Devro back away from the wrestling otter and fish, hopping anxiously as he watched. He was completely floored by how large the fish was.
"Hit it over the head with something! You'll get tired before he does!"
As he spoke, the fish and the otter rolled closer. Devro kicked at the grayling, but got Bomboar in the side instead, then slipped in the fresh mud and landed on his back with a splat!
ooc- Devro needs to experience some everyday trouble that his friends aren't able to shield him from. Right now, his life looks pretty awesome. There needs to be something that all the characters struggle with to such a point that they can't fix it with a handshake and kind words. Ideally, the conflict would come from youngbeasts who have good intentions, but bad methods. I.E. getting his to steal a pie to be 'more like us' or Elders holding him to unreasonable standards because he is constantly under a magnifying glass.
Devro shrugged at Arries' comment. "If the Abbeybeasts each gave Abbot Caleb a gift, he wouldn't have room for them all. I think you're fine, Arries."
Then something resonated in Bomboar's words. "Yeah, I guess… we could all work together to make him something nice. A gift from all of us."
The race was short, but caused a small ruckus in the halls as the four young ones dashed about, dodging older gentlebeasts. In the end, in was good fun and no harm was done.
Arries won quite handily. As the four creatures arrived panting at the kitchens, the Friar was already standing in the doorway, looking somewhat indignant.
Friar Birtwistle's long ear's twitched and his mustache bristled below his pink nose. He wore a thick air of suspicious zeal and he held a thick ladle in one paw. "You young bucks lookin' fer a spot trouble? Eh? Not a one of you, or any otha' beast for that matter, will be enterin' mah kichten until further notice!"
Devro raised his paw a little, almost like he was asking for permission to talk. "Why not, Friar?"
The Friar puffed out his chest in further indignance. "Why? A dozen of mah Mossflower-famous blackberry pies are coolin' in the winda'sills. I count six candied chestnuts missing just this afternoon, and you want ta know why I won't letcha inta mah kitchen? You try feeding an Abbey full o' hungry beasts while dibbuns are snatching food from your kitchen, then try-"
This rant went on for a little while before somebeast in the kitchen called to him for some help.
The Friar's tone changed instantly to one of sweet affection. "Yes dear, I'll be there in a moment."
He turned to the young ones again with narrowed eyes. "Keep the paws off mah pies." Then he shut the door in their faces.
Devro made a face. "He's just mad because he forgot it's the Abbot's birthday tonight."
ooc- Forgive my hare speech: It's been a long, long, long….. long time.
“Whatcha up to? Did you see my tricks with the Abbey? I’ve been getting better, you ought to watch when you get the time!”
Then again, Al thought. It’s not like he ever has the time. Stoat or not, he’s one of us. Why doesn’t he ever act that way? - Alan
"Yeah," Devro replied awkwardly. "Yeah, I saw."
"So how are your projects? Build anything spectacular lately?" - Arries
"Spectacular?" Devor thought about his clunky too-fast clock. "Nothing spectacular. Maybe someday."
"Race you all!" - Arries
Devro's response to being called 'little Devro' was cut short by a flying chestnut.
"Did you snitch this?" he asked Arries. Being a vermin, his Redwall upbringing had been unusually strict. Although pinching candied chestnuts or pies from under the friar's nose was pretty typical of young Redwallers, he'd never struck up the nerve to do it himself. Even looking at the chestnut made him feel a little guilty.
ooc - Not a problem at all: My hope for this thread is that people will be fluid with Devro, almost making him a joint character. You could even make up things about Devro and his past, and I'd still be pleased as punch.
Devro straightened the fur on his head in mild annoyance. "Yeah, yeah, I'll think about it."
He was nearly the same height as Bomboar, but he was also whip as a willow. Part of him was embarrassed by how amicable Bomboar was to… well, everything. And that Bomboar could toss him around...
But that was Devro's problem. He knew he had to lighten up emotionally and put on a few pounds. And the truth was that Devro was glad to have Bomboar around.
ooc - Tinarandel wants to post too, so let's save the next reply for him.
How how would it be to implement this? The way that Facebook does it? The idea would be that people are notified the moment that their thread is replied to, so they don't have to constantly refresh the page. I've seen it on a couple of other forums and SMF has a plugin for it. I just have no idea how hard it is to implement.
ooc- My intentions for this character are to 'discovery-write' him. In other words, I will incorporate whatever your characters say or imply. His future is determined by the way he is treated by other characters (so feel free to have fun with that).
