Cut apps thread

[multiplemint]

Wanna share your poor unfortunate rejects? Post 'em here.

ETA: Anywho, feel free to share as many of your apps that didn't get in as you like. Or not. Keep the mystery alive.

[multiplemint]

HEY VIN, REMEMBER WHEN YOU SAID THAT SOMEONE COULDN'T DO AN APP IN VERSE -- AND ESPECIALLY NOT AS A SONG?

Meet Coralbell.

To the tune of Marty Robbins' "Big Iron".

--

It was six and dozen seasons since that fateful storm did brew,
not a storm of wind and rain, but one of claw, fur, and sinew:
'Twas a wildcat gang arriving,
And they drove good beasts to hide.
With no one to dare oppose them they would seize the countryside

Word got out to find a savior that could drive the vermin back,
one who would not falter from the overwhelming horde's attack.
There was was not one there among them,
So they searched both hill and vale,
'Til the word got to a hero who could help them without fail.

Coralbell, he was a slinger from the North of some renown,
and he heard about their troubles and he started trekking down;
traveled south with his companions,
though they numbered only four,
and he knew to claim a vict'ry they would need the help of more.

Though the wind is cold and biting and the rain does not relent,
Coralbell thought, seems my troupe is just about completely spent.
Though a camp might be inviting,
he knew that they must press on.
They could make it to the shore if they kept marching until dawn.

First they stopped along the west coast to a tribe of otterfolk,
Who they knew could shoot a slingstone sure as they could tie a rope.
With a hills a-swarm with vermin
he would need a stalwart band
to put down the growing threat and drive the evil from the land

Though he stood less than a sapling, Coralbell put forth a roar
that the beasts could hear from woodland all the way down to the shore:
"Come on out and face the greatest
beast to ever shoot a stone,"
Coralbell called out their Skipper and would face the beast alone.

He stood twice as tall as Coral and was thrice again as wide,
but old Coral knew that half that was the beast's inflated pride.
"If I beat the best among you,
You will swear to me your swords
You will join us on our journey to remove that feline horde."

Skipper leaned down most to crouching so to meet the mouse's gaze,
and his toothy grin it flashed enough to pierce the morning haze.
"I ain't never lost at slinging,
and I sure won't lose to you.
I'll be dead before I let some bumpkin mouse direct my crew."

He stood tall and pointed at a rocky outcropping of stone
"'Less you've got the range to reach it you'll be walking back alone --"
Coral cut short Skipper's boasting;
sent a rock right past the place.
"Shall we start a proper contest?" He grinned to the otter's face.

Skipper growled behind his whiskers. "Very well, let us begin."
Soon a driftwood target stood where ev'ry otter once had been.
"Simply land more shots than I can,"
Skipper said, and whirled his sling.
Coral gave a nod, then matched the other leader swing for swing.

They took turns selecting targets from among the coastal dunes;
it was clear within a moment that the contest would end soon.
Coral flung a second bullet
soon as Skipper let his fly,
And it knocked the otter chieftan's clear right out the morning sky.

With a heavy plop the otter captain fell unto his knees
Coralbell reached up and gave the otter's shoulder a light squeeze.
"'Twas an honor slinging with you,
but we came to ask your aid.
Come and join us pushing back the southern vermin's savage raid."

---

(And, yes, this should pretty much perfectly match the rhythm of that song, and does match the syllable count and rhyme scheme of it.)

[Vin]

It's beautiful, Mint. Beautiful, I say.

I also have an app for y'all. There are two (2!) things about it I instantly regretted after submitting it. One of these is worse than the other...though maybe not.

Cecil Farrah
Seafarer

Some days you wake up not knowing how the scars on your fists got there or where the ache in your spines came from. Today was just one of those days, Cecil reckoned. He lay on his back, blinking away the grogginess of sleep. Raising his head, he found himself surrounded by metal bars. "What in 'ellgates..." he muttered. Shaking his head, he tried to piece together the events of the previous night. A thumping headache, though, prevented him from focusing.

After another futile attempt at recollection he tried to pick himself up. As he hauled himself off the floor, the ground pitched and he fell forward. He crashed into the bars, spines rattling at the impact. Stepping backward unsteadily, he grabbed at the bars for balance and closed his eyes. Stars danced and spun across his shuttered eyelids.

Suddenly, the sound of a door slamming open seared through his head, and a booming laugh pierced through the brig. "So yer finally awake," said a rumbling voice that echoed like thunder in his skull. He opened his eyes to find a hulking sea otter fumbling with a set of keys.

"Aw, could ye keep it down, Beck?" asked Cecil.

The otter just laughed again and opened the cell door. "C'mon, Cee. Cap needs ye on the bridge."

"Yeah, yeah,"  Cecil muttered. "Say, mate, why am I in the brig? Can't seem ta recall."

Beck tugged at his ear as he led the hedgehog toward the door. "Ain'tcha remember? Ya got inter a right scrap with that rat—" he paused briefly to spit on the floor— "who bosun's fer th' Goshawk. Screamin' fit ta burst, ye were, ready ta murder th' poor beast." He stopped at the door and cocked his head. "Not that a scaly-tailed bilgeswiller like that ain't deserve it. Anyways," he continued, "We drug ye back ter th' ship, figured we'd toss ye in here 'til ya stopped all yer ragin'."

Cecil groaned. "Cap ain't gonna be happy, huh?" he asked.

Once again, Beck simply laughed. He threw open the door and lamplight stabbed at Cecil's eyes, leaving the hedgehog blinking at the sudden brightness. Beck led him stumbling across deck and up to the bridge, where a mouse with a dashing feathered cap and a bright red coat obesrved them through narrowed eyes as they approached.

"Mister Farrah," said the captain cooly. "Glad you finally decided to join us." Cecil opened his mouth to apologize, but the mouse waved his words away, gesturing at the sky. "What do you make of it?"

Cecil's gaze followed the captain's paw to a brilliant green aurora swirling across the sky. Its tendrils appeared to spread like wings from a gaping mouth at the center, just above the horizon. "Looks like a bird, doesn't it?" he mused.

"Or a dragon," Beck muttered darkly. "Can't mean nothin' good, Cap'n Willum, sah."

Cecil shrugged. "Could mean this or that. Ain't seen nothin' like it meself, but I've heard ye see lights like this up north sometimes." He paused, surveying the horizon. "Sky looks clear enough, though. Shouldn't be a problem fer sailin', at least."

Willum nodded. "Keep the course, then, Mister Farrah." When he reached the stairs to the deck, he looked back at Cecil. "And stay off the drink. None of these other brutes know right from left." Cecil winced as the captain turned and walked away.

"This or that, huh?" asked Beck, raising an eyebrow.

"Ye know Cap ain't one for superstition," Cecil said. He shook his head grimly. "If ye ask me, though? We'd best be on our toes, mate. We're headed straight for that dragon's maw." 

[The Grey Coincidence]

[spoiler=Barumtum, Mole, Berserker]"Doan't be afeared marm, oi'm coomin' 'ome!" The massive mole sang in a voice as thick and rough as gravel and as pleasing to the ear as claws against a grindstone. "Em'ty bullied, matted fur'ed an' brooken bomed!"

Barumtum stopped singing abruptly and turned to a tapping at his elbow. "Zurr Globby!" He cried, greeting the by-comparison-miniscule bartender.

"Barumtum." The stoat swallowed audibly. As always, he was shivering. "I- I wanted ter t-talk ab-about yer singin'."

"Oo ar! Oi loikes zingin'!" He cried, clapping his digging claws together excitedly.  "Oi'd lurve t' talk!"

"Right well I-I was going t-t-t' i-if you could- st-stop- W-when ye sing c-could ye d-dewit d-diff'ren- l'like n-not b-aaaa-d"

The gigantic mole raised an eyebrow and Globby could not take it anymore. He had swept up enough teeth to know when to back down and let Barumtum be Barumtum.

"Please keep singing!" He cried, suppressing a whimper.

"Ho hurr! O' course" The mole laughed heartily and patted Globby hard on the back, hard enough to knock the stoat off his feetpaws. "Oi'll never stoap!"

