Cut apps thread

[Pennies]

So I thought, who needs some love? The immediate answer: Coralbell.



Probably to be edited in like a second when I discover my forum skills have atrophied.

Future cut apps drawings probably coming. Slowly. And possibly not everyone... because time is limited for me right now :(

[Frost]

A'ight, I continue my winning streak by introducing to you all the wonderful and amazing fox, Tanne Grymklifer!

[spoiler]Frost threatened the blue glass in the sanctuary. The crackling torches lining the hall cast odd azure shadows. The assorted beasts in attendance gave their full attention to the white-clad ashen fox at the standard. Breaths escaped in clouds.

"Harvest is stored, and we feast while the sun flees," the fox growled, his voice an ocean of black pearl. "Thanks be to the great White Emperor."

"Blessed be Balanco!" the congregation replied.

The fox gave a toothy grin and nodded to a pair of stoats cradling a kit. "We celebrate the safe journey and bearing of our newest member." The parents returned the nod and smiled.

The fox's pale eyes locked on a pair of scarred badgers sitting at the rear of the sanctuary. "Your faces are unfamiliar to us, friends," he said.

The badgers rose in unison and stretched. "A word wi' ye, Archon?" the heavy one asked.

" 'Tween us?" the thin one added.

The fox dug his claws into the standard, then scanned the familiar faces of his assembly. "Go to your homes in peace," he said with a smile. "We shall resume on the morrow."

"Praise to the White Emperor!" the congregation called. They took to their footpaws and scattered through the various exits of the building. The fox smiled and returned farewells as the assorted beasts departed. The last to depart was an old mole who pulled the doors tight behind him.

The fox released his grip from the standard and brushed the slivers free from his claws as the badgers slowly approached him. "What brings you to our forest, friends? I doubt it's the climate."

The heavy badger pulled a cleaver out from one of the folds of his cloak, his good eye looking the fox up and down. "You hail from Alamonde?"

The fox snickered. "I have been in that area before, yes. Do you bring a message from the old land?"

"Oh, quite," the thin one said. The scar that ran across the middle of his face twisted his smile into a sneer. He plucked a wicked dagger from its sheath and waved it at the fox. "We're promised a fat sack of coin for your head."

The fox laughed at this, tugging at the black scarf under his white robe. He uncoiled it with one pull, revealing a jagged pink scar across his throat. "You're not the first to try, stripe-back, but you'll be the last today!"

He threw the scarf into the face of the thin badger, and followed it with a smaller stone pedestal. The heavy badger knew his companion was dead when his head turned to face him without his body following. He swung his cleaver at the fox, but the fox caught his paw and arm and threw him through one of the doors. He flipped twice at the force of impact and exhaled in frustration.

"Burr, whut'rr 'ee wanten uzn's t'do wi' 'izzy'un, Tanne?"

The heavy badger turned around and saw the congregation re-assembled around him in a semi-circle, armed with pikes, spears and assorted weaponry. The mole stuck his spearhead through the badger's shoulder, pinning him to the ground with a shriek, while others disarmed him of his cleaver.

"Cutting practice," the fox said, wiping at his brow with the scarf. "Let's make sure those blades are still sharp, eh?"

"Blessed be Balanco!" the congregation replied, stabbing at the badger with their weaponry.

"C-c-curse you!" the badger roared, spitting a crimson stain at the fox.

"Thanks be to the great White Emperor," the fox Tanne said, kneeling down with the cleaver and cutting his throat.[/spoiler]



"But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams." W.B. Yeats (1865–1939)

[Wednesdays Child]

Samia, Mouse Assassin

[spoiler]The Tabor and Fife was a tavern in every sense, poor lighting and stained plaster and irregular timber beams riddled with curiosities nailed into place by her wayfaring patrons, Redwall brass, Noonvale woodworks, Southsward folded papers, all suffused in the welcoming stink of cider and hops and wood-smoked fish.

Samia of the Stonehewn finished pouring the burly searat's flagon of stout, took his coin, and moved to the next. On the edge of vision, the local warbeast Reksha took a table and settled down with her lieutenants.

The mousemaid could only spare a few glances in between pouring pints and taking coins, but those were enough. Reksha sat a paw taller than any of her seconds and most of the rest of the tavern. She bore three massive scars across her face and neck, and a mangled ear. Her voice took up half the room and carried an accent from somewhere beyond the sea.

The sun went down and beasts left in little drunkard groups - staggering, singing, laughing. Closing time came, but Reksha's table remained.

"I don't mind staying, Master Tane. The others can go home." Grateful nods and smiles from the other staff. Reksha and her seconds would stay til highest moon, too long for most.

