In Misery and Relief

[Dozystoat]

I dunno about you, but there was part of me that dreaded making it in. XP I've got enough on my plate as it is! And, pff, like I need to win a third time. Eheh. Anyhow.

As Ms. Creepy reminded me, as Tara knows which apps are ours, as well as the judges not being silly enough not to recognise a character in a future contest, there really is not much point in NOT putting up our failed ones, is there? Get a bit of review out of them before we stick 'em in some other story, eh? ^^

So here's #1: Celosia. Too late, I realised how horridly stereotypical she was. She started out 1,200 words long, then slowly got pared down to 600. And then went through two and a half more revisions after that.

The idea was, a typical Redwaller. Murdered family, vengeance, yaddayadda, became Abbey Sister to deal with troubles ... so on, so forth. But! She was gonna be all philosophic. Actiony, too. Lot of neat little thematic ideas going around in her head. And she was going to (hopefully discreetly) always ask, "That seem right to you?" *grin*

The Abbot rang for silence, clanging his spoon against his glass. The Great Hall calmed.

"Now, now! Let us not forget the occasion ? Sister Celosia, would you like to say anything?"

The mouse, whiskers and ears still singed from her ordeal, stood up and cleared her throat.

"Friends, a beast such as our Martin is a rare find, a true hero. But I am no hero. I am just an ordinary beast like any of you and I am sure any of you would have done the same. 'We do what we must, because we can,' as Father Abbot says. I appreciate this feast in my honor, but I cannot accept it. This feast is for all of us. Everyone here tonight - thank you!"

Celosia sat down, blushing as the Great Hall clattered with applause. A draft ruffled the tapestry on the wall opposite, and for one fleeting moment she thought Martin had winked at her.

The feast was delightful. Throughout, Celosia clung to the molebabe Grubble, who hadn't been out of her arms since that morning. The abbeybeasts enjoyed themselves exceedingly, and the evening was long spent before the last of the partygoers retired, leaving just Celosia and her charge, the Abbot, and a few snoring hedgehogs who had overdosed on October Ale.

The Abbot leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach. "That's good. Ooawf, I'm so stuffed I'm going to need Foremole's crew just to haul me up the stairs..."

Celosia made no comment, absorbed in humming a soft tune to Grubble, who was curled asleep on her lap.

"Sister Celosia?"

She looked up, startled out of her abstraction. The Abbot?s face was thoughtful, concerned. "Yes, Father?"

"Something is troubling you, isn't it?"

"Yes. I was thinking? I'd like to do something more. Redwall is a safe place. Out in the woods, though, there are so few to help those in trouble. I want to leave the Abbey."

The Abbot paused before speaking. "Sister, I cannot debate your bravery, but your actions of late ? staving off that magpie in the gatehouse, for instance ? have worried me with their recklessness. And now this request? Sister, you are yet young and full of life. Why do you display such temerity?"

Celosia looked down, silent. Grubble snuffled and she stroked his head gently.

"Temerity?  There's no other way to live, Father. My dear Leander and Serissa are gone. They ? we ? lost so much. Too much. It seems right to me to dedicate my time to saving others from a similar tragedy. Recklessness is reasonable, even called for."

The Abbot nodded. "That is well and good, but I would commend you to discretion as well as valor. If you died of recklessness, you would only create greater loss among us. Sister..." The Abbot frowned, now troubled. "I can't keep you in the Abbey against your will, but this cannot entail vengeance in any way."

"No, no. I don't hate her. I wish I knew why she killed them -" Celosia stopped, eyes glazing as her thoughts left the conversation. The Abbot remained silent; a comforting presence.

Celosia blinked, distracted, and wiped her whiskers with a shaky paw. "But it's not for me to decide what her motives were and administer justice. I know that all deeds, good and evil, will be rewarded, but that's not my place. If the rat who killed my family was in danger, I would still do everything I could to save her."

The Abbot's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "That comforts me, Sister, and your compassion warms my heart. But you won't try to be a hero?" he added.

"Only if I am needed to be."

Then the next one ... I didn't even bother with, really. With Blinky on the VI, there was nothing I could do to this character to stop people from immediately recognising its author. XP The name Zheep was something of a throw-away, to be changed when I went through and edited it again. But then I decided my eggs didn't need another basket.

So, unedited, very raw, I present: Lord Zheep

?I don?t think ye should be doin? that, Zheep.?

?Huh?? Zheep said. He didn?t glance up. ?H?come??

??Cos it might pop an? get goo all over ye?? Char offered. The rat could only stand and stare as his master poked at his mother?s eye with a stick.

