08:56 PM
 

Western Shore
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The shore here runs both north and south. At this section of shore, though, a wide river mouth runs into the sea, creating a churning current, which may seem hard to cross to most beasts. Fortunately, though, a narrow bridge has been built to cross these 'rapids' of sorts. The churning sound, too, may seem even a bit ominous to most, keeping beasts on one side or the other of this river mouth. If you look out over the sea, though, you'd notice the rapid churning of the waters colliding calms down not too far out, allowing small sailing vessels or row-powered canoes or longboats free access to the river.
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Exits: [R]iver [M]oss, [D]ownshore, [U]pshore

After the long hours of the day, the patrol kept on with their watch of the cave behind the various rocks about the beach.  Slowly as the shadows begin to get longer, Jarril rolls a dry yellow grass stalk about in his mouth as he slowly peeks around the rock as he hears something in the distance.  "Hmmm, sounds like someone is bally coming at last."  Moving his head back around again.  "Okay, someone get me Humbert, but no attacking until I give the order.  I kick anyone out who doesn't follow that one."  Looking at a officer before peeking around again to where the cave is visible as a few small dots are in the distance, heading their way.

Darklett's head peeks out from behind a rock as soon as he spots Jarril getting all excited, and moving, and all that. He squints into the distance and sees the dots, glad this can finally be over with. He yawns tiredly, poking his head back behind the rock, which is just barely large enough to conceal him. His mind goes through a couple thoughts, none of which stick out, just the usual "everything that could possibly go wrong" ordeal, and the ever-present "maybe I can impress somebeast more important than myself" is lost somewhere in there, too.

Humbert crawls slowly up to the top of the dune where the current lookout is posted. He gets to the top and peeks over, before having his head firmly pushed down into the sand by the scout at the top. "Get down you silly beggar" whispers the scout angrilly, "They're lookin' right at us" he says firmly, before shifting backwards to allow the lieutenant to crawl up to peek over at the couple of verminous types loitering outside the cave, waiting for the rest of the gang to return. He jumps as someone tugs on his leg and crawls back down, informed of the Major's summons. He nods, whispers for them to keep up their vigil (as if they needed telling) and, once far enough down to be out of view, trots over to the Major, saluting sharply.

Jarril looks at Humbert while speaking in a hushed tone.  "Right."  Pulling out the straw from his mouth.  "I don't have time for your usual behaviour so I won't be around ta fix if ya get into trouble.  Stay here with a few officer and wait until I get into position.  I want ta make sure that they are all there before we move.  Once we know there aren't anymore we attack.  I don't want any stagglers ta come and spot us before running off."  The major pauses.  "Oh and try and keep one of them alive, wot.  I want ta make sure there aren't many more of the bally blighters in this country.  However you're in command of ya hares."  The major looks at Humbert closely with one of those looks.  "Try not ta lose any of them, but if it happens, don't pause.  Just continue with ya job at paw."  Without saying another word, the major points at a few hares and slowly makes his way off with them as he carefully moves around the dune.

Northpaw stands slightly, and off to the right of Jarril. His long bow is in ppaw, and a arrow is notched to the bowstring. He peers off into the fog, (:P) at the aprotching creatures. He looks over to Darklett, after straining his eyes, and looks over to Jarril. "Who do you think they are, Jarril...sah?". He looks back off into the distance, and licks his lips, his eyes narrowing. "Vermin?".

One tall, well muscled searat, licked at his sword as he laughed, while making his way back, guzzling at some bottle.  "'ey, now that was fun.  Did y' see them run and cry out like poor little babes, mateys?  I tell y', there's nothing like poor rabbits t' terrorise.  So what else did y' scum get from them?"  A weasel opened his pouch and smiled.  "Few bits and pieces.  Mind y', that otter did have a nice sword.  Hey!"  The large rat taking the sword from the weasel, inspecting it.  "Hmm, I like.  I'll keep this, call it payment for y' not catching any food yesterday."

