Deadly Daring Do… Now with more Daring.

  • (A continuation of a private Rp started on another site between me, pillar and unknown soldier. Open to those who had characters in that plot)


    Once upon a time, our less than heroic but daring heroes had kidnapped the princess and were on their way to deliver her for ransome, with the kings less than merry and, if possible, less than heroic band of bounty hunters hot on their trail!

    Both parties had finally met at the river, both trying to get passage on the same boat.

    Will our heroes escape? Will Poppins be the first advisor to the king to live long enough to retire? Find out in the stunning conclusion of Deadly Daring Do… Now with more Daring!

    And now... The conclusion...

    "Can anyone tell me what happened there?" The humor was lost in Dylan's voice. To be fair, it was hard to be humorous while having ones paws chained to the wall. The dungeons were dark and dank and filled with the miserable screams of the doomed.

    "I mean, one moment, we were on top of the world. We had the princess, we had the boat, and then BAM. Suddenly we are clasped in Irons and sent here, ya know."

    The marten turned to thr muffled whine of his fellow prisoner. With an iron muzzle over her face, it was the only reply she could come up with. She was bound with all four paws behind her back and suspended from the ceiling. Below her was a bear trap of sorts, full of spikes and metal teeth. At the slightest movement, at the tinest attempt to make herself more comfortable, the chain would lower her closer to the gaping metal maw waiting to gobble her up.

    "Hmmhmmmph." She said.

    "I did NOT start the fire."


    "Honest! Well, maybe a little. That crazy back stabbing otter was on me. How was I to know there would be a vat of oil behind her?"

    The fox growled again until her chain lowered her closer to her doom.

    Elena whined pitifully.

  • "Can't blame her for attacking you," said dark-pelted, bulky pine marten next to Dylan. He was just as bound as rest of the gang; sitting on the floor, short chain connecting his shackles on the big iron ring bolted on the stone, not allowing him much room to move.
    "You were 'de one who sent her to be a messenger –  and 'den ditched her"
    Crookeye was the name this pine marten used nowadays. His real name was Knar, but that was a secret kept hidden from others. Mostly because Crookeye didn't wish the beasts he encountered make the connection between him and his past-self. 'Knar the Kinslayer' was what they called him back then. Or 'Knar the Badgerbane'. One of the many infamous bynames he had earned as Third-in-Command in vast horde army. It really was a story how a beast from such a rank had ended up in here. In this dark dungeon which walls echoed the shrieking screams, condemned like a petty bandit. Oh yes, it was quite the story, and while there were many reasons how his road had led him in here, the biggest turn of events must be the moment he took up Dylan for his offer to join his little band of thieves and cutthroats.

    Had it been a mistake? Knar really didn't know.  If Knar believed something called "luck", he would think Dylan had got both the worst and the best of it. First the gang leader had this grand plan rob the "riches of Kingdom of Gilmar" and actually pulled it off only to find out that this so called "riches" were just one loud, through and through spoiled princess, whose rotten personality was just unbearable. Then they were attacked, not just by beast-eating tribe but also an eagle that lived near the watchtower they had barricaded themselves in. And against every odds they had survived that. Killed the eagle, escaped the tribe-beasts, and the plan of use princess to get some royal ransom was set in motion.  For a while it seemed like all this would turn out be very profitable;  they had traveled to towards the meeting point where the exchange of payment and kidnapped would take the place. Only to end up meeting the King's bounty hunters on the road, resulting their capture.

    Bottom line, Dylan seemed to get into the worst kind of trouble, dragging the whole crew down with him. But then again, Dylan somehow managed to pull through. Somehow managed to be the leader he was supposed to be and turn things to his favor. Knar didn't know if he should be impressed from such tenacity, or just astonished that other was still alive.

    But this – Knar let his eyes dark eyes wander around, on the cold, unforgiving stonewalls that surrounded them – this might be pickle even Dylan's "worst-and-best-luck" could not save him. Or them.

    Knar grunted, leaning against the wall. Errot, the young weasel kid, was beside him, curled against his side for warmth. Kid was shivering. He had just started to recover from his fever and Knar was worried this cold and damp cell would set back that progress and make the kid sick again.

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