?She?s just sleepin?,? Zheep said. The weasel shrugged and poked again. This time, the stick went plorp. Zheep?s eyes grew wide.

?Oh, cor, woulda lookit that! Yer right.? He stood up, paw on his chin. ?Let?s try th?other now.?

?Zheep! Where are you, you oaf? I told you not to bother -?

?Gar, it?s da! Quick, unner th?bed!?

Rat and weasel dove, rolled under the bed and held their breaths. Booted footpaws clapped against the stone floor, each step thrice as loud as the one before.

Lord Vengar, ruler of ? [some place] ? stopped. His swishing tail fell limp. Zheep and Char heard nothing for several minutes, just the frantic beating of their own hearts. Then a strangled choke from above.

Vengar dropped to all fours, placed his head against the floor, and wailed. Zheep snickered; seeing his father act like a kit was amusing.

Char scooted further under the bed, so that his backside stuck out the other end.

Vengar had stopped crying. His right paw moved slowly towards a bloodied stick, grasped it slowly. Then he lifted the drooping sheets and stared into his son?s grinning face.

Whap!

?Owowowow!?

?Idiot! Mongrel! Wretch!?

Vengar hauled his son out by the nape. The younger weasel clutched his stricken nose, now scarred and bleeding.

?You did this, did you not? You murdered her; she was the picture of health last night!? The warlord softened, all too quickly. ?Pah ? why do I waste my time? Your addled brain doesn?t recall a thing, does it??

?Huh?? Zheep said, confused enough to forget about his pain.

Vengar dropped him. Zheep rubbed his rump and slid back against the wall. But his father just sat on the bed and stared at his footpaws. Odd, Zheep thought. No lashings this time?

?You were her favourite,? Vengar said quietly. ?I?ll let you live. Take five of the horde, anybeast who will trust you, and go. Get out of my sight. Get out of my castle.?

?Huh?? Zheep said again. Vengar didn?t even raise his head this time.

Char, creeping out from under the bed, took his master?s paw and led him out of the chamber.

?C?mon, Zheep ??

?But when?s mum gonna wake up? Da! H?come mum?s not sayin? nuffin???

?Zheep!? Char pleaded, hauling him backwards. But Zheep was firm, and strode back into the room. Char hid around the corner, paws over his ears.

Four seconds later, Zheep slammed into the wall and the chamber?s doors shut with a bang that echoed down the hall, rattling the torches in their sconces.

The weasel lay still for a while before picking himself up.

?Huh,? he said. For once, it was not a question. He brushed himself off, snorted some blood out of his nose, and looked over at Char.

?Wanna go fill th?bread with termites again??

Char shook his head.

?Zheep, we need to get ready. We gotta go. Lord Vengar?s maaaad, Zheep! It?s doom here now. You remember your brother. Five hordebeasts, Vengar said!?

Zheep scratched his stomach thoughtfully.

?An? then we hunted them down,? he said. Char sighed, smiling at last; Zheep had remembered something.

?That?s right. So we gotta be quick. I think we?ll make it if we can get a boat ??

?Right, right,? Zheep said. ?Right. But first ? wanna spit over th?drawbridge??

Char sighed.

[Cricket Argyll]

I think I know why Coralclaw didn't get in, but I wouldn't mind hearing folks' thoughts. Like Inny, I guess it's a bit of a relief considering this is my first year of grad school and I should be focusing on that. >< This is a...corrected version of the app I sent in because it was only after my deliriously happy typing and submitting that I went back and noticed so many typos and SPAG it hurt. Funnily enough, this app started out being written for Quincy Sorrel. I'd always wanted to do a stutterer. Then Coral showed up and stole the show, so it became her story. Dratted little ferretmaids and their show-stealing ways.

?Name?? the ferret asked, eyeing her critically. Of course her dress left much to be desired, but sitting in the antique wooden chair, she could tell that he would appreciate the fresh shine she?d put into her coat and the fact that almost all of her nearly-white teeth remained intact. Had only cost a bangle for a proper bath with hot water and a brush for her slightly crooked fangs in the city square.

?Coralclaw, like ?em purty shoals as-?

He cut her off. ?Occupation??

?Oh?well?killin? fings fer money.? She shrugged when he raised an eyebrow at her. ?Wot? S?wot I do, aye. Proper ?sasin, I am!?

?Why do you?? he paused rather longer than was necessary, ?th-think you are quaili-lified to be my m-m-m-mate??

Ooo! ?E?s a stutterer, is ?e? Coral thought gleefully.