Darklett peers over the edge of the rock at the approaching vermin... He spots Jarril moving around, knowing it's about to happen. Hoo, nerves. He rubs his paws together to get rid of some of the moisture. Can't have any of that setting his throwing off. He grips one paw around the hilt of one of his missile weapons, squinting out to try and get a look of the vermin as they approach, going through every possibility in his mind of what could happen... Just an ambush. In and out, nothing to fear. Nerves. He slips back from behind the rock, and awaits his orders.

Jarril slowly makes it up to where the scout is and lying on his front, he peers over the top fo the sand dune, muttering quietly to the scout beside him.  "Hmmm, quite the ugly chap, ain't he?  Mind ya.  What's a searat doing about on these shores."  Moving to the side slightly, the major takes out his sword and lays it down beside him.

Humbert blusters slightly at the obvious slight to his honour coming from his commanding officer. He nods and stammers but doesn't get a word out before the major walks away. He scowls at the majors back then, seeing him turn slightly jumps and turns to do his job, obviously now more than a little fearful for retaining his rank. He turns to the remaining hares, all looking at him dubiously. "As the major said, I'm in command of you lot and I plan to go far. If I want t'go far then I've got to keep you lot from running off scared" he says with a growl, raising a patronising eyebrow as he surveys the crowd. "Well then, defensive ring around the supplies if anyone spots someone coming our way, archers in the gaps if any of yer take that role" he says, trying to sound competant.

Northpaw walks slowly towards Darklett, keeping a eye on the horizon. He looks over at Darklett when he reaches him. "Nervous Dark?". He puts his bow down and wipes his clammy paws on his Tunic. He picks up his bow again, and looks at Jarril, and then at Humbert. He thinks about being Lt, it would be nice if he copuld, but he wouldn't want Humbert to die, just so he could be a Lt. He look back at Darklett, and at his dagger. Daggers are much shorter range than bows.

Darklett lets go of his throwing knife when Northpaw approaches him, a gulp passing through his throat as he offers a calm(looking) shrug. "Eh. Who wouldn't be? You never know when one of those things might just pop up behind you and slit your throat..." He eyes the bow that Northpaw carries. "Ha. Archer duty. You'll be safe, I bet... Just don't shoot me in the back, alright?" He winks at Northpaw, the chuckles that follow letting out at least a little of his nervousness, as he peeks out from behind the rock to see how close they are. Come on, give the order already...

Turnip, a rather old and wisened looking creature, stumbled along behind the gang of vermin, pulling a small rabbit dibbun behind him and voicing various threats. "Ooh yes, a nice little toy t'play with" he says through old and rotting teeth, capering along and almost swinging the little rabbit as he does so. "Lucky me, lucky me. Four feet for me charms" he sings. His other gnarled and bony arm grasps a long staff which he uses to vault himself forwards in his caper, cackling slightly oddly as he catches up with the gang of creatures in front of him, each with their own trophy from the raid, tho none as obvious as the stuggling child.

Thorntail turns on Turnip and hisses through his yellow rat teeth.  "Can't y' shut up that little runt.  Looking at the rabbit dibbun, he swung the sword he took from the weasel before.  "Lissen t' me, y' wimp.  We make a good slave out of y' yet.  Nothing for y' mother t' say on the matter since she's dead."  Looking at Turnip again, the searat hissed.  "But keep that one quiet."  Coming to where the others are, he looks about.  "No sign of a ship, mateys.  Pity, well.  how's the grog making going?"  Getting a reply from another rat, Thorntail roared.  "Well, try better.  we didn't steal that grog making stuff without making grog, now did we?!"  The rat kicking out at the other rat and sending it backwards.  Turning to Turnip.  "Get that thing inside the cave.  Make it cook our dinner."

Jarril blinks and mutters.  "Bally rotters."  The major turning around to the scout and shaking his head.  "Go send word ta the rest of the patrol.  Tell them ta wait for my signal.  I have ta insure that little one will be okay, they kill them the second we fell one of them.  Listen, I am going ta go meet them, alone.  Send them off their gaurd, wot.  When I give the signal.  Get one of the stronger hares ta throw me a sword."  Slowly taking off his uniform, the major turns it inside out and mutters.  "Flipping sea vermin.  Always have ta take more than just stuff but lives."  Rolling about, the major heads off further down the sand dune, clearly in one foul mood.

