OOC- Here goes nothing…

IC- It was like a charcoal picture, with forest paint added in small green blotches.
  Ice covered the world added an eerie shimmer to the ebbing twilight. It was one of those days where the trees seemed to suck what heat you had right from your fur; just the right time for opportunists.
  Sandro crouched in his camouflaged hut, watching, waiting. It was still cold, but the mountains were also cold. He was used to it. Most creatures weren't, but they still had to travel. Even fresh snow and ice didn't change the flow of life. The ill prepared would be out.
  Birds began chattering excitedly then abruptly stopped. Strange He was proud to be the only freeloader along this stretch of the road.
  The northern ferret's nerves cracked at the sound of crunching snow… above him?

"Curses," a growl audited in an English accent. A miserable young 18 year old wildcat trudged through the snow. He was a hired mercenary by the name of James Ashton, who aspired to learn the ways of an assassin.

He clutched close his brown cloak. The surrounding environment did not agree with him at all. He had grown used to the more desert-like climates situated around where the Arvanis tribe roamed, from which he was bitterly exiled.

As he continued down the path, his observant senses took note of the hut near the road, decorated in such a way to conceal it from the unwary. He had been around vermin long enough to suspect a beast was lying in wait to strike when the opportunity arose.

A clever smile graced his muzzle as he decided to approach it directly from around the side. Adrenaline kept him warm. As he had no intention of parting with his belongings, perhaps it was appropriate of him to give the beast a considerable wake up call.

He quietly drew his scimitar as he made his way atop the hut. The birds have stopped their praises, now was the time to strike. He crouched down and readied the blade. His intent was to flush the creature out of its nest.

"So how durable is this little hiding spot of yours?" he called out from above. The wildcat proceeded to thrust the blade down, attempting to dig out an opening.

Luck started on Sandro's side. The blade drove through the canvas inches from his hind paw. He jumped a tail's length in the air and without a breath's hesitation he groped for his spear and rough sheath knife. Instinct kicked in and he knew he was on at the disadvantage. His narrow eyes flicked back and forth, praying to find something to use in defense. "Thank the stars," he whispered inaudibly.

James peered down the hole in the hut, and was about ready to jump down before the ferret had taken up arms. The knife seemed relatively benign in comparison to the long-ranged spear he possessed.

Close-ranged combat was also not his strong point. He smiled and withdrew his blade, shifting out his bow and grabbing an arrow to draw back. The only risk was that the spear could still reach him from his vantage point, were the beast to charge him before he could draw and aim.

"I'd out your cozy little hut, thief," he said triumphantly as he got ready to aim.

It was not his intent to kill. In fact, he was feeling rather playful despite his actions. Were he given the chance, he would allow the ferret a couple seconds to dodge before he released the arrow.

Fear boiled in his heart but it also mixed in with excitement, diluting it. He was not used to doing battle on his own ground, but he tried to keep it from showing. "Oh, you like my hut? Come and get it kitty!" I the wink of an eye he grabbed the vial of hot pepper oil and threw it the miscreant's face and jumped to one side. That arrow was going somewhere and he didn't want to be there.

"Ragghhh!" James emitted in a screech of discomfort as the contents of the ferret's vial stung his eyes and heated his lungs.

The stunned wildcat released the arrow in no direction in particular, releasing a vibrating thunk as it struck the wall of the hut.

He stumbled forward, coughing as he vainly tried to wipe out his eyes, and unwittingly falling into the hole he created in the roof of the hut. He quickly scrambled to his feet and drew his scimitar and assassin dagger.

"That was an underhanded trick, bloody ferret," he growled as he blinked at him through reddened eyes. He wasn't good with close-combat, but he wasn't about to back down just yet. He charged forward, hoping to catch him before he could oppress him with the spear.

Tanyn watch the goings-on from a safe distance hidden in the foliage. He was curious as to why two vermin were fighting each other. He wasn't about to reveal his hiding place.

Tanyn was scouting around for any other tribes. His tribe was wandering around this mountain and he didn't want to run into trouble just yet. He was used the the cold snow and rather enjoyed it. Having lived in different climates he could bear just about anything. He like the summer though because in the winter there was ice on the water which made it hard to swim.

He watched as the wildcat fell into the hut, Tanyn could see in through the door and so had a clear view of what took place. He decided now was about as god of a time as any to intervene before they killed eachother. Taking his long bow from his back he strung it and notched one of his very large arrows to it. This stepping out into view he stretched the bowstring and held it there.
" Hello friends" he said calmly.
" Now how about breaking up this little fight shall we?"

Good to have ya!

IC- Sandro wouldn't have exactly called him a friend, but arrows seem to work magic on creatures. He swiftly dropped the spear he was holding. But he wasn't going to give in to him just yet. The (What are ya?) was covering the wildcat and him, so there was a good chance he wouldn't make any moves. Parting shots were still legal. He smirked wide and said loudly, "Yeah, kitty. I would just best ya anyways. By the way, where did you pick up those spots? It looks like you fell into a paint bucket."