The stoat slunk back behind the counter, his ears lowered in defeat and his tail glued between his legs.

"Doan't be afeared marm, oi'm coomin' 'ome." Barumtum began to sing once more, with newfound gusto.

Several ears in the crowd twitched in discomfort but most of his regular patrons knew by now to tune the humongous mole out and say nothing about the music.

Unfortunately there was always the irregular patron.

"Oi! Stinkface! Shut it before me ears pop!" Cried a particularly inebriated weasel, egged on by the vermin around him.

Barumtum hesitated, his head lowering. "Oi beg yon pah-don?"

"Ye heard me! I asked ye te shut yer piehole."

Barumtum flinched, but steeled himself. Tears stung at his eyes. "Burr- b-but oi loikes zingin'..."

"I don't give a fig about what ye like!" The vermin sneered. By now the regular patrons, who had seen this happen a dozen times already, were remembering appointments and racing for the door.

"Quit hurtin' our ears! Ye couldn't sing te save yer life."

The mole curled in on himself. No, no, no! It was happening again! He could smell the rotten fruit bursting against his fur, he could hear the jeering of the crowd.

"Say yore zorry." Barumtum begged, trying to shake away the memory, the little carriage rolling off into the sunset without him.

Were he more sober Spitface might have. As it was he spat in the musician's direction and grinned. "Sorry it's the truth."



Barumtum leapt off the stage without another word. Only now did the weasel seem to realize how big he was. It was too late to back down.

Barumtum stood over him, breathing heavily. In a voice deeper than usual, he snarled.  "Oi'll 'urt 'ee naow."

Before the weasel could process what he'd just heard, he was grabbed by the front and thrown against a table. Neither the weasel's nose, nor the furniture, survived the impact.

Spitface screamed.

"Shut thy poi 'ole!" The mole snarled, and stomped hard upon the vermin's back.

A rat made the mistake of coming to the weasel's assistance, and shattered a chair over Barumtum's head. Grabbing hold of Spitface's tail, the mole swung him into the rat with extreme prejudice.

Barumtum's eyes glazed over and began to burn with a wild excitement. Cracking his knuckles, he turned towards the remaining creatures within the bar.


"Oi urthenquaker'ed throi churrs an' two toibles. Moibe six bomes. Oi'm zorry Globby zurr." Barumtum sniffed, and tugged at his snout in shame.

"It's f-f-fine..." The stoat squeaked, too terrified of his sole employee to complain about the damage[/spoiler].



[spoiler=Rolf, Mouse, Duelist]
The crowd roared with pleasure as, with a meticulously co-ordinated jab-thrust-punch combo, the large rat deftly disarmed his opponent (not literally). Said opponent, a mouse, fell upon the floor with an overdramatic cry of pain.

Rolf was used to all the noise. The bruises, the pain. The inevitable defeat. Losing was, after all, in the job description.

"Who's de best?" Came the voice of his opponent, the rat's nosering swinging left and right. Down upon the floor Rolf rolled his eyes. "Who's de champion?"

The crowd roared back with just as much ferocity. "Ralph! Ralph! Ralph!"

"I can't 'ear ye!"

"RAAAAAALPH!"

"Raaaaalph." Rolf muttered from the floor. The rat's name was ringing between his ears. Wherever they went, all he ever heard was 'Ralph, Ralph, Ralph' with a side-dish of 'haha it's the loser!'

But I guess I should have thought about that before taking the job...

"Nobeast kin challenge me!" Ralph thumped his chest. "Remember that pipsqueak!"

And now he hits me...

The rat brought his tail crashing down upon the 'helpless' mouse.

And now I beg for mercy...

That was always the worst part. Being payed to say things like 'please oh great and powerful Ralph, mercy, mercy' had been a pretty fair way of making a living for a while, but Rolf was sick of it. The very thought of doing it again was revolting.

Just once... I'd love to have the spotlight...

"I said remember that pipsqueak!" Ralph repeated, now bringing his foot down upon the downed mouse with extreme prejudice.

Not this time Ralph... not this time...

"Hey Ralph!" The mouse pushed himself to his feetpaws, to the astonishment of the crowd and the big rat. The vermin's jaw dropped, his nosering beginning to shake again.  "Thought I'd let you know a few things." The mouse clenched his fist, drew his arm back and delivered the single most powerful haymaker in the history of rodent combat!

The crowd grew wild again, hopping about and cheering. Finally, a worthy opponent!
"You hit... way too hard." Rolf chuckled, his own paw sore from the ferocity of his blow. "And that irritates me." Before the stunned Ralph could think of a reply, Rolf turned on the spot, bringing his whip-like tail into the vermin's face. "Lousy, isn't it? Being the one on the losing side? Try and remember that, the next time you're rubbing your 'victory' in." The mouse next delivered a swift pair of jabs directly to the rat's nose. "It makes me mad to see you on top. It angers me. Coz deep down, you know I'm a better fighter than you." Rolf turned to the crowd. "I let him win! Every. Single. Time! And you know what? I am done!"

He brought another fist into Ralph's jaw, knocking a tooth loose. The roar of the crowd was deafening.

"I am done with losing!" Rolf cried, lost in the moment. "Done begging for mercy! From here on in you won't see me on the floor!" He bathed in the glow of their cheers. "My destiny is in my paws and victory is at hand!" Gonna have to work on the speeches... "Oh and Ralph?" Rolf placed his paw upon the vermin's nosering. "I quit." Rolf drew his arm back swiftly, and there was a terrible noise. Ralph screamed. The crowd cheered. And in his paw the mouse held a bloody nosering.

"I saaaaid, remember that pipsqueak!" Ralph repeated, kicking the mouse again. By now the crowd was much less interested in the two.

Suddenly remembering himself Rolf sighed wistfully, before continuing with the act. "Mercy, mercy. Oh Ralph the Great!"


[/spoiler]

[Waycaster]

[spoiler=Therion]"The key to the future is a hard one to grasp." Therion sughed, rubbing his paws, before remembering too late the ropes were yet tied behind his back.

"Well, we know that, fancy vermin." The marten's sciurine captors were simple-minded fools who did not know what they claimed not to know, and even part of what they claim to. The Gawtrybe were fools, all of them, with their minds only on entertainment.

Therion would have to put on a good show for them - or more accurately, him. They were too foolish to post more than one interrogator - not that it mattered.

"Well, you see, Vulpuz impacts this world in mysterious ways. But I daresay you would know that as well." The marten tried to gesture with a paw, but all his squiggling yielded no results. He would have to accept that they were bound for the moment.

The squirrel chieftain nodded. Therion had paid his name no mind, as he was finding a way to sleep when he and his inflated pride were introducing themselves. "Then what would my destiny be, so-called wise marten?"

"I need to move closer to you to tell the truth." Therion smirked. This was not the most elegant of schemes, but Therion's options were limited.

"Why?"

Because I want you to. "Because I need to see your paws for that to work. With my previous experience with squirrel clients, squirrels have four different types of paws." The lies flowed on and on. "Depends on lots of things."

"And which one am I?" The chieftain's voice was more of a distraction than a question.

"That remains to be seen." Therion grinned. "Now, your paw, please." The squirrel obliged, showing his paw slow enough to allow Therion to conjure up a few more falsehoods.

"Well, let's see." The marten's brain stopped spinning. "Vulpuz clearly has something big planned for you, great chief." The first part of an act was to attract attention.

"Oh? What would that be? I want to know!" The squirrel took the bait, and Therion was all too glad to reel him in.

"You have paws of fire, great one. Short and stubby claws, and ruddy pawpads. Brave squirrels have these."

"What would that mean?" The squirrel's eyes hovered right up to Therion's eyes, searching for the smallest flick of deception in them. He couldn't find any, of course. The marten hid thoughts well, even if he would say so himself.

"That's a highly guarded secret, even amongst us seers." The marten illustrated his points with a little flick of a claw, which, given that his paws were still bound, lay unseen.

"So you don't know the truth?" The chief asked.