?I c?n spake wifout m-m-m-makin? a creature wait fer me t?talk straight,? she mocked with a titter. ??Onest, though?can?t says I ?spected ya t?really axe me ?ere, Mistah Quincy Sorrel. On?y ?plied on fe off chance. Fancy bloke like you. ?Igh-bred ladies not take a shine t?that t-t-t-tongue o?yourn??

Quincy narrowed his eyes, and Coral thought she caught just the slightest tinge in his cheeks beneath his light fur. Wouldn?t catch her properly dark coat giving away such emotion. ?How d-d-d-d-dare you, you w-w-w-wuh-?

?Oh, g?won an? skip t?a vow?l fere, luv,? the ferretess snickered.

?Wench!? The ferret suddenly towered above her as he stood and his chair fell back with a heavy thunk. He must have thought being tall and skinny as a rail intimidating. ?I am th-th-the most s-s-s-s-s-s-sought after creature th-this s-s-side of S-S-Sah-Sam-Sampetra! I as-asked you here as a ch-chuh-charity! And-?

?Come off it, luv.? Coral, unfazed by his display, merely yawned and scratched at her muzzle. ?Ever?beast ?ho?s anybeast knows ye?ve been settin? advertisements fer a mate fer nigh on a season. Wot fer, fen? Ye c?n tell ole Coral. Shore an? it?s nice t?ave a creature t?bed wif, but it ain?t a necess?ty.?

?You w-w-wouldn?t unders-s-stand, p-p-p-peasant that you are,? the stuttering ferret huffed, dropping himself into his chair moodily. Or he would have, if it hadn?t been three paces back and tipped over. As it was, Quincy had to make an undignified scramble as his tail hit the marble floor with a painful whump. He righted the chair and sat down in it, attempting and failing to ignore the ferretess? giggles.

?Oh, I fink I?d unnerstan? right well, Mistah Sorrel,? she smirked once he?d settled. ?Ye noble lot? Gotta ?ave yer spawn t?carry on fe family name and fortune, aye? Ye ain?t lookin? fer a mate, yer lookin? fer a muvver. Ain?t fat sweet??

?It?s n-n-not as crude as all th-that!? Quincy protested. The gentry and their euphemisms. Coral rolled her eyes. ?I require a c-c-companion who can care f-f-fuh-for my offs-s-s-spring.?

?Dress it up in fancy words if ye want, luv.? The ferretess shrugged. ?Fact is, yer gonna choose me, so?s I don? see no point in dancin? round fe issue.?

?And why w-would I choose a w-wr-wr-wr-wretch like you?? the ferret demanded.

?E does like the namecallin?, she thought with an inward sneer, filing the information away for later use.

?One reason, luv,? she finally explained. ?I?m gonna say ?yes? when ye axe me, stutter an? all. Tell me, ?ow many ovver ladies as would do fat??

Silence reigned for a full five seconds. ?I?ll have rooms p-p-p-p-prepared f-for you.?

?Ain?t fat grand?? the future Mrs. Quincy Sorrel leered.

[Kenner]

Wow.....

I gotta say I love Coralclaw......  Absolutely love her.  No idea why she didn't get in.  I like her a lot better then some others.



Inny, my guess for Celosia is that frankly....  She's boring.  That sounds mean but it was......  And as a very very big fan of your writing it's not fun to say. 

I did like Zheep though.  My guess for him was that we weren't inside his head enough.  Char was about as major a character as he was.  But I did like him.... a lot.

So here are my two tattered beauties.....  I'll admit I had very high hopes for Alethia.

?Alethia!  Come here at once!?
The little stoat jumped at the command.  Slowly, she stepped out of the dark corner of the classroom and walked towards the fox standing at the front of the room.  Her face flushed red under her fur as the dunce cap perched on her head wobbled alarmingly to the accompaniment of the other children?s stares.
They didn?t giggle of course?. No one giggled in Mrs. Finch?s class.  It wasn?t healthy.

?Faster!?  Snapped out the teacher, and Ali quickened her steps a fraction of an inch.

?No Ma?am,?  She whispered, hardly audible over the pounding of her heart.  Or at least she thought.

?What was that??  Growled the fox.  ?Are you being impertinent in class and lying again Alethia?  What did I tell you would happen if I caught you doing that again??

Ali had reached her teacher now, although she stood well out of grabbing reach.  

?No Ma?am.?  She said again, but louder.  ?I am not lying, and you never told me anything about what would happen.?

Mrs. Finch?s eyes narrowed into thin slits.
?Bernard, please go and fetch the birch rod please.?  She hissed to a boy in the back row.  ?We need to refresh  Miss Alethia?s memory.?