Taking his long bow from his back he strung it and notched one of his very large arrows to it. This stepping out into view he stretched the bowstring and held it there.
" Hello friends" he said calmly.
" Now how about breaking up this little fight shall we?

The wildcat immediately fell to a stopping halt. He recognized the sound of the drawstring all too well. He was actually rather startled by the otter's presence. He'd been so focused on the ensuing battle with the ferret that the creature had slipped passed his senses.

He smirked to himself as he tossed his scimitar and assassin dagger to the ground. The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, and this was excitement he greatly enjoyed.

He eyed the archer and smiled. "You have proven yourself persuasive, friend."

He smirked wide and said loudly, "Yeah, kitty. I would just best ya anyways. By the way, where did you pick up those spots? It looks like you fell into a paint bucket."

James looked to Sandro to respond. "Negative. I come from the desert savannas, mate." Seeing that they found themselves under an ultimatum, he decided that their little scuffle was over. He saw fit to be the first to introduce himself.

"My name is James Ashton, mercenary and former member of the Arvanis Tribe down southward." His sentence ended with a slight growl. He was recently considering omitting the last part from any future introductions.

Sandro's smirk dropped slowly. Shut up you fool! he thought to himself. His twisted sense of humor was what put him here in the first place. He didn't exactly enjoy being a predator, but it was his only way to survive. It was probably not best to shoot the fish in other people's barrels. His paw shot out energetically. "Sorrys about that. My tongue gets me in trouble is what folks says. Name's Sandro, roadside ferret, outcast, freeloader. Tell me if I talk all too much." Again, he offered his paw in greeting.

Stephen was far north, not an strange thing for him. It was a common feat for him to travel large distances in pursuit of a job or target. The cold didn't bother him that much, his purple coat was well insulated with goose down, fairly fresh too. "It's always slim pickings up here. Very dull and lifeless."
He softly mused to himself. Commotion could be heard not too far from his position, so he decided to commence an investigation. The hit man was itching to cause some blood shed, needless or otherwise. His approach was suttle and very light footed. He saw the creatures a wild cat, otter, and a ferret.
"It seems the water dog is trying to stop a brawl, I say let them end each other." The weasel said in his soft innocent voice, loud enough to be heard by the three at least. It was on purpose too.

Tanyn heard the voice. He lowered his bow.
Now that wasn't a half bad idea!
"Should of thought of that myself!" He said, He took the arrow off the string and looked at the Ferret and the Cat.
" Ok carry on!" Then he walked over to the weasel.
" Hi there!" He said keeping a paw near enough to his katana just in case.
" Thanks for the advice! I hope they do finish eachother off. So who are you? And what are you doing so far North?

"Sorrys about that. My tongue gets me in trouble is what folks says. Name's Sandro, roadside ferret, outcast, freeloader. Tell me if I talk all too much." Again, he offered his paw in greeting.

"A questionable trademark Sandro, but no sweatin' it. It's not like we have much of a choice, do we?" James responded as he shook his hand respectively. "If I have a problem, I'll let you know."

He turned to the otter. "As for you, that bow is…?" he stopped mid-sentence as he watched warily as Stephen approached them.

"It seems the water dog is trying to stop a brawl, I say let them end each other." The weasel said in his soft innocent voice, loud enough to be heard by the three at least. It was on purpose too.

Tanyn heard the voice. He lowered his bow.
Now that wasn't a half bad idea!
"Should of thought of that myself!" He said, He took the arrow off the string and looked at the Ferret and the Cat.
" Ok carry on!" Then he walked over to the weasel.

"Fool…" James muttered beneath his breath as he glared at Stephen and Tanyn. He exchanged a glance with Sandro before rolling forward and grabbing his scimitar and dagger.

He withdrew them as he sprinted back to retrieve his bow. He ran back out of the hut as he notched an arrow and pointed it at Tanyn and Stephen.

"I don't take well to having my life placed under a thumb. Please keep in mind that I rarely miss a target except by circumstance or purpose." He briefly glared at Sandro. "However, you in particular, otter, leave me curious. Where did you find that bow? Are you some kind of hunter? Rather, are you a tribe beast as well?"

Tanyn grinned at James.
" I can tell." He could see what James was saying was true, he could recognize a true archer when he saw one.
" Yes I am a tribe beast. In fact I am the leader of a tribe. I learned archery from my father who was tribe leader before me, he also passed this bow down to me.
And who might you be? And from whom did you learn to use a bow?" He did not recognize any of the tribe markings of this cat.