The right moment wasn't long in coming. Tane disappeared into the backroom loaded down with the dirty mugs, just as one of Reksha's lieutenants got to the funny part of his story and the room filled with laughter. Samia ducked down behind the bar, thumbed a tiny wooden box open in her apron pouch, took a pinch of dust and sniffed deep.

And then she stood, letting the visions of the Ashim come to her. They showed her death, because they always did - by fire, sword, plague, starvation. And as they boiled in her vision she went to Reksha's table and collected their empty tankards, and as she did she brought to mind the clear, deliberate image of cutting the warbeast's throat. The visions of the Ashim were supposed to change, to show her that if Reksha died in this way, there would be a great shift in the tide, from death by blade and war to death by old age and life well lived.

And yet they did not.

The Visions had confirmed Samia's intent for five beasts before this one. But this... this meant that whether she killed Reksha or not, the violence, murder, starvation would thunder on untrammelled.

What was different?

She retreated. Set the dirty tankards aside for Tane's next emergence. Poured three more ales for Reksha's entourage. Stood with death whirling through her mind, refusing to change even as she envisioned, clear and careful, cutting every one of Reksha's lieutenants' throats.

She was at a loss.

An hour or so later, Reksha and her seconds dispersed. Samia accepted, when Tane sent her home.

She found Reksha just two alleyways away from the Tabor and Fife, with another. And she stopped, moved closer in quiet and shade as she had been taught since childhood, and realised that this was Reksha's mate.

And finally, the visions of the Ashim changed.

Samia moved only to follow the couple back to their home, and she did so with every ounce of the silence and formlessness of her tuition. She watched as they abluted, and drank water, and settled down to sleep. When their breath slowed, she dared to move again.

And there, under the watchful eyes of only dust and time, Samia of the Stonehewn unstoppered a vial of poison. She held her breath and tipped the vial... and brought about peace.[/spoiler]

[Cobb]

So here's my cut Guardian, Ayla Bramble.

[spoiler]Ayla sat back on her heels, her wheelbarrow full. With her herb garden cleared of weeds, she was ready to dump it on the compost heap. The small dormouse brushed her paws on her skirts and stood. The afternoon sun shone brightly in her little clearing, but the shadows were starting to cling deeper in the woods; she had been working longer than she thought.

Ayla dumped the wheelbarrow and went inside her hut. The air smelled of the sage bundle she had burned earlier and the deeper, earthy scent of the stock she always had bubbling on the back burner of her stove. Just like her grandmother taught her, every scrap went into the pot; one never knew when one would need a quick broth or soup.

The light was dim, so Ayla lit some of her paw-dipped candles. The soft glow illuminated the bunches of herbs hanging along the walls. Jars with echinacea, mint, and other barks and plants lined her shelves with various crystals scattered throughout. The hut was comprised of just one room; Ayla hardly ever had visitors. She knew what the local villagers thought of her – it was why she lived in this clearing by herself. They called her witch and spinster, though they were willing enough to come to her when they needed a tonic or help birthing their young.

The dough Ayla had prepared earlier had risen plenty. She beat the bread down and formed it into loaves to bake. She put them into the oven and gathered the vegetables she needed to chop for her dinner.

Knock, knock, knock.

Ayla jumped at the thudding. She rushed to the faded wooden door and peered out its crescent-shaped window. Seeing nobeast, the dormouse opened it, ready to be of help to whoever might need it.

Once again, there was nobeast there. Ayla sighed.

The local children liked to dare each other to knock on the "witch's" door and run before she could answer it. She could hear a group of them giggling in the trees.

"Shhhh! If she catches us she'll turn us into toadstools!"

Of course, Ayla could do no such thing, but the superstition persisted, in part because the dormouse had a mushroom garden along the north side of her hut. She cooked with some; others were used in her tonics.

After her dinner of bread, cheese, and roasted vegetables, Ayla brewed herself a cup of chamomile and lemon tea. She brought it outside to watch the sun disappear behind the trees. This was her favorite way to end the evening.

Her cup empty, the dormouse went inside and turned down the bed. She blew out every candle but one. Ayla left the candle on the table and brought out the locked chest she kept hidden under her bed, just as she did every night before sleep. It was made of cedar and had a carved sun on the top.

A movement caught Ayla's eye and she gasped, clutching the box to her chest. The contents were precious, Dinrail's greatest treasure. And she was entrusted with it.

Looking around, she sighed in relief, realizing that the flickering candle had created the intruder.

Ayla took the key she kept around her neck off and unlocked the box. She opened it up and checked to see that the contents were still all there. Flicking her paw through the box, Ayla whispered under her breath, naming each thing within. All was well, and she locked it and returned it to its hiding place.

The dormouse blew out the candle and climbed into bed.[/spoiler]

[Mara the Wolf]

[spoiler]Name: Maut
Species: Fox (Silver)
Gender: Male
Age: 28

"'Member our old jobs, Veach matey?" Maut said as he nocked an arrow to his bow.

