|
|
Post by kamylienne on Aug 1, 2003 21:52:48 GMT -5
((Shall we create a new thread, since we're out of the tent?))
::Kamy looks around and spots what she had been hoping for; she points farther down the field, farther away from the camp; familiar, ripe, ruby-red fruits are flourishing just beyond the blueberries. Perfect. She shouts to the girls: :: "Oh, look! Strawberries!" ::claps her paws excitedly:: "Should we get some of those, too? Then we can make blueberry AND strawberry scones! Wouldn't that be lovely?" ::She laughs as she leads the girls farther from the camp, hoping to get them as far away as possible from the camp before proceeding with her plan; just so long as she's far from earshot of everyone but the girls::
|
|
|
|
Post by duckflesh on Aug 1, 2003 23:10:13 GMT -5
((Let's move to the main rpg, I'll make a thread there.))
|
|
|
|
Post by kamylienne on Aug 3, 2003 21:17:12 GMT -5
::Covered in flour, blueberry and strawberry stains, Kamy stumbles into the tent and plops down onto the bed, exhaused from making about ten dozen scones . . . oh, but they're good . . . . with the girls. She's so tired that she can't even find the energy to close her eyes--she just stares straight up to the top of the tent blankly. With the girls' help and the help of a friend's recipie, the scones were made without incident (Kamy isn't a great cook), and are just lovely. But, for now, she thinks that she can just lay here for a while and let her aching paws rest a moment::
|
|
|
|
Post by kamylienne on Aug 8, 2003 19:55:14 GMT -5
::She wakes the next morning, hardly realizing she's been asleep::
|
|
|
|
Post by duckflesh on Aug 9, 2003 14:31:51 GMT -5
**When Kamy emerges from the tent, she'll see thirty some horde beasts around the camp, covered in scratches and wounds, sleeping soundly on the dirt having been too exhausted to get to their tents. Duckflesh looks to have attempted to sit by the fire, but has fallen back off the log and gone into a doze, and even his two Monior guards, though still awake, are starting to nod off**
|
|
|
|
Post by kamylienne on Aug 9, 2003 15:59:43 GMT -5
::Appalled at the sight, she steps gently over some battle-worn beasts who carpet the ground. With great will, she somehow manages to pull Duckflesh into the Children's Tent (a great feat for a small mousemaid!) to rest near the squirrelmaids who love him so dearly. She pulls him onto the bed she used, pulls a blanket over him, and plops against the side of the bed, sitting on the floor, to catch her breath before examining his wounds::
|
|
|
|
Post by duckflesh on Aug 9, 2003 18:22:46 GMT -5
**None of the horde is hurt too badly, mostly just cuts and scratches from thornbushes, though almost every one has a few wounds from sling stones and a handfull have arrow wounds. Those few have already been taken into the sick tent. Duckflesh stirs slightly in his sleep, and the monitors look at Kamy slightly warily and fall asleep themselves, one of them giving her a suprising grin before he does so.**
|
|
|
|
Post by kamylienne on Aug 9, 2003 18:52:18 GMT -5
::After catching her breath, she gets up and finds herself a crude bucket made from a walnut shell and a sponge, along with a few medicinal herbs (with antibiotic properties); she tries to clean up Duck's face and arms as much as she can without disturbing him too much, and before the girls can wake up. 'They'd be devastated to see him like this . . . it's all I can do,' she thought, squeezing the sponge into the shell. Brownish-red water flows from the sponge, mostly dirt, some blood. She'll have to wait until later to find out what happened. She pauses for a moment; she wonders if she's helping out the right beast. 'What if I'm trying to heal the bad guy?' she wonders, her stomach tightening up into a knot. Nevertheless, bad or no, this beast needed help; she finishes cleaning him up to the best of her ability::
|
|
|
|
Post by duckflesh on Aug 9, 2003 19:28:07 GMT -5
**Gavrilla wakes up, and yawns**
Wanna glass of water...
**The lizard nearest to her stands, yawning himself, and picks her up, carying her under his arm like a barrel as he takes her to the well while she giggles and squirms. Meanwhile, Duckflesh is talking slightly in his sleep, pulling on his sheathed sword**
Mhm... no... stay 'way...
|
|
|
|
Post by kamylienne on Aug 9, 2003 19:51:34 GMT -5
::Her heart jumps, worried for the girls; not wanting an accidental squirrel-(or mouse)-ka-bob, she quickly steps behind Duck's form, gently holds down his paw holding the sword until his grip loosens; she eases the sword from his paw, loosens the belt, and pulls the belt, sheath and sword from Duck; she places it by her staff, away from the girls' reach:: ::whispering quietly:: "Hey, calm down . . . it's alright . . . . "
|
|
|
|
Post by duckflesh on Aug 9, 2003 20:35:10 GMT -5
**The monitor returns, Gavrilla wrapped firmly in his tail this time. Giving Kamy a tired/bored look, he "hands" the little squirrel to her, obviously wanting to get back to sleep**
|
|
|
|
Post by kamylienne on Aug 10, 2003 10:47:25 GMT -5
::Nodding to the guard, she accepts the cute bundle of fur and tucks her into bed again. Determined to find out what happened, she takes her staff as a walking stick and starts off to find Hack::
|
|
|
|
Post by duckflesh on Aug 30, 2003 11:30:43 GMT -5
**Duckflesh walks into the tent and shuts the flap behind him**
Girls. It's time for you to go to the abbey.
**The girls solemnly get up and get dressed, grabbing their stuffed animals and lining up in front of him**
Good luck. No harm will come ot you, the Redwallers will be too stupid to do any. I... uhm, lo...
well, just be careful.
**the three girls throw little salutes in tandem, grinning at him**
Yes sir, Uncle Ducky!
**They head out of the tent, where a rat begins leading them to the woods**
|
|
|
|
Post by duckflesh on Aug 30, 2003 18:13:50 GMT -5
**Duckflesh watches them go, then a ferret taps him on the shoulder and whispers something to him. Sighing, the horde leader heads back towards his tent**
|
|
|
|
Post by kamylienne on Aug 31, 2003 18:00:37 GMT -5
::She returns to the tent, noticing that it's unusually quiet. 'The girls . . . where are they?' she worries. 'Their dolls . . . they're gone, too . . . what . . . . ?' She rushes out of the tent, hurriedly looking for the next guard or anyone she sees . . . : :: "The girls . . . where are the girls?"
|
|