Ali trembled, and a huge tear rolled down her face.  ?I?m not lying!?  She sobbed.  Fear made her voice crack.  ?I always tell the truth!?  She gasped out.  ?Daddy told me I must always tell the truth!?
The dunce cap chose this point in time to topple off her head and land between her paws.  Automatically, she reached to pick it up.

Ali thought she?d been standing far enough away from her teacher, but when the fox reached out and twisted her ear in a vicious pinch, she thought otherwise.
?I like to believe I?ve been very patient with you Alethia.?  Snapped Mrs. Finch, twisting harder.  ?I?ve done everything I can do cure you of this horrible habit of lying.  It is a nasty and insidious thing to do.   The whole town knows very well that you have no father, and that your sister is? well, of questionable character.?
Not even Mrs. Finch wanted the children going home asking their parents awkward questions.  A body had to keep a respectable position if they wanted the job of school mistress.

?I don?t have a sister!?  Ali shrieked as the pain in her ear became intolerable.   ?And I do have a daddy!  He talks to me every night!?  

Bernard at this point, returned with the birch rod, and under the sharp command of Mrs. Finch, carried it to the front of the room.

?Children.?  Mrs. Finch addressed the class.  ?Watch, and learn what happens to liars.?

Ali instantly stopped screaming.  Her face froze into a mad grin of terror.
?Yes please?.?  She hissed at the fox.  ?Tell them please what happens to liars.?  And then she screamed when the rod came down hard against her back.  
Ali had felt the rod many times.  But she couldn?t lie.  She must tell the truth, no matter what.  

And my second love was Lykke...  Although after I sent it in and went back to re read it, I think I realized I never mentioned what she was.  Sad thing, I totally thought I had.  I'd written it in, I just knew it.  

?Lykke!?


?Stay  away from Talon Jade,? they?d told her.  ?He?s no good.

But she hadn?t.

?He?s jilted every girl in the town and for a smile and a wink he could get em all back again.  He don?t care for you any more than the rest of them.?

But he had.

Lykke felt the fur on her neck rise.  He?d cared for her far too much.  And now she was running for her life.  She felt the burn in her lungs as she gasped for air and leaned against a tree.  The forest was strange to her.  It all looked the same.  She was a town girl, parties, balls, dashing young males.  That?s what she was good at.

She looked down.  Her dress was torn.  Blue silk.  Talon had bought it for her.

?Lykke!?  There was the shout again.  How she hated that name.  Luck? that?s what it was supposed to mean.  Luck for Talon.  Luck for Talon and his never ending card games.
?Lykke!  I know you?re in there.  Come out now.  Ladies don?t act like this.?

She?d met him at a party.  He was handsome, dashing, full of compliments for her beauty.  And then he invited her to watch a card game, to be his partner at it.   And because she know how to count the numbers, watch the cards, he toasted her as his Lady Luck.

?Go to hell Talon.?  She muttered as she tried to catch her breath.  

Desperately she looked around for a place to hide.  There were no rocks, no shelters, just trees.  Trees and brush.  

Her footpaw landed on a stick, and she heard the crack eco like thunder through the forest.  Panic sweeping over her she pulled her skirts closer to run, only to trip and fall on her face.

?That?s enough pretty girl.?

She looked up into the face of a wildcat.  He held a crossbow on her.  Tilting his head he shouted, ?Talon, she?s here.?

There was a rustling and Talon emerged from the trees.  His handsome face was smiling, and even in the forest his clothes looked immaculate.

?Lykke.?  He crooned.  ?You had me so worried.?

She tensed as he walked towards her.  ?Go away.?  She hissed at him.  ?Let me alone!?

The wildcat waved his bow in the air.  ? I?ll take my fee now.?

Without looking, the male pine marten tossed him a bag of coins.  Lykke watched it?s arc though the air with helpless dread.  And as it hit the cat?s paw, she looked at Talon and swallowed.

?I didn?t take nothing from you.?  She said.  
?Oh but my lady.?  He said taking her paw in a vice-like grip.  ?You took more than you can imagine from me.?

She cried out as he squeezed her paw tighter and pulled   her upright.  
?Let?s go back to town shall we??  Talon looped her arm around his.  ?There?s a card game tonight, and I intend to win.  And you?re going to help me.?

?You?re mad.?  She screamed.  He slapped her.

?That?s no way to talk my darling.?  He said, then kissed her bruised cheek.  ?You?re my lucky girl, and I?ll make a lady of you yet.  Tsk, look how you?ve ripped your dress.  I?ll have to buy you a new one now.?

