Capital Furs

Jehs and I spent several hours brainstorming an idea for an RP thread last night and we came up with a fairly good idea. We don't intend to divulge much of the plot right off the bat, so that players can be introduced to it as we go. It's no fun if you already know what's going to happen, after all.

Here's the gist of the world you'd be playing in, though:

SETTING: The setting is a sort of medieval steampunk universe (like you see in some Final Fantasy games, if I had to provide some kind of example.) It's a fairly standard medieval fantasy setting, with a few very rudimentary steam elements (some exceptionally complicated guns, steam-powered carts and wagons, etc.) The story will begin in the Empire of Lyster, in its capital city (also called Lyster). The city is a sprawling urban centre, filled with stone streets and towering houses. It's a bustling city with a massive population.

The City of Lyster is home to a highly reclusive Royal Family and a government staffed by your usual assortment of somewhat corrupt nobility. People from all walks of life and all nations intermingle in her streets.

The Lysteri are a religious people and base their religion after Saint Lyster, the hero who freed the Lysteri from the yoke of an oppressive king and led them to the site of what would become the City of Lyster. Over the centuries, of course, details of the story have changed and the king is often depicted as a demon or devil and his legions as soulless murderers. This is the basis for the passionate sermons delivered at week's end by Lyster's many devoted priests.

The Lysteri are mammalian for the most part and share a border with their one-time oppressors, the reptilian Kingdom of Saan. While the two countries are not at war, trade routes have never been open between the two nations and their relations have always been hostile but careful.

More info will be revealed or fleshed out as we play.
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RULES:

• All characters should work within the setting. Anime kids, ravers and other types of characters generally not found within a medieval/steampunk setting are not allowed.
• All technology should also fall within the setting. No lasers, katanas, etc.
  
• This would likely qualify as low fantasy. There are no dragons (unless that's your character, and keep in mind that because of past events, there WILL be a stigma toward reptilian characters.) There is NO magic in this world. None. That is not negotiable. Alchemy (in the traditional sense) is permitted, but we're generally avoiding the supernatural in favour of dealing with believable characters.

CHARACTERS: We do NOT need a character sheet from you. It's more fun to discover things about the characters as you move along. Think of the setting, the mind-frame of the people in said setting and the kinds of things that would exist in a religious society when you're making your character. If you make an outwardly gay character, expect some characters to have a problem with that. If you make a foreign character, expect there to be some underlying hostility toward them. Remember that the Lysteri are religious and suspicious.

We have a few types of characters that we have fleshed out a bit who are instrumental to the advancement of the plot. We offer these characters for adoption to interested players. We haven't picked out personalities or species for them or anything, that's your job as a player. However, if you do want to play one of them, PM Jehs or myself and we'll fill you in on the roll the character fits into in the grand scheme of things.

CHARACTERS UP FOR ADOPTION (we need some of these, any that isn't claimed will be an NPC.)

• A Knight
• A Physician
• A Gangster
• Cronies For the Gangster
• An Agent for the Government
• A Store Owner
• A Teacher

Again, we don't want any Anime stereotypes or characters that don't fit in with the setting.

When the game starts, characters will be strewn about the city, all doing their things and allowing for the players to give each other a feel for their characters and how they'd like to play them. After a bit, the meat of the story will be introduced and should provide for a good, lengthy role-play.

Hell’s dragon-fire bathed the faithful clustered in Ambrosias’ dim, ramshackle chapel. Heaven’s radiance soothed the awestruck horrors disfiguring each face. Both, in alternating moments, issued from the spittle-flecked maw of the great tiger raging at the pulpit. His discourse thrilled with terror: visions of scaled devils – massive affairs of serrated teeth, cruel talons, and jaws stained with the blood of cubs – whose chill blood promised to the unworthy infinite, hopeless servitude, menaced the parishioners. His discourse uplifted: the warmth of Lyster’s paternal eye, and the abundance proffered through his generous, lordly nature woke passions in the stoniest breast. Not a sound broke the harmonious rise and fall of the priest’s voice, nor interrupted the echo of roar and exaltation; a collective breath was held. On occasion, a good-woman fainted and had to be carefully ushered through the press of the crowd.

In such a way, two hours were passed. At last, Ambrosias concluded: his roars dissolved into a light panting, his black robes settled from their continuous motion, and the fire in large, yellow eyes banked. His claws retracted. He scanned the sea of bodies before him, and then melted into it, touching, conversing, administering personal benedictions until the ranks began to thin and the stuffy air began to become breathable once more. Finally, but one unassuming figure remained.