"I know the truth very well!" I don't feel like telling it though. "I just don't want it to spread too far."

"Then tell it. Just to me."

"So be it, mighty one." The squirrel leaned closer, and Therion hid a grimace at the sight of his repulsive face.

"The truth is that you're the Taggerung." Therion moved a paw. He was free. The last few minutes were not spent on words alone.

"Tag-er-run?" The squirrel was not familiar with the term, for which Therion delivered an elegant mental kick to himself. But it was too late to change things.

"In Juskirr, it means 'idiot'." Before the woodlander could react, the marten spun towards him, shedding broken ropes in the process, and had a paw around his neck. It was not long before the woodlander went down without a sound.

Massaging his sore paws, the marten bought himself a smile. Time to go.
[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Falwyn]
"You struck me five times, while I hit you thrice. You win this time." Falwyn's breaths were rough. "Consider yourself my worthiest student."

"Wait, really?" Dennel was a beast who seldom knew what he was doing, but he certainly had the markings to be a swordsbeast on his own.

"Yes, really."

"Thank you!" The squirrel shouted in jubilation. earning no reaction on his teacher's muzzle, marred by the simple scar that passed above an eye. That, and the brand on his face. "That was quite the move! It broke your defences immediately."

"That's simply because I wasn't expecting you to use it. It took a week to tell you how bad it is, and I thought you would've listened to me by now." Falwyn had to be honest with himself - the last duel was a testament to his slowly receding abilities. His abilities were slipping away.

The squirrel grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Master Falwyn. I couldn't beat you without the move."

"Drop 'Master', Dennel." The fox picked up his practice blade, which had been lying aside, cast onto the ground after practice. "And your offence was brilliantly planned and executed. It just leaves you wide open in the end. A pity I beat you the last five times we fought today. Or was that six?"

"Five. But I dodged your counters! Most of them, anyway."

"Because you're young. And agile. And you knew what you were doing." Falwyn frowned. "When I was a mere hordebeast, I was neither the first two. Or the third for that matter."

"That's why Father captured you, right?" The squirrel pointed at the fox's head, not at the scar, but on the brand on the other side of his face.

"Yes." The ropes that chafed against his paws, his fruitless struggling, the sound of a hot iron...

"Falwyn? Master Falwyn?" Dennel's voice wrenched the fox away from his memories.

"Just Falwyn!" The fox felt his heartbeat subside. "And you mustn't use the move you used on me. Not on anybeast else! Never!"

"Why?"

"Do you fancy getting yourself bisected?" The fox spat. "What gave you the idea to let your foe strike with impunity? Creatures could die from the smallest of mistakes! Hellgates, I've killed beasts who fancied themselves swordmasters!"

"But what if winning gets more important than surviving?" Dennel stood up. "What if you want something more than life? Say, if I'm standing between you and freedom-?"

"I don't think I'll be fighting to kill you, Dennel." Falwyn got on his footpaws as well. "You begged for me to teach you before your father could liberate my head from my neck."

"Surely you haven't grown attached to me or anything?"

"Nothing of the sort." Was the squirrel that desperate for a teacher back then? He should have waited for somebeast else, not some fox scrounged up from a horde. "Just stay defensive and you'll be good to go in any duel. Parry and not die. Don't be fancy."

Dennel smiled again - the woodlander was too fond of smiles. "You make it sound all too easy."

Falwyn pointed towards his own face. "Overcomplicating everything gave me this. Don't trip yourself up. Be patient. Wait. You'll thank me in the long run."

"I prefer now." Dennel smirked. "Thanks for everything you've taught me, Falwyn."

Falwyn forced a smile. "You're making this sappy, Dennel. Still, many thanks for saving me."

Of course, it would have been better if Dennel decided to free him here and now - but Falwyn decided to follow his own advice. He would be patient and wait until freedom comes.

And then what?

[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Reinmar]
"That's it?" Reinmar let the sack of coins plummet onto the table, the sound of it crashing down covering up the ring of silver within. "Twenty?"

"It's a fair price for a hired blade." The squirrel merchant waved a paw in the air. Halmer was a proud beast. Like all mice, he was stubborn; and like all merchants, he was stingy.

"You call that fair?" The mouse slammed his fist down. I had to kill fifteen vermin for you, while you and your companions sat and cowered!"

"Well, that's why you hired you, self-professed 'guardian'." Halmer scoffed. "You weren't that good of a guard anyway." He took a sip from his tankard, a reward from the nearest alehouse from his good relationship with the proprietor.

"Oh?" Reinmar crossed his paws. "What would make you say that?"

"You let too many vermin escape!"

"Two! Since when is two 'many'?"

"One is too many!" Halmar downed the tankard. "Any one of them could be from a horde! Just a tip, and we will have a few scores of vermin upon us! And what will you call that?"


"A fair fight." The mouse lifted up his hammer. "That would be a real challenge." He put the weapon down slowly, careful not to let it smash through the floorboards. "But none of them were from any horde."

"That's because I changed our route, boulder-pawed fool!" Reinmar stood still as the squirrel ranted on and on. "You would have seen or heard that we had to turn a left or two, so nobody would have followed us. Your eyes are small, and your brain makes your eyes the size of Salamandastron!"

"Your desire to hold onto your wealth could blanket the sky." The hired guard felt a paw slip towards his warhammer - an urge that he corrected, choosing to place both of them by the table. Now is not the time for violence.

"You overreach yourself!" The squirrel countered.

"I overreach you." Without effort, Reinmar's paw shot up, and soon he had the squirrel, now lifted up, by the collar. For once, he was glad there was nobeast else in the room.

"Now listen, merchant." The mouse spat. "Do you believe I can kill you? Here and now? Without my hammer or any steel, and only with my bare paws?"

"You- you wouldn't!" The squirrel was breathing heavily, to the annoyance of Reinmar. "You swore to protect me!"

"That debt was paid!" With a grunt, Halmer was sprawling atop the table, Reinmar's paw still over his throat. "I don't think I even need to move a muscle to kill you. You, being the coward that you are, might die simply because I want you to. You need no other reason, after all." Lying through his teeth was easier than Reinmar remembered, but the signs of deception were still obvious. Trembling paws. Blinking eyes. Those signals betrayed him, but the squirrel was too afraid to care.

"Fine! Fine! Take your hundred!" Reinmar let go, and the squirrel caught his breath. Throwing another sack of coin to the mouse, the merchant could consider himself fortunate. Halmer may have lost more than he was willing, but he was yet hale and hearty. Were Reinmar still his past self, the squirrel would have been a shade of a corpse.

"You lied." Halmer panted. "You are no guardian. Your oaths poison those you claim to defend."

"Even in the greatest disgrace, I will protect those should be protected." Reinmar picked up his weapon, and hoped that he need not use it this night. "And you are not one of them."
[/spoiler]

[Vera Silvertooth]

Can I just say that I am so happy I don't have to worry about writing a mole accent!

Mully Stonbrek - Mole - Female - 19
[spoiler]BOOM

Mully covered her ears. The wham of the vermins' battering ram on the barricaded tunnel door echoed through the mine. Dirt skittered down the walls like insects. Tarthul, the Long Patrol hare who'd promised to help, sneezed twice from the falling dust.

As the sound faded, Foremole tugged his snout. "We'm b'ain't foighters, zurr. We'm doan't be have'n warpens. Onerly tools."

"Stout hearts, stiff upper lips, an' all that! Blighters ain't here for a bloomin' picnic an' they aren't going to wait for our reinforcements. All you fine mole chaps will have to give 'em wot for, wot! Who'll stand with me an' hold back these vermin back?"

Silence.

Mully gulped. Around her, paws shifted in the hard packed earth of the tunnels. Dark button eyes turned down.

BOOM

Mully thought of her family, hiding deep in the mine. They wouldn't stand a chance if the vermin found them. Somebeast had to protect them.

So, she stepped forward.

BOOM

"Nay, choild!" Foremole rested a blunt claw on her shoulder. "You'm b'ain't foight'n."