Lykke stifled a sob as he pulled her through the trees.  The wildcat had vanished.  How many days had it been now since Talon had kidnapped her?  Too long ago to  remember.  

Stay away from him Lykke.  He?ll break your heart just like so many others.

Bitterly, she wished that were true.

[Dirgecallers]

I sent in two apps: Baker and Croup...


I didnt think over croup much....(only one I kept though)

here tis:

Croup lay on the moist floor, hardly breathing. Still the kicks and taunts of his attacker continued without mercy.

?Get up, yew filthy frog. I dare you. Raise yourself high so we can bring you low again.?

Not wanting to give his tormentor the pleasure, Croup did not even lift his head from floor. Mayhap the beast would see he had had enough and leave him be?

Alas, they had no sense of pity. He was roughly pushed onto his back, and he could see the bully. However he could not sit up because of the paw on his chest.

?You will never get anything out of me,? he croaked. ?Even to the day when I catch my last fly, nothing will I tell.?

?You talk awful silky for a dirty vermin,? the voice sounded haughtier than before. ?Filth like you is always coming up with excuses. Don?t try to say you weren?t doing anything! I saw you just sitting there, watching me. Every time I looked in your direction you would pretend to be doing something else!?

Croup would have raised an eyebrow, if he had had any. Was this beast seriously imagining him to have sinister designs on anybeast?

?It?s not often that I see another beast, you must understand,? Croup explained. His breath was getting slow and ragged, and it was getting harder to see. The pressure on his chest did not seem like it would abate anytime soon either.  ?I am a hermit, by choice I live on my own. Separated from the world, I can survive in peace.?

The footpaw decreased in pressure just a tiny bit. Croup was happy to have that much though, and tasted as much of the free air as he could.

The voice now was less imperious, and more?curious. ?Yes, yes, but what was one of your species doing so far from the dunes in the first place? I never knew a toad to seek the shelter of the forest.?

Croup croaked in disbelief, not understanding how a beast could veer off into such a misguided path. ?Things are not always where you expect them to be. Neither do events always work out in the manner you have proscribed for them.?

The pressure on his foot suddenly was completely gone. With a swiftness one would have thought impossible, Croup leaped onto his belly again.

As he had suspected, there was no sign of his tormentor anywhere. He sighed, having expected this outcome all along.

It could not be any worse timing, could it? Just when he had gotten away from it all, the sins of the past decided to haunt him again?

There was a time to deal with all things.

Croup glared at the empty path, only his prints remaining on the muddy surface.

Half to himself, and half to the empty void he croaked.

?I forgive you.?

Baker was a ferret btw, and uninteresting too. 

I know why I didnt get in. I wasnt putting enough effort into my apps.

Croup was a last minute app too

[Captain Ashpaw]

My fun little last-minute sketch... not surprised I didn't make it.  It's fairly weak, and I ended up banging my head against the wall on my first reread for not making one thing clearer.

EDIT: And yes, one identity hint, right in the app.  

Addison Keskin:

Addison struggled with the broom, trying various positions for his paws; it was taller than him, that was the root of his troubles.  Eventually he settled on dragging it behind him like a domestic sort of sled, its bristles hissing ineffectually on the unpolished wood of the floor.  

He recognized quite a bit of his own orange fur in the rapidly growing mound of dust.  It probably came from his bushy tail, which caught on the rough wood and lost little tufts of loose fur unless he was careful to keep it wrapped around his leg or his waist.  

Addison looked at his pile.  No time to go downstairs and search for the dustpan; he only had a few minutes until guests arrived.  Grasping the broom just above the bristles, Addison herded the dust, leaving it under the dingy bed that occupied one corner.  He dropped the broom in the middle of the floor and shuffled over to a narrow fireplace. Taking bit of flint and tinder from his pocket, he lit a meager fire using the half-burned logs that were already there.  A few clean logs lay nearby.    

?Addison!  Have you finished yet??  His mother?s voice called up the stairs.  

?Yes, I?ll be down in a moment!?  He grabbed the broom and returned it to its place before marching proudly down the stairs.

?Thank you, Addison, you?re such a great help.?  She beckoned his over to her and pulled him into a warm yet tired embrace.  Addison wrapped his arms around her, careful to avoid the spikes on her back.  

?Who?s the guests??  

?That?s ?who are the guests?? and there are quite a few, I think.  That pretty ottermaid who makes necklaces out of seashells?I don?t quite remember her name??

?Seafoam??  

?Yes, that?s it.  And Birch will be here late tonight, and Corwin tomorrow morning.?  