Northpaw looks ands sees that the rats and such are getting closer. He brings up his bow, and pulls back the arrow, making the string taut. He sights along the rrow, aiming at the general derection of the vermin. He takes deep breaths, and looks back making sure he has his sabres. He looks back waiting for the order. Looking at Humbert he says, "When is it?". He scowls, not nervous like Darklett, but nervous enough.

Terrence, normally an eccentric, lively young buck, looks down at his sling paw, which is trembling ever so slightly. Clearing his throat, he clamps his other paw over his wrist and mutters to himself. "Now, now, T, don't be gettin' nervous on your first time out.." The young hare takes a moment to glance at his neighbours, feeling rather uncomfortable, shouldered between two rather bulky-looking veterans. Having accidentally been caught staring at one of them, he returns his gaze to the horizon, and resisting the urge to hum to himself as he awaits orders.

Darklett shakes his head, looking back over the rock at the approaching vermin. "A kid... Great." He turns to Northpaw. "Bet you my uniform that I screw this up and the kid ends up getting killed. Bet you." He turns back to watch the vermin, both his paws now occupied with the hilts of his throwing knives... One paw can be seen nervously tapping on the sand. "...I'm not nervous. Just jittery, I guess."

looks positively offended at the thought his trophy would be cooking, "Ooooh he's too small to cook... well... not to /cook/... I think I've got a pot big enough" he says with a shrill cackle that sets the dibbun off again. He hefts it up, showing a strength in his gnarled bones that might not have been noticed otherwise. He lets the small rabbit twist and struggle in his grip before its small eyes lock with his. He smiles widely and makes a show of licking his withered lips, "Don't know how yer gonna cook once I've lopped off those paws t'make me the luckiest b'stard around." He capers up to the cave's rudimentary door and shoves it open with his staff, flinging his trophy before him and dancing in after, singing a rather creepy ditty that echoes outwards, getting quieter as he moves further inwards.

Coming up behind the group was another vermin, this time a ferret by the name of Hooktail. The lanky pirate smiled, his teeth glinting with dull gold. "Harr. Nice catch, all o' this... thanks to that rat wid long ears, mayhaps I wont have'ter put up th'sails." He says with a cackle, aiming a kick at the rabbit dibbun. His own paws were full up of a box of bottles. "Lookit 'ere... all sorts o' whiskey." He snarls happily, peering down. "That green bottle... that smells stronger than you, Turnip." Hooktail says with a slap of his right paw to the box.

Jarril gives a slight cough and then calls out.  "Ahoy mateys!  Mind if a poor fellow seafaring beast joins y' ranks!"  The hare slowly pops up his head over the sand dune and begins to make his way down, giving off a hobble as though his right leg is hurt.  Looking at the vermin who are watching him with their weapons drawn, the hare slowly makes his way up to the big searat and coughs.  "Please, my ship and crew were killed by a big fearful monster in the mountain.  Tis terrible tis was."  Sitting down on the sand, the hare shook his head and slowly fixed the eye patch on his head.  "I come t' warn y' mateys.  Any grog going t' parch my dry throat?"

Darklett blinks in disbelief as Jarril walks out in the middle of the open. His jaw hangs slightly open, and he can't help but mutter to himself, "He's gonna die, he's gonna die, he's gonna die, he's gonna die..." over and over again. He grits his teeth together, finally shutting up, and taking a grasp around those two throwing knives again, biting his lip.

Buckthorn steps up next to Dark, his eyes turning down at the sand. "Hush." He says simply, his long ears folding back as to not go above the dune he is currently crouching behind. "Ole Jarr knows exactly wot he's bally doing, mate." Buckthorn says with a curt nod, his own paws going around his weapons of choice - a nice rapier. The large buck breaths in, a paw patting at the healing supplies slung in his belt.

Darklett jumps, and turns to Buck. "A...h! When did you get here?" He sighs, waiting for the signal impatiently. "Guess you're on healing duty, then?" He eyes the rapier. "Or are you going in with the fighters, too?" He whispers now, much too worried to break the patrol's cover to take chances.