The ancient, bent-backed weasel shuffled up to the big cat and pressed into his paw a small sack, made all the tinier by the gargantuan mitt enclosing it. He treated Ambrosias to a crooked, yellowed smile, and though the tiger returned a benign one of his own, his eyes narrowed in the slightest.

“A donation from my master, in respect to such meritable skills as you possess, Father,” he rasped.

The tiger nodded, and the weasel took his leave. Ambrosias remained frozen several moments, intently following his progress by eye and ear, attentive to the creak and groan of tired floorboards. His paw closed all the tighter ‘round the gift. Once the reign of silence became certain, he made a hasty retreat towards his quarters at the back.

His feet hit the cobbles hard and never stopped moving. He could hear the footsteps behind him; the sound of nailed boots striking stone almost as fast as his own bare feet were. Almost. He knew he had an edge, however small. He looked over his shoulder and counted three of them. They had gained a member along the way, it seemed. Ossos cursed his clothing, designed against the heat of the summer and for the purpose of flair, but not for subtlety. No matter where he went, they were sure to be able to find him.

There. An alley. The lanky ferret rounded the corner suddenly and tore down the gap between two tall house blocks. The reek of the sewer was fresh and the sickly shine of the cobbles heading toward one of the city's many drains suggested that someone's chamber pot had been recently emptied. He held his breath and vaulted over the stain, trying to put some distance between him and his pursuers. They were still behind him, he knew. No amount of ducking and weaving would allow him to lose them. They were as determined to catch him as he was to escape. A short stairway down toward the end of the alley caught his eye and tempted him with the promise of a doorway and a way out of his predicament. He took all five steps in a single jump and quickly pushed the squat wooden door open, relieved to find it unlocked.

He saw stars. He'd overestimated the height of the door and struck his brow on the stone archway that served as the portal's frame. Damned squat mainlanders! He thought feeling the warm trickle of blood running from where he hit himself. He heard a feminine yell of protest as he bolted through someone's kitchen but he ignored it in favour of knocking over her butcher's block and table in another attempt to slow the progress of his pursuers. He heard their frustrated yells from down the hall.

More doors, each one leading to another room, another hall, another house. The interconnected maze of homes in Lyster's famous blocks confusing him all the more. There was blood in his eye now and spattered across his open vest and chest fur. He needed to get home, or to at least find a haven somewhere in the city. The next door took him to the street again and he knew he needed to be inside again, out of the open and gaining ground. The boots were barely audible now; the angry shouts distant and fading. He shouldered his way through another heavy door.

There were stairs in this one and he took full advantage of that, gaining hight as well as distance. A bedroom down a hallway gave way to a solid stone balcony just mere feet from another identical patio. He climbed the rail, shut his eyes and jumped. He struck the side of the opposing rail awkwardly when he landed and tumbled a little before shaking off the pain and running more. The blood in his eye burned him and his head pounded brutally. He was half-blind and running. A few more doors and a few more angry tenants flew past him before he found himself in the dead quiet of someone's empty house.

Cautiously, Ossos made his way downstairs to find the place's kitchen and a ground-level window from which he could watch. The clanking of armour and the clopping of boots grew louder and, in time, went away. He'd lost them.

"Excuse me sir, but who are you?"

The voice caught Ossos off guard and it was all he could do not to scream in panic. He spun around suddenly and found a child. He relaxed. She was some kind of mouse, he could tell. Though his vision was fuzzy with the blood in his eye.

"I am call' Ossos, chyl. Ossos Rami." He said with a sudden smile.

"That's a funny name." She said precociously. "Where do you come from?"

"From de Islands." he replied.

"Ohhhh..." She answered. "Why are you here?" She had him at a loss.

"Why, I'm here to cook, chyl." he replied. "Some men, you see, ate my cooking. Dey not use' to de way we cook in de Islands. Dey not like de spices. Dey run afta me." He said by way of explanation. "I think dey overreact a little, maybe." The little mouse-girl laughed.

"Mummy's at market and she'll be cooking when she get's home, so you don't need to cook for me." Ossos felt his shelter melting away. If he had to leave, then he'd need a few things.

"Chyl," he began. "Does your mummy have a little mirror or somet'ing?"

"Sure! Mummy's really pretty."