?We?ll be busy then,? the little fox proclaimed.  

?Yes, we will.  I had been worried, we hadn?t very many guests this summer.?  

Addison nodded.  They?d been short on food some seasons since Father had gone off to Dark Forest, wherever that was.  Addison wished he?d come back and make sure they?d not go hungry.  Whatever Father was doing must be important, to be gone for six seasons now.  

Somebeast knocked at the door.  

?Addison, dear, answer that for me, won?t you??  

Addison strode over to the front door of their little inn, and pulled it wide.  On the other side was somebeast he?d never seen before.  She looked like a big version of him; red-orange fur with mostly-white paws and a long bushy tail.  Unlike him, she hadn?t washed in quite some time, and he could smell musk, earth, and smoke on her.  Both surprised, they stared at one another for a long moment.    

?Who are??  

?Out!  Get out, you filthy vermin!? Addison?s mother shrieked, wielding the broom like a battle axe, smacking the vixen along her muzzle.  Surprised, the vixen stepped away from the door and Addison responded quite sensibly by slamming it shut.  

Mother stood at the door, broom in her trembling paws, breathing heavily.  

?Mother?  She looked??  

Addison trailed off and no reply came.  The creature at the door had looked just like him, from ears to tailtip, only older and female.  And why had Mother driven her off like that?  Couldn?t she have been a guest?  And?

?Mother??  

?Yes.  Yes, I know.  I?ll?I?ll tell you when you?re older,? she finished lamely.  Mother said that a lot.  

[Ms Pearl]

Actually I'm rather proud of myself. Ms Pearl's app was the 3rd longest over at RS and I managed to keep this one under 500 words. I just had to go and pick a squirrel.

And yes, Balmafula, I did know that it was a Hebrew name. I wanted a treeish name for a squirrel and googled "baby names trees". Turns out that Eilat means 'a grove of tall trees'. Funny thing is I was on a furry RP site once where the squirrel plot reminded me a lot of the Babylonian captivity. (I think I was reading the book of Daniel at the time) And I named my charrie there Hadassah. So I do have a thing for giving squiggles Hebrew names.

anywho without further ado:

Eilat ? squirrelmaid ? dressmaker's apprentice

Eilat sighed and stared at the row of tiny perfect stitches on the garment in her lap. She just couldn't bring herself to rip them out. How was I to know the customer needed a size 13? The squirrelmaid apprentice had distinctly heard the dressmaker tell Madam Tallow that she required a size 3. 

The slap the dressmaker had given her apprentice still stung. Eilat raised a paw to her cheek and felt that the fur there was also wet with tears. Why is nothing I do good enough for her?

There was nothing wrong with the dress. Eilat had seen her trademistress admiring the workbeastship when she had first presented the finished garment. But the only praise she had been given was, ?We'll see what the customer has to say about it.?

Eilat had watched anxiously from the workroom door when Madam Tallow arrived to try on her dress. And she shared the fat beast's mortification when the mistress tried to stuff her into the garment that was obviously much too small. If I had known I could have made her the perfect dress. I could have made her look beautiful.

The squirrelmaid couldn't understand the look of smug satisfaction that she was given when the dressmaker told her to, ?Take out every stitch and make it again properly. I won't loose a valuable customer for your incompetence.?

Eilat set her jaw and poised one claw over the first stitch to do just that. Before she could do it, however, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror across the workroom. Without knowing exactly what possessed her to do so, the squirrelmaid stood and held up the dress in front of her slim frame. Then looking around quickly to make sure she was not being observed, the apprentice took her defiance a step further.

Her plain apprentice's garb came off over her head and the squirrelmaid donned the gown she had so painstakingly stitched with her own paws. Again she looked in the mirror amazed at the transformation.

?Hey is there . . .? The baker's kit from the shop down the road looked into the room but stopped short when he saw her. ?I 'pologize, M'lady.? He averted his gaze from the splendidly dressed female. ?I didn' know there was no beast back here.?

Eilat almost giggled with delight, but instead she looked down on the young otter imperiously and spoke in her best high-born accent, ?Well as you can see there is somebeast here so unless you would like me to call the constable, I suggest you leave at once.?

?Yes, M'lady. O'course. Right away, yer worship.?

The squirrelmaid did allow herself a laugh once he was gone. O what a feeling of power this dress gave her. There was no way she was going to rip it apart for scrap. 