Mully scowled. "Oi be doin' a grown molers wurk all seasern. Oi b'ain't big, nar tall, boit Oi b'ain't lett'n moi famberly be hurted."

"That's th' ticket, wot!" Tarthul said. "Wot's yer name, miss?"

"Mully, zurr."

The hare twitched his ears at the rest. "Who's gonna stand with Mully an' me?"

BOOM

By ones and twos, other moles stepped forward.

They gathered their tools. Mully hefted a digging bar. All season, she'd used the long iron pole's broad chisel tip on the stone. Its weight rested solid in her claws. She brought it to Tarthul.

"Now that's the ticket!" He took it from her and thrust it like a spear. "Here's what we'll do, Mully m'gel. If they make a charge, put this blunt end against your footpaw, hold the point out, an' aim it at their flabby guts. If they get closer, whack 'em with the blunt end." He illustrated what he wanted her to do.

BOOM

The thought dried Mully's mouth. Her digging claws trembled as she took back the bar.

"Right, me fine fighting moles." Tarthul rallied them. "Stand firm. Give 'em the old blood an' vinegar."

BOOM CRACK

An ugly cheer roared outside.

Mully closed her eyes tight. She pictured her family. They'd be safe. She wouldn't let them be hurt. She'd stand. She'd fight.

She opened her eyes.

With a crash, a breech appeared in the door. Tarthul drew his saber.

The iron-capped battering ram drew back. Two rats squeezed through the crack. Two big moles rushed forward with pickaxes.

The rats died.

"Eulaliaaaa!" Tarthul yelled.

The vermin flood came.

Mully fought as Tarthul had told her, screaming as she jabbed at every vermin in reach. Tarthul darted in and out among them, dispatching vermin with cold efficiency.

Then, a ferret got a spear into the hare's leg and he fell.

"Boi blud an' boi 'okey!" Mully screeched and charged, driving her digging pole's chisel into the ferret.

Tarthul staggered up. "Blighter almost had me!" With Mully protecting his wounded side, they fought together as vermin crowded the tunnel.

"Eulalia! 'S death on the wind." The faint cry drifted through the battle's din.

Tarthul whooped. "Hoho! Long Patrol's here! Eulalia!"

Later, Mully sat with her digging pole in her lap. She cleaned it, as Tarthul had cleaned his saber after the fighting.

Tarthul limped over. "Well, Mully m'gel. You showed yourself a real warrior, wot!"

Mully wrinkled her nose. "Oi b'ain't no wurrior, zurr." She stood and planted her digging pole in the ground. "But wuld you'm teach oi t'be?"[/spoiler]

This was a very last minute app, inspired by the 30-minute challenge Matra threw out over the weekend. I used a version of the Shadow Room technique to come up with the sea-shell comb and went from there.

Kenway - Otter - Male - 34
[spoiler]Kenway launched from the river, water streaming from his sleek form, teeth bared in a savage snarl.

The fox screeched in pain as the otter slammed a fishing spear into his arm, pinning him to the side of the tree.

"No, no, it wasn't me! It wasn't me. I swear!" the fox blubbered as the otter twisted the spear deeper into his forelimb.

"You were there," Kenway said. "You were one of them. Where is she?"

"I dunno. Vulpuz's eyes, I swear I don't know!" He cried out in pain and then screeched, "Teon has her!"

The otter stared down the fox, snout to snout with him, his breathing, slow, controlled and steady, while the fox panted and whined.

The fox's final scream cut off as Kenway slit his throat with a fillet knife. Blood sprayed over the otter and stained the riverbank's rocks. He yanked his fishing spear loose, letting the body flop to the bank.

"Four," Kenway whispered.

He stepped backwards into the river, plunging his head down, letting the cold stream wash the fox's blood from his body and his weapons.

That was the fourth. The fourth of six vermin.

That had been the fox. There'd been only one fox.

Two remained, a rat and a pine marten.

One of them had her.

The one named Teon.

Kenway sheathed his fillet knife, and returned to the riverbank. He crouched in the mud. The fox's paw tracks had come from the trees. If he followed the tracks, perhaps, he'd find the final two.

Two remained, the rat and the marten, and with them, his daughter.

He pulled out a wide shell from the pouch he wore at his waist. Pink and cream swirls danced over the ridged side of the shell. The inside was opalescent, a swirl like frozen rainbow. The shell had been notched all along the top into little comb-like ridges, but an ugly crack showed down the side, a jagged break in the beauty.

He rubbed it in his paws, tears pricking hot in his eyes. He pressed it to his lips, stiff whiskers trembling against the ridged surface. The memory rose, of seeing his home, his holt, smashed and burned. Seeing the dead body of his wife, a bloody kitchen knife still in her paw. She'd fought, always the warrior. He had just been the fisherotter, content to paddle the coracle around the lake, working the nets, bringing in the fish they needed to survive.

There'd been no Pearl that day, no sign of her but the broken shell comb that had been her spring Nameday present. No sign, but footprints in the blood. Pearl's prints, and six others.

Four of the owners of the prints lay dead, hunted down over the last season.

Two more still lived.

Kenway put the shell back in his pouch. He raised his head, red-eyed and grim. "I'll find you, my Pearl. I swear it. I'll find you and bring you home."

He followed the tracks into the trees, leaving the fox's body by the riverbank.

Two remained, but not for long.
[/spoiler]

[Rose]

I didn't get in this time, but I already feel like I learned a lot! Here are my cut apps :

Shatter: Marksman, Male
[spoiler]Shatter drew his paw slowly along his father's bow. He couldn't truly think of it as his until he had avenged his father's death with it. Lines of golden script swirled down the shaft, engraved by his grandfather. It was unreadable after being worn down by years of constant use, but it still glowed beautifully in the firelight.

He set the bow against a tree so he could pull out a glass bottle of amber liquid.  His master. He had tried many times to break free but it always snuck back into his pocket somehow. The liquid swished temptingly but he satisfied himself with a sip, knowing he would need his mind as clear as possible for the task at hand.

He quickly tucked the bottle away when a twig cracked nearby.

"Ish that you, Aero? Jolly bad form shneaking up on a fella, wot." The hare's drunken slur had become a permanent part of his vocabulary after years of slavery to the drink.

The squirrel melted out of the dark mist. "I would think someone with your reputation would be more alert to his surroundings."

Shatter barely moved. It was just the slightest flick of his wrist and a dagger buried itself in a tree directly between Aero's ears. He almost winced but stopped himself just in time. One sip too many had caused his aim to be off. He had hit the tree an inch higher then he had meant to, just grazing fur.

Aero didn't waste a second. He yanked the dagger out of the tree and hurled it back at Shatter, who reached up to catch it. He missed and his ear paid the price. The dagger had neatly severed the very tip of it.

"What's happened to you, Shatter? I taught you better than this. Have you been back to the drink?"

Shatter glared at Aero, "Don't pretend ta care about me. Ya shtuck around jusht long enough ta find out where my uncle wash holed up, then ya shot my jolly old Pop in the back." Noting the startled look on Aero's face, he continued, "Thash right. I shaw ya do it when ya thought no one wash there."

Aero began to reach in his tunic, but Shatter was faster and this time his aim held true. A dagger seemed to appear out of thin air finding its mark in Aero's chest. Aero fell back against a tree and slid to the ground.

"I would do it again if I had the chance," Aero gasped, "But I'm warning you kid, even with your dad's directions I couldn't find your uncle. Who knows if he is even still alive?"

Shatter picked up his father's bow and notched an arrow in place.

"Thish ish for you, pop!" He let the arrow go. It landed with a satisfying "Thunk!" 

Aero took a last shuddering breath and lay still.

Shatter ripped the bloodied arrow out of the body, leaving the dagger. "I found ya and I'll bally well find him, too."

He looked at the engraved bow before slinging it over his back and putting out his fire.  It was his bow now. It held a secret worth killing for, but with the words worn away, there was only one way left to discover what it was. He had to find the twin bow given to his uncle by his grandfather. The coward had probably never even shot it.