The stoat sitting at his side simply tilted his head upon hearing his name.

The silver fox loosed the arrow at a target hung high up on a tree. It came very close to the center. "You 'member, don'tcha mate? Like that time we had t' traverse through Flitchaye territory." Maut aimed another arrow. Miss. "Damn." He continued reminiscing as he continued his practice. For every bull's-eye or near-hit, there were plenty that just barely made the target or went wide.

The two worked many jobs in order to get by. This one had unfortunately required they escort some travelers through the cannibals' territory - it would've taken at least half the day to go around. Wearing wet kerchiefs over their snouts, Maut had Veach head into the Flitchaye tunnels and use the weasels' vapors against them, tossing it into their sleeping chambers and quickly running away, with Maut shooting any that dared try to make an escape.

"Li'l flea-bitten cannibals never knew what hit 'em, ey mate?"

Veach simply stared.

After a while, Maut put away his bow and started practicing with his sword.

"'Member when we had t' fend off that ambush?"

They'd been hired out as bodyguards, escorting a rich couple home. They'd been ambushed by twoscore weasels and rats. Maut rushed in without hesitation, making short work of the would-be marauders. A few put up a half-decent fight however, the fox artfully dodging and parrying blows before heads rolled. Veach, for his part, had tackled his victims to the ground and ripped out the hapless vermin's throats.

The silver fox chuckled. "Kinda miss those jobs, don't you?"

Veach trilled a little.

With the sun starting to set, Maut's silver fur made him easily start to blend into their forest surroundings. Not all the fox's jobs required charging headfirst into danger. Plenty of times Maut had been hired to slip into enemy territory. Very few ever noticed the silver fox as he sneaked around and listened in on their plans.

"Maybe we'll get a fun job soon. One that'll provide us wit' a real challenge."

At this point the stoat had curled up with a yawn. Suddenly, he was alert and on his paws, ears swiveling to-and-fro. Maut noticed, and was immediately tense, scanning his surroundings for whatever had his friend on edge.

A badger-sized pine marten came towards the duo, broadsword in paw.

"Whattaya want?" Maut said through clenched teeth, Veach growling lowly at his side.

"Yer head."

"Excuse me?!"

"I've heard of ye. Yer a skilled mercenary an' spy, or so's I hear... Yer responsible fer the fall o' my squad," the marten growled lowly.

Maut stiffened. "Ya have no way of knowin' if I had anyting t' do wit' that, and even if I was-"

The marten charged with a roar. Maut quickly brought up his sword and just barely blocked his swing. Veach lunged and bit into the marten's sword arm. He roared in pain and his grip loosened. Maut knocked the sword away as his attacker flung Veach to the side. He swung at him again, but his attack was weaker now, allowing the fox to dodge and strike. The marten's head fell to the ground, followed momentarily by the body.

Maut rushed to his friend. "Veach, you okay?!"

Veach trilled weakly, and nuzzled Maut's paw.

"That was close, ey mate?"[/spoiler]

[sadbonobo]

Hello everyone! A great friend of mine encouraged me to apply to this contest and try something new, and I'm very glad I listened to him. It's been a neat experience!

If anyone has advice they'd like to share, please let me know.


Sheeva
Guardian
Pine Marten
Female
20


Sheeva lunged forward and slashed at her opponent, then tucked and rolled to get out of reach. She spun to face her adversary and raised her sword, ready to parry any attack that was flung her way.

"Yay!" cheered her audience. "Stab th' tree!"

A playful smile crept across her face as her brother cheered her on.

"Alright Abner, what do you think? Shall I spare my foe, or chop him to bits?"

"Chop him!"

"As you wish, m'lord" she responded with a lavish bow. She held her sword in both claws and vanquished the assailing tree.

"Yay, he's chop!"

"Ha ha! I did it! He shall torment us no longer" Sheeva declared.

"Okay mister, time to head back." She scooped Abner up and balanced him in the crook of her arm. "It's not safe to stay out too long."

"Cuz mama gone?"

She paused. "Yes, Abner... 'Cuz mama is gone." Sometimes his words cut me to the bone, she thought. He probably doesn't even know what he's saying. He's too young to be sad.

"Come on now, off we-" Sheeva's ears pricked. Footsteps? Someone else is here? A pit of dread formed in her stomach as Sheeva scurried behind a tree, Abner in her arms.

"Okay, Abner" Sheeva whispered, "it's hush time, we have to be quiet now."

"Oh, okay! Shh!" Abner responded by clasping his paws to his muzzle.

Heavy footsteps clomped through the snow, accompanied by the sound of metal scraping against dead underbrush. A gruff voice called out saying, "I thought I heard somethin' over here! Sounded like a voice!"