[IPlanToBiteYou]

Unlike you guys, I know exactly why mine didn't make it in. :P I did entertain the chance of getting one into the Nine back when there were only twenty-odd applications, but nooo. That was not going to happen with forty. :P


So here we have the female squirrel version of Rambo - Elin Sarkozy:

"For too long now, we have had an uncertainty about existence, a lack of faith in the visible, a suspicion of the eternal."

The Sovereign Queen spoke to her subjects, representatives from every clime and every forest in the known world, on a dais just seven strides from where Elin Sarkozy stood in full dress uniform, a newly forged spatha on her right hip and a brace of throwing darts on her left.

"Together we will be architects of a new age of permanence."

But there was a disturbance in the crowd. Sampetra hopped off the platform, and headed straight for the ruck. Terramort quickly followed suit. The others, Sarkozy included, watched on, ready to jump in if anything went wrong.

There was a swish, a smack of flesh, and Mossflower dropped dead where he stood, an arrow jutting out of his back.

His back!

Sarkozy heard Hinterland whimper in pain as she whirled on the spot, bellowed "Distraction!" and launched herself up the wooden construct holding the Queen's dais.

"My Lady," she panted on reaching the summit only seconds later. "Your guards are dying. You must get to a safe place before there are none left to stand between you and the arrows."

A nod from the Sovereign Queen. She held out her paw, and Sarkozy grabbed it and bodily hauled the Queen with her as she flung herself back off the platform onto the decking below. They both landed awkwardly, but Sarkozy was back on her paws quickest and yanked the Queen just ten more places before stopping her with an even blow from the flat of her paw, to the Queen's sternum.

"Noonvale! Lever!" The grey male heard and knocked a small lever to the side with a well-aimed kick from where he lay prone, avoiding arrows.

The Queen plunged out of sight, audibly crying out as she hit the bottom.

Loamhedge came from somewhere behind Sarkozy. "Sampetra and Terramort nailed the archer, we seem to be safe now."

And then another cry of pain came from below, and both squirrels looked down. Sarkozy snarled, quickstepped back three paces as Loamhedge hammered another lever, plunging Sarkozy into darkness.

The bright sun had an advantage. There was diffuse orange light all around. It was as though she had fallen into a sweltering autumn forest. And there were two silhouettes, one next to the other, roughly equal height and build, both silent. The attacker was clever.

Her nose twitched. "Not clever enough." She lunged forward and bore the leftmost figure to the ground. As soon as she made contact, it started to struggle, but it was too young and weak. Very soon, it gave up. And very soon, it tried words.

"You're insane!" The voice was shrill, female, the accent was southern. "She's lying to you all. She's dangerous! She'll make us slaves!"

"I have served eight seasons as guard captain, six as lieutenant and thirteen as garrison, and you dare to tell me that the Queen's words are dangerous? We let three hundred beasts die at Peleus!"

"Mont Peleus," the red hissed in her ear, "was the best thing we ever did. The other races cannot survive without us. This is our playground! All of it!" And she lunged. Before the dagger could make contact, her eyes dimmed and she slumped into the dusty ground.

"This is no playground. Beasts will never live and die on our whim again." Elin Sarkozy stood, and pulled her spatha from the limp form before her. "We have been cruel enough."

And here's a hideous goody-goody-two-shoes, The Promise of Rain:

"There are shrew tribes, hidden in the highest mountains, who have never seen grass. Can you believe that? What would happen if they ever did see it?" The mousemaid grinned at Michael. "And yet, they can mount an eagle in flight, and ride it, and strike the smaller birds from the sky for food."

She took a step forward, just one. Then the motion of the boat stopped her as she tried to keep her balance. Her young eyes fell on a squirrel with his head in a book. "See? There's one who can do what another can't. I tried to read on the first few days of the trip, but I felt terribly ill. Because this motion is not a part of who I am. I'm not used to the swaying of a boat, like the otters, or of a tree, like the squirrels. Oh, I'm talking too much again..."

Michael did not speak. He'd boarded a couple of days ago, as the barge took the widest part of the River Moss on the way to the sea. They had been friends since childhood, he and Promise. He had never spoken a word, and she had spoken enough for both of them.

Michael just smiled, and Promise grinned at him. "You always forgive me. Thankyou." He nodded, reached out and took hold of her paw, and pulled gently.

The mice went up on deck, Michael leading. The ship's carpenter was at work, replacing a cluster of boards close to the prow. Michael stared, and Promise followed his gaze, then chuckled and ran forward. "Excuse me, master Carpenter?"

---

The end of the journey drew closer. Michael had salvaged a old, slightly rotten decking plank and was carving with the chisel they had borrowed from the ship's carpenter. Promise was writing, a little documentary on the shrews who had sent them off on the first leg of their journey. Hours drifted away, left behind on the ocean waves.

