions away inside her as always. Too much to do now to be preoccupied with thoughts such as those...

He nodded to Riala again before finishing his piece. “Jest know, that, I'm not trying teh usurp yer authority in this matter, I trust yah as a leader wot! If yeh need help though...I've been on missions many times afore an would be more than happy tah help yah if yah would like wot. “ The hare stands still, waiting for the squirrel to respond.

A slight smile tugs at the corners of the squirrel's mouth at the hare's words. "Tel, I never asked for this position. I'm inexperienced at leadership and inexperienced with people. I'm a loner still, for all that I've gone on missions with more than one creature for the past several missions I've done. I don't have a hare's gift with otherbeasts." Her voice is flat, her words matter-of-fact and coolly honest as she speaks. "I need all the help I can get."

Tel nods quietly as Riala speaks. He listens intently to her words, twitching his ears every so often. As she finishes the hare gives back a slight smile. He was not quite sure how Riala had been feeling about being the leader of this mission, but had had an idea. Although Riala seemed skeptical about her role as a leader, Tel knew from experience the value of such a position to a beast's life. He had learned much from his past ventures and felt willing to support his friend in any way she wanted.

“Righto Riala! I'll be right by yer side if yah need me there...or whever else you want me. Jest say the word an Tel's there wot!” Suddenly Tel smiles heartily. Resting his paws on his twin paw axes and speaks almost jovially, his eyes sparkling brightly. “Alrighty, this mission should be fun...if we keep the right attitudes wot! Jest got t’make sure we pair the right beasts up with each otha!”

Riala's mouth thins into a grimly amused line that could scarcely be called a smile, listening to the hare's words. She picks up a much-handled scroll with her jagged, rushed, untidy printing scrawled across it in heavy black ink. "Here's what I've figured out so far..." she says, adding a few notations with a nibbled-upon quill pen as she speaks. "I have some idea as to who should be paired with whom, but I'm hoping you know everybeast on the list better than I. If you've any ideas..." The squirrel trails off, handing the scroll to Teltoli.

A/N: The thread ended here, as there were no further posts by any roleplayers. It continues in a second roleplaying thread two in-character days later.