Terrence stares at Jarril, transfixed. "But..he..just..I.." he trails off, eyes still fixed on the scene, having forgotten all previous anxiety. He grinds his teeth together, drumming his paw on his arm, anticipating Jarril's next move. Wouldn't catch him just walking into the midst of a load of searats, tell you that..

Thorntail frowns and looks about.  "Well, lookat what has walked right into our paws."  The rat looking about, while moving his sword to a inch away from the hare's nose.  "Y' must be crazy for a woodlander t' come and walk right into us?  So what y' got then?"  Jarril smiles meekly.  "What's that y' say, messmate.  I never heard of that before.  Woodlander?  What that mean?"  Scratching his head, the hare mulls over the word.  "I've travelled a lot in my ship but never heard of woodlander before."  Stopping the hare nods his head.  "Sorry, I sailed from far away."  The hare's paw moves out to sea.  "We thought it was a good place t' land and take what we wanted since our supplies were low.  I lost so many good crewmembers.  And my poor ship, the Bloodclurder."  The hare shakes his head and weeps softly, before looking up again.  "Please, there's a really big and nasty thing in these lands.  It tore my ship apart, killed my crew.  I barely escaped with my life, matey."

The ferret stepped forward, snarling at the beast. "'Course your can join our ranks... hope y'like swabbing the decks!" He says with a cackle, his laugh causing the contents of his box to clink and rattle. "C'mon mates... too old fer eating.... all stringy." He says with a growl of laughter. "Anudder right slave, hmm?" The ferret suggests, nudging a rat next to him. "Oh aye, Hooktail... nice good slave." The rat agreed with a snicker. Hooktail starts forward, a long dagger sliding from his belt. He quickly shoves the box into the paws of the rat and moves to Jarril.

Northpaw looks over to Buckthorn and Darklett. He half-smiles and looks back at the major. "He knows what hes doing Darklett, he won't die.". He looks at Jarril harder, waiting for the signal. He watches the vermin coming towards them, and hopes they'll come faster.

Darklett clenches his fist, glancing at Buckthorn, then to Jarril, peering over the rock. Signal? Come -on- Jarril, give the signal. This is the part where you give us the -SIGNAL.- Darklett peers intently on the major, his paws showing white knuckles through his dark fur as he clenches around the hilts of two throwing knives.

Turnip peers out of the cavemouth with a quite wicked grin on his features and quite a lot of blood on one arm. He waves a small white object about with glee. "I got me a lucky rabbit's paw! Gonna get m'self three more once the little runt's finished with the cookin!" he crows before going quiet and staring suspiciously at the hare-cum-pirate. "Oooh another rabbit! A big 'un with big lucky feet!" he says, grinning and bearing his blacked teeth again. "Lucky me, lucky me" he sings as he turns and retreats back into the cave, still echoing with the pained cries of the small rabbit.

Jarril suddenly stops and gets up onto his feet.  Cool as a cumcumber, the hare slowly dusts off his shoulders and coughs, his only eye staring right at the bunch of vermin.  "There's one more thing I should warn y', mateys.  Ya bally well came onto shore in the wrong place, wot!"  Swiftly the major's right ear drops as he suddenly kicks into the nearest rat, large footpaw in the centre of the belly as he catches the sword in his paw."  The Major calling out the Long Patrol battle cry as he fells the rat he kicked a second ago.

Humbert watches the scout on the dune intently, waiting for the scout to give the sign. He looks around him, making sure the group he's commanding, as well as the main patrol, are all still hidden but ready. He raises his arm as he waits for the signal to be given, he suddenly sees the major kicking out and panicks, "Attack! Up an attem lads!" he shouts, waving franticly for everyone to get in there. He watches, shaking his head in wonder as the signal never actually appears.

Darklett's ears perk at the battle cry, and he immediately leaves his spot and charges, any nervousness left behind that rock. Two throwing knives are released from the confines of his belt and are held in his paws, ready to throw once he's guaranteed a target.

A weasel beside the kicked rat blinks in surprise.  "Oi, that were a bit OTT warn't it, mate?" he asks of Jarril.