The cry came from the crow's nest. Promise did not even notice, Michael scowled and sped up. Moments later, he blew away the last of the wood shavings and tapped three times on the desk. Promise looked up this time, saw his expression and came over. "What is i... oh!"

It was a timeline. Icons loving carved out, two small mice walking along the plank. There was a short while where only one mouse walked, and it started on the barge. Michael tapped that image, then flipped the plank over to more images, starting there, of a mouse's head, looking down with his mouth closed. As the images moved across, the mouse looked more alert and his mouth opened. And then he disappeared. Michael tapped the image, flipped the plank, and there were two mice again.

Promise had tears in her eyes, but she smiled and nodded. "I... I can't wait to hear your voice," she said, and then hugged him tight.

The sounds of mooring came from above, and the carpenter stuck his head round the doorframe. "Missy, we're here."

Promise nodded, squeezed Michael one more time, planted a kiss on his cheek, and turned and ran.

---

A retinue greeted her on the shore. She reached out, took the paw of the guard commander, smiled and shook it. "Redwall sends her greetings, Commander. I am your new emissary, I will be assisting in diplomatic and domestic issues."

The guard commander nodded, released her paw. "In the name of the King, we welcome The Promise of Rain."

[Cairn Destop]

I only submitted one application, but had so much fun with it that I even went ahead and wrote my first post.  Would have been amusing tweaking the ending to match whatever story the administrators designed.

My character was Hazenval, a fennic fox who led a band of caravan raiders.  Then, disguised as a hare thanks to fur dye and a set of false teeth, would deliver the merchandise and collect the fees.  My character's one fault was alcohol, he loved to drink.

For clarification, the name Hazenval is a truncated version of a sentence I had Babble Fish translate.  In Dutch, his name would mean "This hare is a fake."  One other thing I'm proud of is that there are no adverbs or passive voice anywhere in the writing, with the exception of dialogue.  That is for both the application and the "pending first posting."

[Stonewall]

I'm not certain if this is the thread to give my own personal juding type analysis of the apps, but if you'd all like me to reveal the workings of my mind, I could. Or if you want me to mind my own business, I can do that too. I'm flexible.

[Kenner]

I would love to see the workings of your mind.  please?  review?  something?

[shorestar]

I'll try to come by later and share my judge-ly opinions of these apps as well, then?

[Kenner]

please do!

[Cricket Argyll]

Would love you both forever for opinion-sharing, Stonewall and Shorey. =D

[Stonewall]

Alrighty, Kenner. Ask and you shall recieve.

With Lykke, I found that there was more focus on the past than the present; that is, you explained what had already happened in great detail, but in doing so, you slowed down the pace of the app, and it read more like a summary of a story than an engaging narrative. I would personally avoid referencing flash backs in an application like this at all; the character is what is important, and should be fleshed out, and the past can come later.

Also, with the characters, I actually found myself learning more about Talon than I did about Lykke. We know Talon's a player, a gambler, well to do, etc. But we don't know a whole lot about Lykke, other than she's running away, and is scared. On that note, I felt that we didn't get inside Lykke's head, or felt her thoughts. I liked how you used short sentences to give the impression of running and shortness of breath, but we don't get an idea of how she sees the world, or what she's thinking, or any great deal about here at all. To sum it up, she doesn't seem like the focus of the application; rather, the story is the focus, and Lykke is merely a means to that end.

For Alethia, the biggest thing, which might not even be fair, is that I felt you upstaged Ali with the more prominent, active character of the teacher. Again, that's not a completely fair thing to say, as it seems to be in Ali's character to be passive and react rather than command, but I felt that all the drive in the scene came from the teacher and what she wanted, rather than the pupil trying to accomplish something.

Characterwise, I actually liked what you showed of Alethia; unlike Lykke, we see Alethia react, see her personality, and get to know a little more about her (ie, she's either a liar, or insane). What killed it for me (kill is a strong word, but it's all I could come up with) was when she smiles at the end in anticipation of her beating. Up until then, she had tried to prove she was innocent; indeed, she believed her lies to the point where, if she was flogged, it would be an injustice. But then she just takes the beating with a smile, which is almost admitting she knows she has it coming. And seeing as the main interest of the character was her conviction of her being right, having this failure in her beliefs just took the bottom out of the barrel.

[Kenner]

Hmm, Thanks much! 

With Ali, what I wanted to get across most, was that she lies about everything, and I was trying to show with her smile was that she lied even about that.  So I guess I'll have to work on that more.

Much appreciation!