Brigands! I thought they didn't roam here anymore, Sheeva thought.

"You don't hear someone talkin' right next to ya, then you hear voices in th' woods? You're off your damn rocker" responded a second voice. "This part of the forest has been empty for weeks! Ain't nothin' to steal except for snow and dead trees. I'm leavin', it's cold as hell out here."

Yes, Fates alive, please go, Sheeva pleaded internally. She looked down at Abner while the voices griped to each other. His paws were still clasped to his muzzle, gazing back at her with glittering eyes. He probably thinks this is a game, she thought. It needs to stay that way.

She smiled and raised her pointer claw to her muzzle in a shushing motion. She turned to peek around the tree trunk to see where the creatures stood. The two brigands were but two yards away from them, too busy arguing to notice they were being watched.

Sheeva turned back around with eyes wide with fear, heart pounding in her chest.

I've been training for this moment, Sheeva reminded herself. I have to protect Abner at all costs!

She slowly drew her sword out of its sheath. I won't let these monsters take any more family away from me!

Sheeva's arms trembled as she held her sword. Her head swam as visions of her mother raced through her mind.

I have fight them... I have to kill them!

She whirled to face the brigands; sword raised.

But they were gone. As the pounding in her ears subsided, she could make out the sound of footsteps disappearing into the woods.

Sheeva dropped her sword as she fell to her knees with tears streaming down her cheeks, and praised the Fates she didn't have to fight.

Sheeva cupped her face in her paws while her chest heaved with labored breaths.

"Sheba? You 'kay?" Abner asked as he peered around the tree.

I must be strong, Sheeva thought. I can't keep Abner safe like this.

[Vizon]

Alright, I wasn't going to post mine until I read everyone else's, but since your announcement, Grey, I suppose I'll admit to writing Candace.

[spoiler]Candy's stomach gurgled at the scent of simmering stew. She crept quietly along the forest path until a cluttered campsite came into view. A huge kettle hung propped over a campfire, surrounded by a band of vermin vagrants. She counted them silently, then fished a tube of red oxide powder from her pack. She mixed it with some spit, rubbing it down the edges of her mouth and on her paws. Then she wet her fur haphazardly, tore a hole in her shirt, and rubbed more pigment into the fur beneath. Finally, she splashed some water into her eyes and rubbed them fiercely, breathing faster and faster until at last she burst from the foliage, stumbling up to the encampment.

"Help! Our wagons were attacked! Up on the ridge!" She pointed, clutching at her fake wound with her other paw while sucking in great, wheezing breaths. The robbers stared. "W-we fought them off--" she coughed and gasped again, "but I fear – at too great a cost!" She looked down at her wet red paws, then flopped to the ground.

The vermin blinked at the "dying" weasel, then with one accord, took off toward the far ridge to make their own claims on whatever imagined loot awaited their greedy paws.

Once they were out of hearing range, Candy leapt to her feet and hurried over to the pot of stew, ladling an enormous helping into a borrowed bowl. The soup was quite ordinary, but to a beast that had not eaten in two days, it was heavenly. The weasel helped herself to a second and then a third bowl, until her belly felt positively bloated.

And then the robbers returned.

Candy cursed loudly and took off at a run, leading the group on a merry chase until she reached an area covered in pine needles.

"Hello boys!" She turned and smiled winningly as the group of snarling thugs surrounded her, brandishing all manner of unpleasant instruments.

She climbed up onto a rotting stump and held up both paws. "Now I realize you fellas have every right to beat the living snot outta me. But it would be such a shame for you all to lose out on such a golden opportunity as the one I have to offer - if only we could work together!" She brought her paws together, interlinking the fingers.

Some of the surrounding vermin paused, but one scar-faced rat snarled. "Shut your gob, wench! You already tricked us once."

"Exactly! Tricking beasts is what I know! And the hustle I've got planned would pay out handsomely enough to fill all our pockets if we play our cards right."

"An' why would you wan' us ta get rich instead o' keepin' it all fer yerself?" A nasally stoat piped in.

"Under normal circumstances I wouldn't," she admitted with a shrug, "but seeing as I'd rather not be pummeled into pulp on such a beautiful afternoon, I'm open to sharing the wealth." She held her paws open benevolently while her foot moved toward the hidden tripwire, in case they didn't take the bait.

After some deliberation, the thugs agreed to hear her out. A delighted Candy filled them in quickly on her proposal involving a rich fox, a case of expensive jewels, and a temporary position at a high-class laundering service. "All you fellas need to do is play your part. With a bit of gussying up, I'll have you all looking like professionals!" She tweaked the scar-faced rat's ear and he growled.

"This'd better pay like you say, weasel, else soup'll be the only thing you'll be able to eat for the rest of your life."
[/spoiler]

[Rascal]

Hurray for weasely weasels! :D