Paws all over the place, Terrence tries to collect himself. "The signal! That was the signal, wot! Erm..I..arrrrrrrgh!" He leaps up, whirling his sling, more out of fear rather than bloodlust. Quite beside himself, he trips over his own footpaws and tumbles down the sand bank in a whirl of sand, ears and paws. Righting himself, the young hare attempts to steel himself for his first taste of action.

Northpaw yell Eulalia! He aims at one of the rats fire at him as he yells the time0honored warcry of the Long Patrol. "Eulilia!

Buckthorn grunts and shoots a small smile at Dark before diving over the dune, his rapier at ready as he shouts and sprints over sand and random dune plants. The hare charges, his ears down and his body flexed for battle. He first comes across the ferret, his rapier trying to find it's mark. Hooktail growls, trying his best to slash down on the beast before him. Buck easily sides steps this, instead cutting his blade to the side. The ferret stabs again, reaching the upper tunic and shoulder blade of the hare. Buck lets out a grunt and kicks out, landing the ferret on his back. The large hare quickly stabs down, killing the ferret in a few quick strokes.

Jarril moves towards the weasel and smiles.  "Aye matey but if y' that thick t' realise."  He headbutts the weasel and mutters.  "I ain't some bally well vermin, wot."  The major moving about quickly as he comes to the front of Thorntail who swings his sword, cutting into the right shoulder of the major.  "Y' lying scum.  I'll cut y' in half!"  Jarril manages to bring up the sword to block the searat's swing and frowns back.  "Egads.  Y' breath stinks."  The major hissing through clenched teeth as his shoulder bleeds through the torn fabric.

The weasel swoons.

"lucky lucky twice as lucky" sings Turnip as he returns to the cave entrance, the front of his long, ragged robe now splattered with blood. He now sports a pair of small white objects (with just a bit of a red stain) on a rope around his neck. He stares as he sees the crowd of longpatrollers running towards them. He makes a strangled cry and turns on his heels, shutting the cave's door behind him and retreating into the darkness.

About five rats shriek and turn to the cave door, banging on it desperately.  "Turnip, you crazy sod, let us in!" one screams.

Terrence flings himself into the fray, flaying his slingpaw about. About time he pulled himself together.. Socking a rat square in the eye, he marvels at his own success, before serving him another blow to the head. "Tchah. Serves y'right, you stinky ole, smelly-bottomed.." He is cut off, mid-insult, by the arrival of an elbow in his face. Stunned, he turns to the owner of the elbow, a stringy weasel, and prepares to either whack him in the face or..run.

Northpaw jumps up after firing his arrow. The arrow reaches a rat, shortening its life. He jumps over the dune drawing both of his sword s, all the while yell "Eulilia!!!!!!!". He charges twisting arond slashes a rat, taking off its head. He looks around for Darklett, and then runs towards him, "How y' doign Dark? I got two.".

The stringy weasel narrows his eyes at Terrence and swings a scimitar at his gut.  "Bally hares, takin' the mick out of our accent, wot," he snarls.

Darklett circles around the outside of the fray, peering into the crowd for an open opportunity to throw... And he spots one, a rat that looks rather confused as to what's going on... An easy target, he wheels his arms around, throwing both the knives at the rat, who never saw it coming. They bury themselves into his side, bringing him to the sand. Without hesitating for room to congratulate himself, he takes out two more knives, looking around to make sure he's not being flanked. He spots a vermin coming from the side at him-- a stoat-- and he's getting a little close for comfort, the stoat's pike thrusting forward and piercing through his shoulder. Needless to say, Dark's not too happy about that one, and he uses his opposite paw to chuck the knife held in it, taking the stoat's life right in the neck. "...Rgh!" He takes the pike's tip and slides it back out of his shoulder, turning to Northpaw with a glare. Aaand, he looks for another target, his left arm pretty much useless now.