"Of course she is, chyl. Could you bring dat here? And also some needle and t'read?" The little girl nodded and Ossos thanked the spirits for his facility with children. He took a cloth from the kitchen's basin and washed his face with it, splashing some water in his face to clear his eye. His blue vest was rather stained and his fiery red, orange and yellow pants weren't doing much better. He felt dizzy and realized that the cut on his head was bleeding heavily. He took a length of cloth from a drawer and tied it around his head to staunch the bleeding for the time being.

"Here it is mister!" The mouse girl said, returning to the kitchen. "Isn't it nice? Mummy always buys nice things." She mused.

"She sure does, little t'ing." he said as cheerfully as he could. He felt pale, his heart was beating hard in his chest. He took the needle, thread and a piece of hammered, polished silver he guessed the mother used as a hand-mirror and bowed. "But now I mus' go." Ossos said with a gracious bow, a terrible headrush coming over him as he straightened out again. Without any more ado, Ossos found the door to the street and, carefully as he could, headed for home.

It was small. It had some kind of fluffy white thing on the end of it and it skittered across the stones like a beast of hell.

Shayde was being chased from the university, again. He'd blown up his 3rd laboratory this year and was too busy running from his professors and classmates to notice that his whiskers had caught fire,yet. The little tiger bolted like mad, clutching his hat to his head and his books to his chest, trying ever so hard to outrun the burly men behind him who looked rather nonplussed to have been exploded or set aflame by one of his contraptions.

The tiny thing darted into the arts hall, knowing full well his small size would be his advantage, having run here several times before. The university's stage was grand enough to have a labyrinth of stage tunnels just right for him to dart through. He guffawed at his pursuers,”Ha! You won't ever find me down there you buffoo-ooof!” The mockery was cut short by the small beast's own clumsiness, having collided with a post for the second time this morning. He tumbled, almost losing his precious hat in the process darting for any open trap door he could find.

Sadly his escape was not to be. In his mad scurry the coat clad cat managed to collide with a cumbersome and callous cougar. His name was Professor Frederic Herschel and he delighted in pinning his troublesome student to the floor as the rest of the mob arrived.

The small cat was quickly rendered unconscious, all the easier for him to be brought before the dean and punished. A drip,drip,dripping soon woke him, he found himself in the detention cells below the former prison's campus. A deep and unimpressed “Harumph!” soon met his ears, drawing the tiger's attention the the rather irritated bear outside his cell.
“Good morning Dean Murdoch! Or is it afternoon? I can never tell down here,”chirped the feline. The bear retorted in a bored monotone, “It's noon, and somehow you've managed to blow up yet another laboratory... How many is that this year? Five?” The tiger cut him off,”Only Three, I'll have you know! I've improved substantially!” The ursine continued, apparently accustomed to being cut off,”However many you've destroyed, you know what it means. Your debt will be increased. Now lets see... There's the statue. 400 stone of granite and 2 months labour, so about 50 clove of gold should do. The labs and all equipment ran us 100 stone of gold each. The fountain was-”
Again the brown bear was cut off by the small feline,”I fixed the fountain, thank you! And from my own pocket no less!” The larger mammal continued without hesitation, “Fine, the fountain is paid. But that still leaves the west wing of the library, replacing all of those books has cost us easily 200 stone of gold and repairing the damage is another 50. Finally bringing us to my old office, now I'll be gentle with this as it's granted me a far larger one, but for the artifacts you destroyed I'd say that's easily 150 stone of gold.”
The hefty looking brute began counting on his digits, mumbling to himself for a moment, “Hmmm, carry the 2.... yes. So in total, you owe, 725 stone of gold. So 1450 Derra, not including tuition which is another 100 including the dormitory fee.”
The cat sputtered,”1550!? Surely you jest! That's all of my savings and another half! There must be some way I can reduce the debt! Some work that's been requested of the university. Perhaps the royal military needs weaponry?”
The bear began to rise, dusting himself off, “We shall see. You'll be let out tomorrow morning, as per the usual procedure. Sleep well.”

The only light in the cell was soon snuffed, leaving the tiger to ponder in the dark.