Shatter wasn't going to waste any time. He walked in no particular direction knowing his uncle was out there somewhere and he couldn't hide forever.
[/spoiler]

Arist: Assasin, Female (Newbie Handicap)

[spoiler]Arist didn't know where she was going, only that she had to get as far away from the stronghold as possible. She ran her hand over her swollen belly. She was only halfway through the pregnancy, yet even now she could feel the flutters of her kits movements. How dare they command that she end the pregnancy. How dare they claim she was soft because she valued a baby's innocence. The ground passed in a blur as she pushed herself harder.

I am not soft, she thought to herself, in fact, hard is a much better description of me. I  have killed countless times. It doesn't bother me to clear the land of one more evil creature when needed or commanded by someone of a higher rank, but babies aren't evil yet. Babies are the only ones who truly have a right to live.

The muscles in her legs were burning. Her breath came in gasps. She tried to pace herself but she was faced with what seemed an impossible choice. If I get caught I will most likely be killed and if I push myself too hard I could lose my kits.

A sudden wave of pain made Arist crash to the ground. She let out a moan as her stomach rippled with a strong contraction. She knew she had to stop. Running all night had spent every ounce of her strength.

Seeing a stream nearby, She dragged herself over and let the cool water soothe her aching body. She hoped her dark fur would blend in with the rocks in the stream. It was the best she could do for now. She didn't know how long it would be before they came looking for her, but it would happen. The boss didn't like to leave loose ends.





She wasn't sure if it had been hours or minutes when she heard voices coming towards her.

"Tis 'most daybreak, der vixen is probbly long gone. Mebbe we ought ter go back."

"Boss wouldn't like dat, ya know der vixen wuz wan of his special agents. I've never seen him send out so many scouts just fer a deserter before. I'm not goin ter be the wan ter tell him dat we gave up."

Arist stood and grabbed her blowpipe from her belt seconds before the vermin came into sight.

Thwip,thwip! The poison darts sailed through the air hitting both vermin squarely between their eyes. Two down, a hundred more to go, she thought as they fell.

Arist looked down and noticed blood seeping out from between her legs and flowing out into the stream. Just then another contraction brought her to her knees in pain. She had pushed herself too far. Her body was rejecting the lives she had sacrificed everything for.  The one time she tried to save lives instead of destroying them, still ended in their destruction. With a pitiful cry, she passed out and fell back into the water.


A full moon shone down on the fox when she awoke, aching everywhere. The stream bubbled happily around her oblivious to her suffering. She looked down at her stomach. Where it had once been plump, it now sagged. She knew her kits were gone. All she had done to protect them had ended up being a waste.

As she slowly rose to her feet, anger began to flood all the empty space within her. They would pay. They would suffer. Every rotten-to-the-core vermin deserved to die, and there was no beast more suited to the task than her. She was an assassin, not a hero.
[/spoiler]

[Airan]

I'll be popping in here later when I get a moment to discuss my thoughts on these apps, mostly just going over the general reason why they were cut. Will be back later in the coming days- so feel free to keep posting any you'd like quick thoughts on.

[Abrahem]

This was my first time doing the contest and it was a real learning expireance. My character is Dinogad, a marksman pine marten. He was inspired by a welsh lullaby called "dinogads smock" as well as an untitled Robert e Howard story. I'm betting this will be the worst app of the contest, but oh well. I'm still glad I participated, and will do better in the next one.
Dinogad
Pine marten
Marksmen
23

Dinogad's cape speckled as 7-foxes charged him. He threw seven-spears, and killed each fox. Dinogad was a pine-marten. His tribe dueling their greatest-enemy, a fox-tribe.

Many foxes died, either by weasels or his spears. For no crow, sparrow, or fox could escape Dinogad.

The battle was over and all foxes slain. A companion came. "Damn these devils." Hroth, an older-weasel, he taught everything he knew to Dinogad.

Dinogad looked through the carnage, sighing. "I bet there are bigger kingdoms, beyond those tribes, and ours." The marten was tense, always deep in thought, something brewing in his mind. "I wouldn't leave, only visit. Try sailing to other lands, bring back valuables and unique-food!” Hroth flicked his finger at Dinogads forehead, it hurt like when he was a kit.

"What did I tell you about those fantasies?" His eyes-lowered "ah come on hroth don't say yer not curios to taste that feast of the red brick church, er abbey?"

"Church or abbey, I won't here any blasphemous talk about going to those cursed waters!"

"But the way Unfar described them!"

"Unfar was mad! There are slavers all around the country of that fabled monastery. We had to put the poor jack out of his misery!" Dinogad had an angry doubtful look on his face, he had seen Unfar silenced, it was not merciful to his eyes. "We love you, don't leave us gad." Said hroth

"Thanks Hroth. But I'm no kit anymore. I don't believe every tale, I'm only curios. I remember the songs the bards sung, strange lands." He reminisced.

"Mercy! I thought the raid was a failed mission! Fools didn't listen to me!" An unfamiliar cry was heard, weasels stood over the bodies, but one fox was alive! They came to him, he was young, about-17, handsome young lad with innocent eyes for a fiend-fox. "Please, let me say bye to my family, I'll never attack your village again! Even if they whip me!”

"Mercy! He's a boy!" Dinogad said,  he gritted through his teeth. "Should've known he'd side with an outsider!" Another weasel seethed with venom. "He's not a boy! He's on the cusp of manhood! But he'll never reach it! burn him in the wicker!" The wicker was the box of wood that they used to burn and execute enemies, or those deemed corrupted.

"Ay, the fox deserves to die, but not suffer. Kill him like his brothers, and burry him like the rest. Were not savages." Hroth came forward. Even he pitied the fox, but, he was an invader, needing execution

"Says the old-fool!" "Dinogad has done great things for our village! Learn respect for your betters!" Growled Hroth. But the weasels were too angry, tired of the pillaging  and desperate to see enemies-roast.

They placed him in the wicker. Dinogad pitied him. His own people, how could they do something so cruel? If he could, he would save him but there was no time. But he would grant mercy.

He and the fox shared glances, and Dinogad pulled out a spear. The fox felt scared but gracious. It flew through the air impaling the foxes young heart. He gasped but joined his comrades and died.

Dinogad was sad but relieved.

But his tribes-mates eyes burned with hate. "We should've drowned him as a kit!" "A marten living with weasels?! What were we thinking?!" "How could he, we loved him?! Took him in!"

Dinogad cried as he ran from his kin, only hroth didn't chase him, his face now filled with tears. Dinogad had too kill his kinsmen, throwing his spears. He got away from them, and cried. But now he was free, and though many dangers lie ahead, he was a curse as an enemy, for no beast could escape the spears of Dinogad.

[One-Eye]

Jericho (Grim)
Wildcat
Male
Duelist
25

While writing this app, I really began to like this character, so I may reuse him somewhere else.

It was a fairly typical alleyway. Dirty and grimy, with two beasts engaged in a boxing match.

"Come on, give up already, Grim!" a paw fitted with brass knuckles slammed into the speaker's head in response.

The speaker was a large weasel. His opponent, a thin wildcat colored gunmetal grey punched him again. "Or you do." Grim ducked under the punch, and slammed both paws into the weasel's back, knocking him down. The weasel was experienced enough to brace himself against the ground, and got back up in time to launch the next blow.

   Grim feinted to the left, then knocked the weasel down with a swift two punch this time in the throat. "Nah, it's gonna be you. Have fun getting-" At this time, Grim lapsed into a violent coughing fit that lasted a full minute. The apparent cause of this sudden incapacitation seemed to be a pair of large tumors on the side of his neck.

"-Choked out by your own blood." The weasel fell to the ground, and managed to prop himself up against a wall. The beast called Grim reached into the weasel's pocket and removed a few gold coins from it.

   "Wait! Grim! Grimace! Jericho, come back! Come back and help me!"

   The cat stopped in his tracks. "Only one person was allowed to call me Jericho, and he's dead. Dead like you." Grim continued away, not even looking at the beast bleeding out behind him.