Jarril gets a punch in the face by Thorntail who's cursing with all the anmes under the sun of the hare that tricked him.  "I'll cut y' up so they won't know what y' are-OW!"  Jarril moving to the side quickly, feels Thorntail headbutt the hare back as he swings down the blade.  With only instinct and pure luck, the major rolls out of the way, muttering under his breath.  "Not having a bally good day, wot."  Strong back legs swinging around as he catches the rat, toppling him over into the sand.  Getting up, the major coughs and dusts himself off again.  "Now sah.  Shall we try this again and fight fairly."  The hare slowly picking up the sword.  "I thought captains had manners when fighting each other, wot."  Thorntail staggers up and spits some blood out as he curses.  "Y' not one of our kind."  Jarril nods.  "How right ya are, sah."  Moving in again as both blades clash against each other.

Acting quickly, Terrence leaps backwards, the blade missing his belly by about an inch. "You rotten cad! What are you trying to do, kill me?" Uh, duh. Abandoning his sling, he launches an energetic punch into the stringy fellow's enormous nose. "Take that!" So much for nerves.. As the weasel attempts another swing, Terrence brings his loaded sling cracking down on his skull. StringyWeasel slumps on the sand, dead. "Oh, blimey..I think he's dead..do you think he's dead?" He asks a hare nearby, busy battling a rat. Not going to get an answer there, T..

Darklett tries to regain some use back in his other arm, but he can't do much else but lift it halfway... Cursing to himself, he tosses the knife at a weasel who has his back to him, not even waiting to see if it hits (it does, right to the left of his spine) before taking out another knife, and charging inward, getting more angles... Right when he throws the next knife, he gets a spearbutt to the back of the head, his eyes rolling back in his head as he falls forward, the knife to be thrown landing just a couple feet away from his outstretched paw.

Northpaw looks over at Darklett, "Y' gonna be ok there, Dark?". Without waiting for an answer, he charges towards the cave door is. "Eulilia!!!!!". He trips up, stumbling fowards he takes a flying leap towards them, his two sabres entering a vermin's chest, killling him insatantly. The vermin falls downback wards with the force of the thrust, and Northpaw does a handstand with his sabres. He jerks pulling the swords out of the vermin, and goes to his feet. Lookign around for more vermin, they seeminly corering.

A friendly crab sees Darklett looking a bit iffy on the floor and so grabs him with one pincer and drags him to safety.

A hare near Darklett, named sailpaw sees him go down, and runs towards him sheath her short sword. She drags him back to the cave they were previously in.

Jarril finds himself again being fallen to the sand, not being a fighter but a runner.  Seeing Thorntail smile, the sword blade goes up as the rat makes for the killing blow.  Kicking out at Thorntail's legs in one desperate moment, the major hears the loud crack of bone snapping as the rat falls forwards.  Moving his blade up, the major feels Thorntail's chest make a sickening sound as it goes right through him.  Blinking underneath with the rat's face staring right at him, the eyes dulling over, the major coughs and splutters.  "Gads.  Definately need ta do something about that breath of ya's, wot."  Moving the rat over to the side, the major looks up and slowly gets up from where the blade of the sword the rat stole earlier in the day is in the sand just a few inches about the hare's head and between the ears.  Grabbing it, the major pulls it out as he gets up again.

Humbert busies himself looking dramatic and dashing as he surveys and scene and keeps a good look-out for any stray verminous types looking to escape. He nods to himself, quite satisfied that he's going to do a great job of protecting the ragged crowd of hares around him and pretty sure this'll help get him up to the much-longed-for major rank without him having to suck up to Jarril. He laughs, "Keep yer eyes open chaps, I'm sure we'll see off any of the ruffians that appear eh?" he says with authority and his "commanding" voice he's been practicing since his promotion. Sadly, noone managed to see Turnip, despite his reckless gallop towards the group of hares, all looking outwards and not towards the cliffs. Owing to this blatant carelessness noone sees the staff hurtling in and cracking the back of the Lieutenants head. "Mwaha! cries the crazy Turnip as he leaps over the prone body of Humbert and hurtles past the now confused watch-hares.

The crab makes an annoyed crab noise and pinches Sailpaw before scuttling away.