Devro dropped his hammer with a noisy clang! and shoved his little paw into his mouth, blinking back tears. His inexperienced paws were already bruised and beaten, and one of his claws was bent at an unpleasant angle from a previous injury, but Devro had an iron will that surpassed the pain of his mistakes.
He tasted blood on his paw and moaned softly to himself. He would have to go to the infirmary again. That meant another scolding about a mere youngster handling dangerous tools.
The tang of blood pushed dark memories to the surface, but he forced those down, too. That's not me. That was never me, he thought.
"Are you ar'ight, master Devro?" The cellarhog called around the corner. "I don't want the missus coming down on me about letting you use my tools, ya hear?"
Devro took his paw out of his mouth and dried it on his tunic, leaving a tiny red smear. "Yessir. I'm fine." That meant no infirmary. Besides, the other youngsters were always telling him to 'vermin-up'. He could stand to be a little tougher.
"Ar'ight then." The kind -though quite brusque- cellarhog went back to his work.
Devro had to use the cellar for his tinkering. No other beast in Redwall trusted him with tools, and there was nowhere else where he could hide from his peers. Thus, he spent a lot of time underground.
Stoats weren't a favorite at Redwall. A wimpy stoat was even worse: his height made him intimidating, but his thin frame and weak constitution made him as easy mark for bullies.
Devro stood up and looked at his unfinished work. It was a bulky and lopsided attempt at a clock, but it was his best work so far. With real tools he could have done far better.
I should make some real tools, he thought. I saw a book on it somewhere.
Devro sighed and stood up. His industrial spirit was worn out for the day. He pulled a shred of canvas over his unfinished clock and returned the hammer.
ooc- Feel free to run into him anywhere in the castle. I think this starts as a low-key high-school drama with childish dares, pretty girls, and small-time bullies. We could even time-lapse forward after a few scene, if you like.
1: I love you guys. I'm missed my Redwall peeps
2: I need something to keep me at my desk during work hours. If you post in a thread I am participating in, you can expect a response pretty much instantly (if it makes sense for me to respond).
3: I will mainly play side-characters and bandits, etc. If I disappear off of Redwall again suddenly, I don't want my absence to threaten your thread.
Let me know if you want to do any posting splurges with me while I'm on here.
Saula might have been glad for the interruption (for it kept him from having to reply to Jessie's questions) except that he recognized the horn. It was a Juska clan.
He blanched. He suddenly felt grateful for the Abbey walls that held him prisoner. This 'breakfast' ritual seemed fearsome, but at least it was unlikely to involve torture.
He turned to Jessie, expression haunted. "Saula's a poor starvationed criture. Donnae let the nasty wildcats hurts him."
ooc- Remember that -as far as Fabiana and Kylee are aware- Saula was just a starved creature who attacked Fabiana for food. She promised him "cakes" if he took her to Redwall. Saula won't be good at keeping his story straight.
Saula was already downstairs, sitting in miserably tight smock. His skin ached from the brutal scrubbing he'd suffered. The water in the tub had to be changed twice and Saula saw most of his fur get dumped out the window.
Now he closely resembled a threadbare smock. He was frightfully bald and skinny, and his stomach growled piteously. Breakfast was supposed to be soon (thought Saula was uncertain what this 'breakfast' was, he was certain the Redwallers intended to make him suffer). A elderly sister was attempting to prepare him by training him in the use of utensils. Saula supposed they might be used to defend himself once this… this 'breakfast' began. Kind of like that time when Dingeye tossed him a knife and told him to defend himself, then proceeded to beat him up.
Saula flinched visibly at the memory. He could still remember it clear as day. When he thought about his various beatings, he would actually feel the kicks, the broken bones and the bruises. When called on -and sometimes when not called on- his memories were a startling, lucid experience. As a result, he tended to shut out most of his memories. He knew very, very little about his own life before he was recruited...
No one could agree on Saula's age, and he certainly wasn't very helpful in determining what it was.
Saula jumped slightly as a somebeast sat down beside him.
Saula wasn't sure why, to be honest, but he found himself limping along behind the others, following them indoors. It wasn't the safety of the walls, the smell of good food or even the allure of the strange stone that drew him in. As frightened as he was, he somehow felt a need to stay with the group. Not because they were kind (which they weren't) or because they fed him (which they hadn't really). It was simply because some part of his tiny brain told him that he must obey. Always and without question.