forum Dystopian Fantasy RP aw yeah (Private)

Started May 02, 2018 by @Young-Dusty-the-Monarch-of-Dusteria group

tune

Tanrial shook her head, “No, the food was fine but there’s trouble out on the water.” She explained.

The man tensed, and behind him, his daughter's head poked through the kitchen door. "What kind of trouble?"
"Bandits, we think," Mike said quickly. "They're headed this way on rafts and boats. It looks like they're planning a raid."
The man's hand tightened on the rag he was holding. "We need to tell the village. You–" he pointed at Mike. "–stay here and help me defend the tavern and distract them. You other two take my daughter and the spare boat. Wake the warriors, and help get the others further out to safety. Hurry!"

Tanrial nodded and inclined her head to the little girl, “You’re gonna have to help us find where these warriors live, since we do not know.” She said.

The girl had gone pale, but she nodded and hurried for the door. "They're out on the lake with the rest. This way."
Bernon glanced at Mike. "Our stuff–"
"Don't worry about it. We won't let them get inside." Mike was already at the window, bolting the shutters. "Better go before you lose your chance."

Tanrial nodded, “You’re right, let’s go, Bernon.” She said following the girl out towards the boat.

They got to the boat and Bernon quickly took over the oars, rowing as hard as he could for the open water. The sun was gone now, and the only light was the eerie flickering of the distant torches beyond the tavern. In the stillness of the waves, it was possible to hear the voices of the bandits as they drew closer, low and growling. Bernon cut through the water as quietly as he could, trying to circle far around them to avoid being seen.
"I hope we make it in time," he whispered. Then his eyes widened. "Wait…Tanrial, where's Snatch?"

“I thought she was with you.” She whispered back, trying to keep calm but the little kernel of fear still lived inside her.
(Alright, bye)

"I thought so too!" Bernon quickly looked around the bottom of the boat and in the water around them, but the young cub was nowhere to be found. "What are we gonna do? What if she gets hurt or killed? She doesn't know to be afraid of those bandits!"
The bartender's daughter stared at him. "Who's Snatch?"
Not knowing what else to do, Bernon continued to row as hard as he could towards the boathouses. "She looks like a kitten but bigger, with brown spots. We've been looking after her, but she's so curious and fidgety, she must have wandered off somewhere in the tavern before we left."
The girl looked puzzled. "What do you mean? You never brought any animals inside. I would have seen her."
Bernon's face filled with the dawning realization. "Then that means…..we lost her somewhere else on the lake and I didn't even notice. She was my responsibility, and I couldn't even remember to check if she was hungry."

“Bernon. Calm down. We’ll find her. She hates water so she wouldn’t go swimming now would she? The only other place we’ve gone besides the tavern is Polla and Ozrig’s so if anything she’ll be there. Hopefully she is, and hasn’t caused to much trouble if it’s true.” Tanrial looked out across the water towards the only other hut they’d entered.

"You're right." Bernon set his jaw and focused on getting them there. "Hey, uh….what's your name, kid?"
"Rebka," she answered.
"Rebka. Can you help guide me to the right boathouse? I can't see which one to aim for."
"Okay." Rebka turned to look ahead, peering into the darkness. "Head right a bit. No, my right. Okay, now straight." She glanced at Tanrial. "Please help me grab the porch, miss."

Tanrial nodded, “Of course.” When the porch came into view and was able to be reached, Tanrial reached out with one hand to grab one of the wooden support beams, helping slow the boat down enough so herself and Rebka could grab the porch itself shortly after.

Rebka hopped out with the boat's rope and lashed it to the support beam while Bernon climbed out after her. "Let's tell Polla and Ozrig first so they know what's going on. We may not have much time."

“Agreed.” Tanrial hopped out of the boat and quickly knocked on Polls and Ozrig’s door. Hopefully they were awake.

It took a moment, but eventually Ozrig appeared, looking groggy and angry. "What?"

“There’s trouble in the form of bandits heading our way. We came to warn you.” Tanrial said.

That woke him up. Polla must have been listening from behind him because instantly she was there, tying her nightgown around her. "Oz, sound the horn good and loud. Rebka, stay here and man the rudder. You other two, there's pikes inside by the door on your left–take one each and get back out there to defend the tavern. We'll be right behind you."

“We have weapons already, but thanks.” She turned to Bernon, “Come on.” She hopped back in the boat and waited until he was in before untying the rope.

Bernon took a deep breath and set his back to the oars once more. "Hey," he called as they left. "Polla! Have you seen our pet cheetah anywhere? We don't know where she is!"
But Polla had already turned and darted back into the house.

“We’ll ask her later, you never know, she might show up and help us fight.” She said, turning towards the tavern

Bernon mumbled worriedly under his breath, but kept heading for the now well-lit tavern up ahead.
As they got closer, they saw that the bandits had completely surrounded the building and seemed to be trying to light it on fire. Luckily the soft, rotten, water-soaked wood was refusing to ignite, but it wouldn't be long before someone though to throw a torch onto the thatched roof.
"Hey Tanrial," Bernon grunted. "Can your animal form swim?"

“Sadly, it can.” She said then sighed, “You’re suggesting we swim the rest of the way, right?”

"Well….I bet we could get a bit closer and leap at them to scare them, but yeah, there will probably be some swimming involved." He set the oars inside the boat and cast her an apologetic look. "Shall we?"

Tanrial sighed, “We shall.” She shakily stood up in the boat, “You’re so dead.” She muttered before diving and shifting under the water, swimming with little grace towards the group.

Bernon did the same, keeping only the tip of his nose above the waves. Overhead, the rafts bumped and jostled each other, and the occasional oar or pike stabbed through the water, sometimes missing them by inches. Bernon swam over to the edge of the tavern's platform and gripped the edge with his claws. When you're ready, we spring up and drive them back. Try to knock as many of them into the lake as you can.
(brb, gotta have supper)