Buckthorn grumbles, his paws going out to grab at the rat trying to sneak up on another hare. He quickly knocks the beast out with the handle of his rapier. He jumps forward, quickly kicking the rat away as it lands on his feet. A large rat jumps a his back, causing the buck to yell and stab at the rat. The rat bites onto the back of Buck's, causing a great amount of pain to the healer. "Gah!"

Fffffffffff! A sickining sound comes from the dagger that just hit Northpaw's left shoulder. He scowls at the vermin how threw it, his left arm now injured. He charges at the vermin, point first. The vermin turns to run, but is stabbed in the back, and the vermin looks down and sees the point of Northpaw's sabre.

Humbert lies with his face to the ground, his leg twitches randomly and then is still once more. Thick, dark blood oozes slowly out of the wound on the back of the Lieutenant's skull and makes a puddle around him, slowly running into one of Turnip's footprints, filling it up and taking the shape. All very dramatic and artistic to the casual onlooker, whoever the weirdo might be. Humbert the brave lieutenant has drawn his last breath, uttered his last command and raises his last patronising eyebrow. Humbert has passed on.

Jarril turns around, carrying the sword with his left paw now, the right side of his uniform drenched in his blood, the major see's one more weasel.  Lifting his right arm up with some pain, the major grips the handle with two paws and frowns.  "Well, come on, I don't have all day, wot!"  Seeing the weasel turn and run, it only gets a few paces before being downed by a arrow from a hare on the top of the sand dune.  The major moves onto his knees and rests his head against the sword handle.  "I'll just lie here for a moment."  The major slumps to the ground, the effects of the headbutt finally coming to fruitition with Thorntail a few moments ago.  To any vermin, the major looks like another fallen hare.

Buckthorn rips the rat off of his back, finally dealing a blow to kill it off. "Hold... on..." The healer gasps, staggering over to where the major lay. Buck tears the falling bodies away from the hare. "C'mon... Maj'ah..." He says, sinking down to his knees. He lightly tugs on the Major. Buck breaths out, looking around him at the unconscious hares around him. "Why in bloody 'ell... was I th' only healer... sent on this patrol?" He grumbles weakly, looking down.

Turnip runs madly from the group ,persued by the late-lieutenant's small group, all a way behind him after recovering from the shock of the random attack. He cackles madly, "Ahhh they're after me!" he shoulds wildly as he runs, "They're after me lucky charms!" he continues crazily, dodging past one of the sentries who was watching the back of the patrol. He cackles as he hears a shout behind him and takes a moment to look back, at which time he trips and sprawls to the floor.

Flash, the wonder weasel lands catlike in front of Buckthorn, sabre drawn and chest thrown impressively out.  "Put down that wabbit," he commands, sabretip at the hare's throat.  "Or I will 'ave you for bweakfast."

Northpaw looks at Flash, and runs towards him charging at him, sabre up in the air, as he goes by him he slashes a wounding, not killing slash, causing him to faint.

Buckthorn glares forward, his eyes narrowing. He scrambles up, his left paw holding out his rapier and his right going for a dagger. "Y'stay bloody well ah'way from them, weasel." He growls, his ears going back. Buck props himself up on the balls of his long feet, every muscle tensing up like a cat ready to pounce. "Leave, or die vermin." He calls out.

After fully inspecting his limbs and torso, amazed at his lack of injuries, Terrence brushes himself off and straightens his tunic. "Pah, don't know why I was so worried earlier.." he mutters to himself. He coughs. "Er, not that I was worried. At all. Me? Never. No..not one bit, eh?" he adds, loudly, to anyone who might be listening to him (ie. no-one). He laughs nervously. Time to retreat to his corner..

Briarflower fends off Northpaw's attack easily, with a quick swishing motion of his sabre.  "Haha," he says, swashbucklingly, one paw on his hip.  "You cannot 'ope to kill us all, wabbit.  We will just cawwy on coming.  Haha!"

After slashing Flash, North sees that Jarril is down, he yells, "Major!". He runs towards him, sliding down on his knees. He looks back and sees Flash. He drops his sabre, and gets a dagger, throwing it at him. He looks back to Jarril, and Buckthorn.

