08:15 PM

Beach

Soft sand cushions you as you walk.  To the south a lone mountain stands at attention, guarding the seashore.  Curls of smoke grace the sky as they escape from the top of the looming mountain.  The sight is breathtaking to anybeast.  To the west the sand meets the glassy sea.

Exits: [T]o the [N]orthwest [F]ace of the [M]ountain, [Sh]allows, [C]ontinue [U]pshore, [G]o [D]ownshore

Martyn sits on a rock, looking out at the sea. He wears a slight smile on his face, and twirls a feather about in his paw, sometimes blinking at it, and other times returning his gaze to the waves. In the other paw, as can be expected of him, he holds a half eaten sandwich.

Jarril pads slightly outside, if not to get away from the bare dormitory of his.  His ears flap about slightly in the breeze coming over from the lack of shelter, making his loose pants ripple about, making a slight noise.  Spotting the other hare from a distance, he stops momentarily, gives a shrug and makes his way over to the other hare.

Martyn glances up, and turns on his rock, to look at Jarril. He takes a bite out of his sandwich, and waves a paw, using the other to toss the feather lightly into the water. An ear twitches, and then flops sideways in the breeze. He looks at eaze, and still wears a slight smile.

Jarril arrives nearby and stops, looking about and staring out to the sea for a moment as he fixes some of his fur being blown out of place.  "Hello."  His voice sounds northern as his nose twitches, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.  "Must have had the same idea of coming out on a fine day like this, eh wot?"

Martyn grins, and takes another bite from the sandwich. "Aye. Great day t' sit 'round an' do absolutely nothin', doncha know." He pauses to chew his food. "Dormitories' gettin' just a bit cramped, wot, so I got out here. Fine day, maybe I'll make a raft."

Jarril chuckles slightly, fixing his fur again on top of his head from the wind.  "Aye, well, I had the same bally thought ta be honest and I haven't been here that long."  He pauses and looks at the other hare.  "Is it always tough for a new recruit around here?"  Going silent again and not mentioning about anything, besides word gets about the mountain quicker than saying, vittles free for all.

Martyn laughs, and waves at  a pile of driftwood. "No, it's not always hard, y'know." He pauses. "I wouldn't mind some bally 'elp, buildin' the raft, wot." He picks up a plate from the ground. It is covered rather thickly with bisuits. "An' I'll prob'ly like some help, eaten this, doncha know."

Jarril takes a look at the driftwood and smiles.  "I could help, if I knew about raft building."  He pauses and continues as if he was thinking on something.  "Isn't there a otter I saw mingling about about here and there.  Don't know the flipping name, though."  He stares in bewilderment and laughs.  "That's a first.  A fellow hare offering food, twice t'day in fact.  Don't mind if I do, wot."  Taking one quickly before you change your mind and nibbles on it, letting some crumbs drop to the sand.  "Where would ya use the raft for anyways?  Fishing?"  Taking a look at the other hare and smiles, offering a free paw that isn't holding the cookie.  "Oh, my name's Jarril Fleetpaw.  Glad ta make ya acquaintance."

Martyn laughs, and takes the other hare paw. "I'm Martyn, son of Martyn, son of Martyn, Son of bally flippin' Martyn." he pauses, and shakes the other hares paw. "When my family found somethin' they liked, they kept it, doncha know. About th' raft, I just tie some bally strings together, and go fishin'. Rather large fish out there." He waves a paw vaguely at the ocean.

Jarril laughs at the explanation of the name's history and looks out to sea, releasing his paw and placing it back to his side for a moment and then pointing out there.  "And let me guess.  Ya have a brillient well thought out plan in catching it, cooking it and then scoffing it all ta yaself."  He smirks a bit more, letting his whiskers twitch somewhat.  "Really good tiptop spiffy plan, wot!"

Martyn grins, and nods. "Right, I was gonna catch a spiffin' huge fishy, cook it, prob'ly burn it to a bally crisp, an' eat it, all by m'self, wot wot!" He pauses. "But I could use a bit o' help with that, doncha know, it's gonna be hard t' catch a big fish with no help." He pauses, and points at net. "Took me two days t' make that. I'd prob'ly just lose the bally ole thing without help. What d' y'say? Half a fish for both of us, or more if we're jolly lucky, doncha know."

Jarril takes a deep breath in and smiles.  "Well, talking about it and wasting good old hot air ain't gonna get the scoff in, ain't it, wot."  He makes for a quick walk towards the driftwood, turning his head back.  "Sooner we get this thing made, the sooner we can go out and catch the rascal, before any other hares catch on and want a bite."  He smirks, as he bends down and picks one end to a piece of driftwood.

Martyn chuckles, and pulls a ball of twine from his pocket. "Quite right, y'know." He walks over, and takes out his belt knife, placing the twine on the ground. "How 'bout you take the twine, and tie the logs together, an I'll cut th' bally branches off of the'se ole logs, doncha know." He tosses the twince toward Jarril.

Jarril reaches out and catches the twine in his paws and nods, looking about, before kneeling down, taking two of the logs that had the branches already cut off and begins to tie up at one end.  "So, how long have ya been at the mountain?"  Wrapping some of the twine about and cutting it with his own knife and tying it tightly.

Martyn looks at the sea thoughtfully, while stripping twigs off of a large log. "I've not really counted, doncha know, but I think I've been here for a few months, wot wot." He finishes that log, and drages it over to Jarril. "Long enough that I've gotten bored sittin' around inside." He walks back over to the pile of driftwood. "Bally good food, doncha know."

Jarril nods as he takes the other log and begins to continue to tie them up with the twine.  "Aye and they're pretty well good at fwapping poor innocent tails with rolling pins as well, wot!"  He laughs.  "Mind ya, I should've seen that one coming this morning."  He smirks.  "Ya wouldn't guess what I did after that.  Called Major Bobbie, sah.  Wanted the bally ground ta open up and swallow me right there and then."  He stops tying up the log and smiles.  "Good job she had a good sense of humour though, wot."

Martyn laughs, and rips the las branch from the log he currently works on. "Aye, good thing, she does." He takes it over to Jarril, and eyes the growing raft. "I've had a few things happen t' me, too, doncha know. Y'need a good since'f humor t' live in a bally ole mountain whose sole purpose is to protect the rest of the land from searats, filled entirely with hares, all'f whome 'ave huge appetites. Otherwise, the cooks would always be cryin', nocha know."

Jarril nods his head.  "I am learning bally well fast.  Won't be making the same mistakes again, I can assure ya."  He pulls on the twine, tightning one part and begins to roll the other one into place, from one end and then the other.  "Glad I ain't a cook.  Couldn't cope in fighting corsairs as well as hungry hares."  Smirking.  "I'd go completely barmy within a season, wot."  He gets up and stretches, looking about again and letting the wind blow through his fur.  "But I think we could finish this off whenever.  No point in rushing plans, wot."

Martyn nods, and flips a biscuit into his mouth. "Right. No since workin' too bally hard for Our tucker, doncha know." He laughs. "It's a bad thing, t' get to tired gettin' ready to eat." He winks. "Then we'd be a bit too tired to eat, doncha know." He cuts the last branch off the last log, and drags it over. "We'll finish this later on, wot wot."

Jarril looks about and chuckles.  "Aye, there is that.  But best ta not arouse any other hares on our plan or less fish for us both."  He turns around and goes back to the mountain again, turning his head part way.  "Nice meeting ya, Martyn.  See ya later perhaps."  With that, he makes a short run back to the mountain.

Martyn grins, and waves at him. "Later, then." He settles back down on his rock, andf closes his eyes.