   Later, Grim was lying on a straw mattress in an inn, cleaning the weasel's blood off his brass knuckles. "Well, in one week, it will be back to mugging beasts the alleyways. Maybe a decent mark will show up. If not... Well, that weasel in the alleyway isn't going to be the only body in these streets." said Grim, speaking aloud even though he was alone and no beast was listening.

   The wildcat suddenly realized that he had also stolen the weasel's money, and even after renting a room at the inn, he still had enough to buy himself some food at the inn's downstairs tavern. "Food later." muttered the wildcat, reaching for a small knife and an ink bottle.

   Grim brought the knife up to one of his tumors, and made two parallel cuts, followed by a cut that curved upwards. He then poured ink into the cuts and looked at himself in the looking glass in his room. His reflection stared back at him, his new tattoo glistening in the dim light. "Perfect." He repeated the actions on his second tumor, and left the room.
   
   As Grim walked down the stairs, the smaller lump bit down on his windpipe, and he suddenly couldn't breathe. After a tense moment, the pressure eased up and he was finally able to breathe again.

   Grim suddenly let out a bitter, hoarse chuckle. Laughter was the only thing keeping him alive and sane these days. He entered the tavern, and sat down at a bench in the corner. A bar-hand came to his table, and left a large piece of bread and a piece of overcooked meat on his plate.

   "Those ain't lookin' too good, mate." said the bar-hand, gesturing to the lumps on Grim's throat.

   "Yeah, what else is new?" said Grim, letting out a sigh. The wildcat fiddled with his brass knuckles under the table. One last adventure. That's all I'm asking for...

[Jarrtail]

Rip to my man Noi, taken from us too soon (how on earth do I do one of those neat spoiler drop downs?)

*

Noi squinted through the gate's bars at the figure prancing around the arena in front of him. His helmet and the midday sun made it difficult to tell exactly who or what his opponent was today, but he could see the shine of well-polished armor. He hated the shiny ones; they were always so full of themselves, often because they knew that certain arrangements had been made to ensure they'd have an easy time of it. Such seemed to be the case today — a heavy iron chain linked the wall to Noi's ankle, restricting his movement to half the arena. A deep growl rose in his throat. How dare they? Did they think he was a clown performing for their entertainment?

Rusty hinges squealing, the gate swung open and Noi lumbered out to the sound of hisses and jeers. He ignored it; the only noise that mattered was the growing thump-thump of his heartbeat filling his ears, pumping so much blood that it spilled over into his eyes, tinting his sight red — No, not yet. The badger clenched his fangs and squeezed his eyelids shut until the drumbeat receded, taking deep breaths of the blood-and-sweat-scented air. He had to use his head right now. The shiny beast approached him, making experimental jabs with their spear. Noi replied with slow swipes of his caestus-clad fists, which his opponent easily dodged. Good. Keep them confident.

Then, he stopped. It looked as though the chain around the badger's ankle had pulled tight, preventing him from advancing any further. Only a hawk could have realized that it was not completely taut, that Noi had in fact stopped of his own accord, purposefully leaving the tiniest bit of slack in the middle. It wasn't much - a couple inches at most - but that was all he needed. He kept up his lazy strikes as the shiny one danced around him, their spear scoring some inconsequential hits on his extremities. But those scratches wouldn't take down a monster like Noi, and he could tell that they were getting impatient, worn down by constant movement and the weight of their silly armor. They thought they had the measure of his range and speed, now they moved in for a vital strike  —

THUD

Faster than any beast expected, Noi inched a half-step forwards and slammed his fist into the other beast's stomach, gilt metal crumpling under the impact. He immensely enjoyed the sight of the weasel's eyes bulging out of his head as his helmet flew off, before the impact sent him flying into the wall. The poor beast didn't even have time to pull himself up before Noi was upon him, a half-remembered battlecry roaring from his throat as his vision filled with blood: "EULALIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Thump-thump-thump-thump. The sound of his heartbeat blended with the sound of his fists pounding against the helpless beast's broken body, smashing that shiny armor beyond salvaging and reducing its wearer to nothing more than a misshapen pile of fur and gore. Only once his bloodlust was completely sated did Noi consent to being led out of the arena by his master, who was already complaining about how upset some important beasts were going to be about this. He dimly heard something about this being the final straw, and that he was going to be sold to the first beast that would take him.

That was perfectly fine with Noi. Somewhere, he knew, there was somebeast who could make use of his talents — the who or why was unimportant, so long as he had a battlefield.

[Sebias of Redwall]

[spoiler]
BANE REDFLANK:

CATEGORY: HUNTER

Bane Redflank chuckled to himself from his hiding place in a thick oak. His eyes glittered with amusement as he watched his prey.
"By Blood's Gates," he mumbled aloud to himself, "If only all of my quarry were like this."
The cloaked fox had been hunting the rat for no more than a day. Bane had found his trail with ease, taking his time to follow the rat's obvious tracks. The price on the rodent's head wasn't exactly as high as he was used to, but times had been rough, and the employer was an old friend of Bane's.
Notching an arrow to his longbow, the mercenary shook his head. It was time to finish this pitiful charade.
The creature on the ground, unaware of the red fox scrutinizing his actions from above, panted as he stumbled through the forest. The rat clutched a small box to his chest, his breathing ragged as he charged through the forest.
"Gotta keep going... Just one more step," the rat mumbled aloud to himself, "J-Just one more st–Eeeargh!!"
He broke off with a screech as an arrow flew out of nowhere and pierced his shoulder. The rat tripped over a root and fell.
Bane dropped onto the ground on all fours – his landing as smooth as a cat. Slinging his bow back over his shoulder, he pulled out a flask from the inside of his cloak and strode up to the prone figure.
"Help me! Please," the rat pleaded, reaching out a trembling paw towards the fox. "I'm dying!"
"Nonsense, Mister Dirtfang. It's a mere flesh wound," he said matter-of-factly, "While it might be painful, I'm sure you'll live." He grabbed the small box off of the ground where the rodent had dropped it.
The rat gasped with shock as he recognized his captor. It was only then did he realize the full gravity of his predicament.
"What– How... How did you find me?"
"Well, for starters, you left a trail that a blind mouse could follow. I thought I'd wait and let you run yourself ragged first before I took action."
"Y-You're the Ghost Hunter, aren't you?" The rat stammered. "I've heard about you. Some beasts say that you stabbed your own mother for half a bag of gold!"
Bane smiled inwardly. He had worked hard to earn his reputation, and he was pleased to know that it had spread.
"I think it was only for a few coppers, if my memory's correct. Anyway, enough about me..." The fox grasped the rat by the scruff and pulled out a dagger.  "Let's talk more about you. Would you like to live, Mister Dirtfang? My employer says he would prefer you still breathing, but I get my pay either way. So if you don't answer my questions, you might end up meeting my mother at Hellgates. Catch my drift?"
"I'll tell you anything!"
"Good. My employer mentioned that you used to be in a gang led by Bruno Fang." His voice hardened as he pressed the knife against the rat's throat. "I want to know where he is."
"I-I never heard of 'im! Honest! Me and that wildcat slaver never so much as crossed paths before!"
"Really?" The hunter's grip tightened. "Then how come you knew he was a wildcat slaver?" Bane grabbed the rodent's ear and twisted it sharply, eliciting a gasp of pain from the smaller creature.
"Don't play games with me, scum," Bane growled, hauling Dirtfang up into his footpaws. "I'll question you when we get back. I'm sure my employer is eager to see you. Let's go, shall we?"
[/spoiler]