Buckthorn stompes forward, his paws nimbly missing the body of Jarril below. He shoots out a paw, turning the blade as it goes. The other paw flashes up to defend, the dagger glinting in the light provided. "Run, North. Get clear o' this area!" He shouts, kicking at the weasel. "Yer gettin' in the bloody way!" He tries to say as he dodges the hare.

Northpaw gets up, getting his sabre a gain. "You take care of Jarril, I take the bloody weasel.". He runs behind Flash and shouts, "Hey you big, fat, snoveling, son of a fat eel, come and get your lickin'!".

Buckthorn rolls his eyes at the young hare. "North, get the 'ell out of here. Thats an ord'ah!" He shouts back, taking a step back in order to fend out any backlash of the weasel. He really wasn't in the ranking of giving orders, but he knew he was in higher rank than the young buck trying to pick a fight.

Flash catches the kick right in the goolies.  "Ai!" he screams.  "You will pay for that, you wascally wabbit!"  His voice seems slightly higher.  The sabre clashes with the dagger and he pirouettes, returning to swipe at the hare's legs.  "Lalalala..." he hums, putting his combat to music.

Turnip rolls from his fall and continues to tumble, falling into a rocky outcrop and lying prone for a moment. He sits up and shakes his head dazedly and sees a blurry image of a figure hurlting towards him. He makes a confused noise and bangs the side of his head to try and straighten it out. Unfortunately (ironically enough), he gets skewered by the rampaging hare during this action leaving him in a rather odd deathpose, a very confused look and one arm against the side of his head quite theatrically as he sits, slumped against a rock. He...well... dies.

Buckthorn pushes himself and his two blades forward, trying his best to side step the opposing weapons. The blades clash and clang, occasionally missing each other. Buck growls and lets out a howl as one of the blades clip his whiskers off. He slashes up with the rapier, while jabbing down at the weasels stomach with the dagger.

Flash the wonder weasel dies, which rather surprises him as he didn't think he would.

Buckthorn staggers back, dropping his blades. The large healer gasps out, rubbing a paw at his bleeding cheek. He glances about the battle ground, surprised to not see many moving about. Buckthorn places his pain aside and quickly bends down to his knees, placing a few gently paws on the Major. The healer slowly goes about the process of bandaging up the hurt major, using the supplies from his belt. Once in a while he'd grunt, the pain getting to him. After a while he got up, making sure the Major was comfortable, and moved on to the next hurt beast.

Jarril slowly mumbles something as he mutters under his breath.  "Yes sah..."  Opening his eyes, the major slowly sits up, feeling a few things different.  He looks down, winces and see's his shoulder all tended to as he places a paw up to his head and feels the bandage there.  Sitting there groggily he looks about slowly to his surroundings.

Turnip flicks open an eye very quickly, enough to see if theres any beast around and if its safe to move or not. He sees noone and lets out a quiet groan, feeling for the rusty sword sticking out of his ribs. He winces as he feels it and the bloody-wetness around it, still seeping out. He wrenches the sword out and flings it down beside him, then raises a gnarled old paw back to the wound where he feels gently inside it, checking to see if there are any damaged internal organs... none were scratched by the blade on the way through... lucky! He slowly pushes himself along on the sand, leaving a trail of sticky blood, dragging himself towards the hills and to the relative safety that awaits him there...

Turnip, a rather old and wisened looking creature, dressed in a ragged old brown robe. Thoroughly stained with blood on the front, some his, some others. Around his neck there is a thin rope with 2 small white objects on them, appearing to be the dismembered feet of a small rabbit. He usually wears a wicked grin through his old and rotting teeth, capering along and vaulting with a long wooden staff as he does so.

Terrence straightens up, feeling very self-righteous indeed. He attempts a proud, dignified strut towards the rest of the group, but trips on the the second step, over a sea-rat carcass. "Watch where you're goin', wot!" he scolds the dead vermin. "I mean, really, gonna take someone's eye out with that thing.." he says, delicately stepping around the dagger sticking up out of the grasp of the rat's lifeless paw. The young hare glances up as he notices the rest of the group making their way back to the mountain. "Blimey! Wait for meeeeeeeee!" he yells, dashing off towards them, in a panic that they'll eat the celebratory grub without him.