A loud knocking at the door to his office where he was napping at his chair. after a minute he shuffles out of his chair and open the door to a frantic looking ferret. "Doctor Tammas, there's been an accid-."
The rox's yawn cutting off the ferret nurse's voice to himself, and with a shake of his head to shake his groggyness, making his long ears go all over the place in the process, asks him weairlly "What's the matter, nurse?"
The ferret sighs lightly "I told you, there's been an accident at the Training grounds." He almost yells, making the rox cringe a little.
But upon hearing this, he wakes up from his drowziness quickly. "What? What happened?" As he quickly grabs his medical equipment from his office, and follows the ferret through the hallways
The nurse followed closely behind him "A trainee got hit with a stray arrow, it peirced through his leather training gear and hit him in the ribs. He's bleeding badly and he's unconcious."
He slows his pace as he gets to the room seeing a huskie doctor already there and nods to him. "I see your helping out to, Trak... good, this could use an extra set of paws.
The canine doctor turns to the rox and nods. "Yea, this will be tricky, thanks Tallaan" as he walks to the patient's side, opposite the arrow
Tallaan groans lightly as he walks to the other side, starting to unpack his tools "Don't thank me Trak, thank Martin. the annoying ferret woke me up while I was napping, speaking of which, get in here, we'll need the extra prep help.
Though annoyed, he walks in, and put both the doctor's tools on benches, as well as other small things, as the doctors look over the poor young vixen on the table. "Unlucky girl, brave too, training at this age, too"
Tallaan tisks a bit as he looks over her. "Yea, she is either really brave, or her parents might be forcing her to train. Either way she is unlucky for sure, but yea, enough gabbing, let's start" As he grabs a surgical blade from his bench and looks over the wound. "The arrow is deep, but I think we can still save her, we'll need to be quick though, once we pull out the arrow, she'll bleed fast. Be ready with stiches and turniqits"
Tark nods as he grabs some thread and a hooked needle, as Tallaan grabs the holds the arrow solidly and starts to cut the armour around it. Then uses the knife to shave the fur around the arrow 'alright Tallaan, I'm ready on my end, begin when your ready"
nods as he motions to the nurse to pull the curtain closed and they begun.

4 Hours later, they open the curtain, both breathing heave, with tired looks over their faces. But both looking at each other with a relieved look over their faces. "That was rough, but she should pull through, thanks alot Tark, Martain. Ugh I'm beat, I'll be in my office, I need a nap after that."
Tark just laughs and pats his back, and goes to clean his tools. "Just don't forget to wash your tools up."
"Yea, I will, i just need to rest up, wake me up in a couple of hours." As he saunters off to his office. Martain follows behind him, sighing, writing a reminder note on a small piece of parchment as he walks behind him, the note remininding him to cleans his tools.

"Salah! Get up here and gimmie a hand with these herbs already, will you?" the feline from the second floor green room, wondering what on earth was taking his assistant so long. It wasn't like her to doddle like this, which made him wonder what was keeping her so occupied.

"Quit your yelling will you, I'll be right there!" the woman replied as she climbed the stairs. It seemed like the mouse's boss had become more demanding of late, but considering that they were right in the peak of the shopping season, he had a right to be. She backed into the room, pushing open the door with her behind to make sure that she didn't spill the tray of jars she was carrying, blinking to adjust he vision to the room's brightness. "Jeese boss, what's got your panties in a bunch? We don't open for another two hours," she stated, setting the tray down on a table in the middle of the room. She sighed and looked over to the cat who was hunched over a large pot of herbs, tending to the task of trimming the leave from the plants before him.

He cast a look back at her, a touch of annoyance behind the blue swirls in his brown eyes. "Firstly, I've told you a million times, call me Tassik, or Mr. Cormal. Boss sounds too... slacky. And secondly, its because the Wolf's Bane is ready for harvest, and you know darn well have to get it done quickly, otherwise it gets too strong and we can't sell it," he explained, turning back to continue his pruning of the leaves, setting them out over the paper layed next to the pot. His tail flicked back and forth as he worked, making sure to cut just at the right spot on the stem, so that the plant would sprout again next season. "Would you go gather up the herbs layed out in the drying room and start crushing them? I think they should be ready by now," he asked, motioning absentmindedly with a paw towards the room to his left.

Salah rolled her eyes and and chuckled. He got like this with every harvest, and thankfully she'd grown accustomed to it quickly. It was a good thing he was a good employer, or she'd have clocked him through a window ages ago. She picked up the tray and made her way to the drying room, glancing at the other door in that direction that always remained locked. She'd always wondered what was in that room, but the first time she'd ever asked Tassik about it, it had also been the last. The feline had fixed her with an intensely serious look, one she never thought he'd be able to give and had asked her to never inquire about it again. And of course she hadn't, but that never stopped her from wondering about it.