[spoiler]
JARGUR STRONGFIST

CATEGORY: SEA-BEAST

Jargur made a gallant figure as his ship pulled up to the dock. The otter smiled as his gaze swept over the cheering otters who crowded by the shore to greet them. He and his crew of clan warriors had just returned from a recent battle. They had received word that a village to the north of their Holt had been attacked by vermin, and Jargur, like usual, had been quick to answer the call.
The ship was secured to the dock and a walking plank was lowered. Swinging his bow and quiver over his back, Jargur athletically leapt over the ship's railing, not bothering to use the walkway, and landed on the dock.
He stood up and bellowed, "Fair folk of Holt Wavebreakers, we have returned victorious yet again!"
The air was filled with shouts and cheers as the crowd rejoiced.
"Jargur! Jargur! Jargur!" they chanted.
As he strode through the crowd, Jargur saw several pretty females giggling as they gazed at him in awe. He flexed his bulging muscles and winked roguishly at them, causing one to swoon.
The warrior had prepared his speech on the voyage back, and decided that now was the time to give it.
"Friends and neighbors," he boomed, "I hope that I, like always, have succeeded your expectations. It was truly an honor–oof!"
He grunted as the flying form of an otter lad barreled into him.
"You're back!" the lad cried, hugging Jargur fiercely.
"Gale!"
His speech forgotten, Jargur returned his brother's hug. He blushed as he realized that the surrounding creatures were still watching. "Ahem..." Pushing his brother back, he grinned. "Goodness, what's Ma been feeding ya? You've gotten bigger since I left."
"Maybe I'll be as big as you even!" Gale straightened up.
Ruffling Gale's headfur with his paw, Jargur shook his head. "Sorry, but nobeast could ever measure up to my good looks, I'm afraid." He winked. "Where's Ma and Da?"
"Ma's cooking up a feast. Da went to the forest to get firewood for the oven."
"So he doesn't know about my latest triumph? I'll have to fix that. Gale, tell Mother I'll be back in time for vittles."
Weaving through the crowd, Jargur went to the edge of the forest that surrounded the village. Spotting a set of fresh tracks, he followed them.
He'd been walking through the trees for a while when his ears pricked up, hearing something. He let out a sigh.
"I can hear you, Da," he called out. "You always said it was rude to spy on creatures, anyway."
A silver-furred otter slipped out from behind a tree, carrying branches under his arm. "I wasn't spying," he replied, "Just...watching. There's a difference."
Grinning, the two otters embraced.
"It's good to have you home, Son. How'd your mission go?"
Jargur thumped his chest proudly. "We were successful! Although, I guess that's not much of a surprise. I've never lost a battle yet. Gale has probably already started writing a song about my victory. They'll be singing my praises for seasons to come!"
"It's not about the glory." Jargur shook his head. "Haven't I taught you anything?"
"Of course you have! I'm the best warrior in the tribe."
"That wasn't what I meant." The old otter sighed. "Jargur, what am I going to do with you? You're too cocky for your own good. One day, it'll get you into trouble."
"Relax, Da. I can handle myself. Let's head back to the village. I'll help you carry those."
"I'm old, not dead. I'll carry them."
Talking back and forth, the two otters disappeared into the forest.
[/spoiler]

[Robert Rosequill]

I'm pretty proud of Bronn, I think it's a great little scene and one of the best apps I've written for one of these. It's a testament to the competition this contest is seeing it didn't make the cut. It's probably for the best Bronn didn't make it, though. He's a broody boy.

[spoiler]
Bronn
Seafarer
Otter

A ship floats dead in the water, its sails hanging uselessly in the stagnant air. The sun beat down hard upon the deck, where nearly all the crew gathered around in a disorganized circle. The beasts who braved the heat wore ill-fitting garb, but most were without shirts, revealing their gaunt and haggard frames. Their bellies growled, but none payed them mind, their attention too focused on the beasts inside the circle.

Two otters, in slight but enviously better shape than their audience, squared off. The two's eyes were locked, their paws out and heads low. One otter was Bronn. Breathing deep, Bronn tried to focus on the opposing otter's position, preparing for the lunge he knew was coming. But the otter, Jossk, was making this difficult. He wouldn't shut up.

"You're getting slow, Bronn!" Jossk jeered. "You'd think you'd have gotten better at beating me by now!"

Jossk made for a lunge, but Bronn held his ground. He knew it was a feint. Jossk always feints first.

"But instead, I'm getting better! I thought third time's the charm..."

Jossk feinted again. Bronn reacted this time, cursing the mistake as he quickly righted himself, planting his footpaws more firmly. Next was the true engage. He was certain. Jossk grinned a toothy smile.

"...but now I'm thinking it's the fourth!"

Jossk lunged, hooking Bronn's arm to bring him down. Bronn grit his teeth. Pushing through the pain, Bronn shoved his weight into the hold, knocking Jossk off balance and lifting him ever so slightly off the deck. Bronn grappled the otter's airborne leg with his own and sent both of them crashing into the deck. Bronn avoided landing on his head. Jossk was not so lucky.

Dazed, Jossk groaned. Bronn scrambled to put the poor beast into a chokehold before he could react.

"Not again, you son of a..." Jossk started.

But Bronn yanked back with his arm, pulling Jossk into a losing hold on the ground. Jossk tried fighting back, until finally he slapped the ground with his paw.

"Fine!" he managed to grunt. "Take my damned rations again, you..!"

But Bronn didn't let go.

Growling, Jossk pounded his fist on the deck.

"I...said...you win-" Jossk tried to grunt again, but Bronn squeezed harder, saving the otter his precious breath.

Wild eyed, Jossk struggled, slapping and clawing at any piece of Bronn he could reach. Grunting and gasping, Jossk looked for anybeast coming to his rescue, but no beast did. He watched as the crew left the grisly scene to return to their idle duties, leaving the otters locked in morbid embrace.

Slowly, Jossk's writhing became weaker, his blows softer. Bronn held firm. Breathing deep, he focused on the single cloud overhead. Once he lost track of time, Bronn returned his attention to the body in his arms. It no longer moved.

Bronn let go, though his muscles were stiff and uncooperative. He rose to his footpaws. Aware of the fleeting glances his way, Bronn walked below deck where, suspiciously, his captain appeared before him.

"Ahoy, Bronn." the captain stated. His eyes stared past Bronn, to the deck above. "I assume...Jossk is...?"

Bronn nodded. The Captain nodded. Bronn tried to move past the Captain, but the damned beast opened his mouth.

"Aye." the Captain began. Avoiding Bronn's gaze, he mused. "Tragic...but a necessary evil. Theft is only a petty crime on land, not at sea. A crew can't suffer for one selfish beast. The needs of the many, as you know, out-"

"Save your words," Bronn spat, his voice startling the Captain into silence. Shoving past the dumbstruck beast, Bronn made his way to the kitchens.

[/spoiler]

[Kingsdotr]

Okie! Here are the ones that didn't make it.... I enjoyed making them anyway!

Galena Rosepaw, Otter, Hunter
[spoiler]It took her forever to find the first sign. On her initial pass, she missed it through the red haze that covered her eyes. The second time, she was too busy berating herself. Finally, she found the squashed pine needles that showed hurried passage.

"C'mon, 'Lena," she grumbled, searching carefully for the next sign. "Yer better than this."

The otter moved softly through the trees, moss cushioning her paws. Now that her anger had cooled, the trail of her quarry was clear. A broken twig here, a bit of scraped bark there, and with the moss under-paw, the signs were perfectly clear.

Faster she moved, her focus tight now. She pulled her fishing spear off her back, holding it in slightly trembling paws. She was so close now... the marks were so fresh...

Heavy breathing ahead spurred her to greater speed, as well as the sound of stumbling steps. Her quarry was near exhaustion, something that filled her with a rather vindictive glee. Gripping tight to the spear haft, she burst into a small clearing that ended abruptly in a sheer rock face.

The bedraggled otter that was scrambling to find climbing holds up the cliff whirled around and backed away. "No," he pleaded, his whiskers bristling as he saw her face. He hit the cliff face. "No, Galena, I beg you!"

"For what, Soren? What do you beg for?" 'Lena snarled, bulling forward. "It's far too late, after what you've done!"

He wailed like a dying rabbit as she closed in on him.

***

Skip hovered over her shoulder, burly paws crossed over his chest. She wasn't paying much attention to him, instead staring at the hedgehog painstakingly counting coins across the table.

"One for disorderly conduct, three for destruction of property..."

"I tol' ye, Galena!" Skip rumbled. "I tol' ye what would 'appen if ye hunted Soren down!"

