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Post by Taurian on Jan 28, 2016 7:28:27 GMT -5
Molan Lasair stood before their hares, assembled in the shadow of the mountain. General Lavenderfur stood beside them. Nodding at the General, Molan turned to address the crowd of hares. "This day, we go tae follow the scum that killed our brave young hares, an' hopefully stop them from reaching Redwall Abbey an' threatening the lives o' the goodbeasts there!" They roared out. "The runners that I sent out during the race are returning now." Two sprightly young hares bounded up to the badger lord.
"Runners 'n' trackers reportin' back, sah!"
"The blighters went that way, sah, an' took careful measures t' cover their tracks, but the trail's still just barely there." The hare pointed into the wood.
"Thankee greatly. Go and find Speedwell and Warpaw, tell them to run on ahead, and stay careful. We'll be right behind them." The hares saluted, and ran off to find the other two. Molan turned to Lavenderfur. "Are ye ready, General?" They asked.
(I know you said that the hares with Major Rifflerun didn't see the trail, but just to start them off in the right direction, I would imagine that there'd still be minute traces of a campsite. Also, is the Guosim going to be a factor in any of the battles at all? Or the ottercrew in Mossflower?)
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Post by jinxwolf34 on Jan 28, 2016 19:50:58 GMT -5
((Hey look I'm not dead!)The otter crew is ready to rumble.)
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Post by Captain Bigwig on Feb 5, 2016 23:38:36 GMT -5
The General listened in stoic silence, face giving the occasional twitch, but overall he remained very still. His wounds still ached, and getting used to only having one eye was still a challenge, but his pride recovered, and that does a great deal for an old hare's self-esteem.
Nodding sharply at Lord Lasair, General Lavenderfur rolled his shoulders back, setting his jaw determinedly.
"More ready than I've ever been in my bloody life, m'Lord. I'll see to it every single vermin perishes."
And his words, filled with passion and sincerity, served to excite the older male a bit. Deep down, he feared this would indeed be his last great battle, before the end. He was getting older, and never before had he faced such a threat. He wouldn't be alone, but he'd see himself dead on the battlefield before he had to watch another young hare get slaughtered by those beasts, those beasts, those beasts -
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Post by Taurian on Feb 6, 2016 13:11:26 GMT -5
Molan returned the general's nod. "None o' those vermin'll e'er see their ship again whilst I draw breath," the badger vowed. They saw the cloud of dust as the runners vanished from view. "STEADY, AAAAAANNNNNNN'... MARCH!" The column started off, following the path the runners had made. Molan wanted to run at the head of his hares, but Rutherford, one of the forge assistants, stopped them.
"Sah, you'd best not run unless y' have to. The braces should hold, but wouldn't be good t' put them under extra stress, sah," he advised.
"Yer right, I suppose," the badger conceded, and loped along at a reasonable pace matching that of the marching hares.
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Post by Captain Bigwig on Oct 22, 2016 20:27:23 GMT -5
At the call to march, the General moved, keeping a steady pace alongside Lord Lasair, knowing full well that to move ahead would be a mistake. His physical health was still greatly on the mend, and he - and everyone - knew he really shouldn't be coming along at all. That shame bubbled in his gut, but along he marched, refusing to show even the slightest hint of pain or regret at his choice.
Faintly, he wished the Major were here, a strong and steady-headed hare to move at the front, inspiring the Long Patrol in a way that neither of the older, less-than-functional nuts loping along beside them. Perhaps hiding his aches was truly the most inspirational thing he could currently provide.
Not one to make idle chat, he saved his breath, his ragged ear occasionally slapping him in the face from a gust of wind. The sound of Molan's braces as he moved created an almost comforting rhythm to march to.
After a short time, however, the General blurted, "Never felt this old before."
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Post by Taurian on Nov 2, 2016 3:56:05 GMT -5
Molan looked over at the general in mild surprise at his outburst. They knew that neither one of them often made small talk. If it weren't for the proud way that the general held himself, as if the injuries weren't there at all, the badger may have privately pitied him. Molan had felt the approval of their ancestors when they decided to allow the general to march with the Patrol after the vermin.
"And never did I feel so young," they remarked in return. "With age comes knowledge, wisdom and, sometimes," they chuckled and indicated their braces, "creaky joints."
In their mind, Molan went over the route to Redwall. It would be faster over water, but they knew that an incredible number of shrew logboats would be needed to transport the entire Patrol. Otters could maybe do it, if they had enough rafts. Molan made a mental note to ask the runners about any nearby holts when they returned.
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bye!