His mind was racing as he thought of how to get out of this tight situation, he looked at the weasel he had walked over to. He might be able to jump behind the weasel but then again… He decided to wait it out and see what happened.

" I can tell." He could see what James was saying was true, he could recognize a true archer when he saw one.
" Yes I am a tribe beast. In fact I am the leader of a tribe. I learned archery from my father who was tribe leader before me, he also passed this bow down to me.

"I see…" James muttered in response.

He never knew his parents, but the tribe leader, Gadvath, had acted as his father figure as he was growing up, taking him on the tribe hunts and teaching him the ways of archery. He greatly admired Gadvath for his skills and the authoritative power to lead the tribe.

Here stood a tribe leader before him, and so proclaimed by birth right. He held the position he had so desperately wanted.

And who might you be? And from whom did you learn to use a bow?"

"James Ashton," he responded. "I am a former tribe hunter, and at this point, it no longer matters where I came from. It is in fact its former tribe leader, Gadvath, that taught me how to use a bow. I knew not my parents, but he acted much like my guardian. By sheer young foolishness and greed, I challenged him because I wanted to become the new leader."

"I found myself, unable to kill him, and I was greatly injured. I was exiled from that tribe, and when I recovered, I took it upon myself to assassinate him," he finished as he eyed Tanyn.

"You should consider yourself lucky," he said with a slight growl before aiming at Stephen. "Weasel, I don't know where you came from, but I don't much appreciate you trying to start up a fight. I suggest you cooperate and introduce yourself, so that we may speak as proper beasts."

O'Malley laughed with merry in the tone. "I am Stephen O'Malley, head hit man of the south Mafia. I also suggest you put the toy away child, you'll put an eye out." He nonchalantly walked into the light, his pale figure almost invisible in the snow. His noose tie swung around his neck.
The weasel's odd purple attire was that of a noble beast who didn't take care of his things, tattered and frayed. His top hat had creases in it and his gaze was haunting. "Causing blood to spill is a pleasure of mine, on the job or other wise." Stephen drew his three sided blade and whisked around gracefully. "Just looking for some business is all I'm here for." The blade went back in it's holster and O'Malley was quiet.

OOC- Um, not to be picky, but a Mafia is a little modern. Do you mind changing the name? Feel free to be creative.

Sorry about my absence. Nice to see the thread moving along.

IC- A hitman with a personality? "Well, you see somethin' new every day." He hadn't realized he was speaking out loud until the last vowel had exscaped his tongue. Well, just play with it you fool! he thought to himself. Without pause, he reached down and plucked up is spear from the dirt and dusted off the handle. "Seems to me'll this snich-snatchering is getting us next to nowheres."
    He paused for a moment. "Hey Jamesies? Who was you's clan leader again?"

O'Malley laughed with merry in the tone. "I am Stephen O'Malley, head hit man of the south Mafia. I also suggest you put the toy away child, you'll put an eye out."

"Humph." James spat in contempt before decidedly lowering his bow. "I only ask that you address me by name, Mr. O'Malley."

"Causing blood to spill is a pleasure of mine, on the job or other wise." Stephen drew his three sided blade and whisked around gracefully. "Just looking for some business is all I'm here for."

"So you're a berserker," James surmised. "Not that I'm in any position to detest you for it. By trade we are similar. So, you may infer I have not business to give." He took a moment to examine him up and down. "Though I have to say, from what I've seen, you have by far the strangest garb."

"Seems to me'll this snich-snatchering is getting us next to nowheres."
    He paused for a moment. "Hey Jamesies? Who was you's clan leader again?"

James turned and blinked at him. "The leader of the Arvanis? His name was Gadvath, Gadvath Brushard. He is no longer among the living. I made sure of this. Have you perchance heard of him before?"

Tanyn sighed and started relaxing the grip on his katana. He could tell there was going to be a bit of bandying about and he didn't really have this kind of time.
" So is this going to get us anywhere?"

"The leader of the Arvanis? His name was Gadvath, Gadvath Brushard. He is no longer among the living. I made sure of this. Have you perchance heard of him?"

You challenged your tribe leader and killed him? I have heard of vermin killing their tribe leaders."
Tanyn did not like vermin who killed their leaders. He knew that was their nature but he still did not like it. Tanyn was a peaceable creature and could not stand killing, even though he did it alot himself.
" Are you two going to continue your fight or not?" He asked James and Sandro.

OOc: No problem Cyber.

Bic: O'Malley laughed at James's comparison of each other. "We are nothing alike. I have done things that little head of yours couldn't comprehend. I'm also not a…. berserker." He placed his sword back into it's sheath. "If nary of you have anything to offer, then I'm off, but a warning.
I go after any body I'm paid to get. Nothing personal, but a warn is fair." Before The weasel left, he turned and said, "Of coarse my apparel is odd, I was buried in it." Then Stephen left. "But I shall be back."

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