"I had to," Galena replied absently, keeping her emotions reigned in tight. He moved any closer, and she might scream, either in rejoicing or grief, she wasn't sure which.

"Why?" Skipper demanded. "Why would y' hunt down yer own husband?"

"Because he betrayed me!" Galena snapped, jarred from her numbness by his insensitivity. "Did ye think I didn't know? That I didn't smell 'er flowery perfume on 'im ev'ry chance he got?" She rounded on Skip, jabbing her paw into his chest. "I finally did somethin' about it!"

"Five for striking an officer of the law..."

"We don't hunt our own, Galena. I never thought ye'd stoop to that."

"It's 'Lena," she snapped, the pause at the beginning of her name clear. "And it's not like I killed 'im, did I? He's gotta pay for his crimes. Agin the public, at least."

"The holt woulda taken care of 'im."

Galena laughed uproariously. "Tell me another, Skip!"

He drew up, his rudder stiffening thumping the floor. "If This is the way ye go, ye're outta the holt."

Anger flared. "Good! I don' need any of yuz!"

Skipper threw up his paws and stomped off. 'Lena turned back to the hedgehog.

The flabby coin-counter blinked at her from behind thick spectacles. "With the fine for escaping without paying, the total bounty comes to ten coins," he stated in nasally cultured tones. "And this also."

"What?" 'Lena asked numbly, staring at the medallion on top of the coins.

"It seems you've lost quite a bit today. We have beasts who need to pay their debts to society. We would pay you to track them down."

'Lena had a moment of hesitation, then swept up the pile, a vicious grin creasing her muzzle. "I'm in."[/spoiler]

Elrad, Berserker
[spoiler]Elrad breathed deeply, clutching the burlap-wrapped parcel close. This type of morning resonated deep within his soul, echoing the stark, empty beauty of the northern reaches. The calm he so craved filled him.

A shriek shattered the peaceful silence. Annoyance mixed with alarm flooded through him, and he tightened his grasp. He battled against the metallic taste that flooded his mouth and the red haze that crept in his gaze.

Did he dare investigate? Did he risk leaving the poor...

Another shriek determined that the beast being attacked was indeed female. A rusty protective instinct urged him forward, and he pounded up the road.

He barreled around the bend and straight into six weasels bunched around a young vole maid.

Everybeast froze as they stared at each other.

"Here he be," grinned the first weasel, holding the vole's arm tight as she darted her eyes between them. "Right on schedule. We knew the maid 'ud bring y' runnin'."

"Do I know you?" Elrad asked, his voice shaky. It was so close, much faster than the last time. Perhaps he was losing his grip...

"Aye, we heerd ye was hired by tha' lordling in Norndale fortress. How much was y' paid to stand aroun' in armor?"

"You need..." Elrad sucked in air, forcing the red haze to retreat. "You need to leave the lass alone."

The scarred vermin dropped the maid's arm and turned to him fully. "An' who's gonna make us?"

Burlap wrapped vegetables splattered at his feet as his twin knives appeared in his paws like magic. He dimly saw the vole maid scrambling away as the rage coursed through him. "For Alsra!" he bellowed, his eyes filming over with crimson. "For Alsra! For Alsra!"

There were flashes, then.

Slice. Slice. Terror. Dead weasel. Blood. Pines. Terror.

Terror? How dare his foe act frightened? There was no room for fear, only rage.

Elrad finally subsided, and awareness trickled in to reveal the carnage he had wrought. Six weasels, all gruesomely lying where they'd been felled as he knelt, panting, in their blood.

The shaking began then, and Elrad wrapped his arms around himself, staving off another fit. He moved away, placing them at his back.

He thought he had left this all behind.

He trudged toward his humble cottage numbly. Once again, the rage was driving him from his home. Perhaps retrieving his few belongings wasn't even worth it. But there was his token... He reached the clearing and stopped.

In the gathering twilight a flame bobbed behind his papered window frames.

His steps were quiet now, and he could feel the rage waiting to pounce. The door creaked open, and the vole maid whirled to face him.

"Oh," she said, stunned. "Yer... yer still alive?"

"What are you doing?" Elrad asked in a flat voice.

His eyes zeroed in on the necklace she held in one paw, which she hastily hid behind her back.
"Ah, ha, ha," she laughed unconvincingly. "Yer must be a fast 'un, to outrun those big weaselly brutes. They... uh, are they far behind?"

Elrad could not move his eyes from the necklace. Echoes of battles past, of a time when the rage was everything. Time froze.

"Are you stealing from me?"

The vole maid giggled nervously again. "Ye don't have to worry! I just take this little bit o' glim, and I'm gone!"

"No, I don't think so," Elrad said, quite calm.

This time she laughed out loud, throwing back her head. "And what can a mouse like you do?"

The knives were comforting weights this time. "Let us see."

Red descended.[/spoiler]

[Rascal]

Behold, in all her glory, Hana!

[spoiler]Name: Hana
Species: Wolverine
Gender: Female
Age: 20s

"I'm telling ye, Papa, I heard something out there."

"Ye'll be hearing the sound of my foot up yer tail if ye don't push, blast it!"

Wiping rainfall out of his eyes Barley threw his weight against the wagon. Even with Rice pulling from the other end the mice only succeeded in digging their wagon deeper into the mud.

"Stop. Just stop!" Barley gasped for breath, "There be no use. We just have to go back to town fer help."

"Help nothin'! Yer just afraid we'll run into. . . the Monster." Rice taunted.

Barley jumped as lightning struck, banishing shadows from the woods around them. "But the villagers said. . ."

"Oi! They be pullin' yer tail because yer daft enough to believe them." The old mouse waved his paws in the air, "I'm tellin' ya! De Monster of Marrow Woods be naught but a myth, ye jelly brain lummox!"

"I would not be so sure of that."

Lightning flashed again, highlighting the creature as it appeared behind Barley's father.
Both mice screamed, cowering against the cart as heavy paws plopped through the mud towards them.

A creature loomed into the light of their lantern, a beast from the depths of the Dark Forest for sure! A beast taller than a badger and covered in the hides of animals.

"Yer. . ." Barely stammered, "Yer. . ."

"Beautiful, charming, exotic?" The creature flashed a toothy smile as she scratched at Barely's chin with a claw larger than his head, "Aren't you just a sweetheart! What on earth are you two doing out here?" Paws on her hips, the monster glanced at the wagon.

"Ah, havin' wagon trouble I see! Well, it's a good thing you stumbled across Hana and her wagon moving services."

Brushing the terrified mice to one side, the beast crouched behind the wagon. With a grunt of effort, it came free.

"Woo! That is some crop you grew! No wonder you both are so deliciously plump."
"W-what?"

"I said I got your wagon free." The bones weaved into Hana's garments clinked together as she laughed. "However, my services are not. Free that is. Emergency wagon removal in off-hours, on a weekend no less, will cost you, oh. . ." glancing over the cart Hana said, "Everything on the cart. . . And the cart too."

"Ye ain't just a monster! Yer a highway robber!" Old Rice shouted. His ranting only caused the beast to chuckle. "Ya can't steal our crop!"

"Well, obviously I can. . ."

"Papa, stop!" Restraining his father, Barely pleaded with the monster, "Please. This be our livelihood. If we can't sell this crop; our family will starve this winter!"

"And I'll starve if I don't steal from you. You are just on the losing end of the laws of nature." Hana grinned deviously, "Unless you are willing to volunteer yourself for supper?"

Letting the words sink for a moment, she grabbed the wagon and began to move away. "If your wagon was really important, then it would be guarded with more than your groveling."
"Monster!"

"Papa! No!"

Thwack!

Dropping the wagon where she stood, the wolverine turned slowly to face the mice, mud falling off the side of her head.

Barely and Rice both gasped with fear.

"You know, it's my fault really." Hana wiped the mud from her face while drawing closer, "I went against the laws of nature. I tried to be nice, but as you said..."

Lightning flashed across the sky as Hana raised her claws high.

". . .I'm a monster."[/spoiler]