As Tassik finished his work, he wiped the sweat from his brow. Normally heat didn't bother him much, but being that this was of course a green house, and that he'd chosen to leave on his long white lab coat, he was a touch hotter than normal. He set down his tools and observed the leaves, smiling to himself at the successful harvest. He turned to face the drying room, calling out to Salah. "Once you're finished, come bring the Wolf's Bane into the drying room, then meet me downstairs. Bring your notebook too, I've got more notes on some basic apothecary duties to take down." And with that he made his way downstars. He liked the fact that he'd found a proper assistant to help him with the tasks of his profession, but he had to admit, the mouse was a stubborn one when it came to studying, so he intended to make he do so as much as he could. He wipped his paws on his coat and made his way over to the counter of the store, adjusting the placement of some of the bottles on the shelves. Just as he was reaching to right a bottle of Poison Oak that'd fallen over, the front door's opening bell jingled, indicating the presence of a custormer. He turned with a greeting smile. "Welcome to Tassik's Apothecary, anything I can help you f-..." He stopped and stared at the person in disbelief, dropping the jar in his paws with a crash. What were they doing here...?

(Jehs, being rather busy with school work has informed me that she'll be another day or two getting to her next post and advised me to go ahead and post in the meantime. So blame her if the post order is mixed up)

Ossos could tell Jeran was home by the delicious smell wafting out of the window of the kitchen they shared. He peeked in the window just to check that it was indeed Jeran before lifting the latch and walking into the simple unit that served as his home. His was a home like most in the less wealthy parts of the city: it was part of a much larger whole, repurposed from what was once a massive garrison hall inside a wall that used to serve as the castle bailey and connected to a myriad of other homes through a connecting maze of doors and hallways. The front door opened into the kitchen while a perpetually locked door in Ossos' bedroom led to a neighbour's bedroom; his raucous neighbours –newly-weds, he discovered– kept him awake almost nightly. It wasn't what he was used to, but for the time being, it served his purposes. Again the smell caught his nose and the ferret smiled warmly.

A pot of some kind of hearty stew boiled over the kitchen's cooking flame, next to the simple, glassless window. The wooden shutter was open to the cool, early-summer breeze and the view was that of Grocer's Way, a busy commercial street. Ossos dipped a ladle into the pot and sipped the bubbling stew daintily, tasting beef and vegetables and just a hint of the spices he loved so much. Jeran was a good cook, for a Lysteri. But then again, Ossos had taught him everything he knew.

"You know, you could just wait until it's finished. I made enough for the both of us."

Ossos, startled by the sudden voice, spun around to find a tall rabbit in a blue rough-spun shirt and brown sack pants standing in the doorway that led to the stairs.

"Jus' wanna to mek sure you not usin' too much spice, Jeran, my fren'." Ossos replied with a sly grin. Jeran was Ossos' roommate, apprentice, and his best friend in Lyster. The rabbit was tall enough to need to duck through the doorway to keep from clipping his ears as he passed, which was somewhat unusual in a nation filled with small people. He cocked his head.

"Ossos, I believe you've cut yourself." He said with just a hint of concern and a wry grin. "Whatever happened?"

"I was cookin' like I always do when some serious lookin' solja's come in." He said in his rather colourful accent. "So I figya, I mek dem my specialty, yeah?" The rabbit nodded, giving him the indication that he knew the dish and inviting the injured ferret to continue. "I mek it jus' right. All de spices, all de meat, lots of broth an' bread. Suddenly, dey grabbin' dey mouths yellin' dat I'm a sorcerer or a demon or somet'ing. Dat I conjure de demon-fires on dey tongues. Dey took dey swords out and came afta me like monstas, I tell you. So I run from dem. Took me almost twenny minutes to lose dem."

"Did they give you that?" The rabbit asked, motioning towards the gash on Ossos' brow.

"Nah. Dat was me. Smashed my face goin' t'ru a door while I was runnin'."

"Well, take it easy a moment while I fetch you some water." Jeran said, picking up the kitchen basin and heading out to the pump in the middle of the cobble street. Ossos didn't protest. He'd had quite enough of Lyster's streets for the time being. He dragged a chair over from the small, bare table in the corner and pulled the needle and thread he'd procured from the little girl's house from a pocket in his vest. He threaded the needle and waited for Jeran to get back with the water. In a moment, the rabbit was ducking through the doorway with a wooden basin filled with clear water. He grabbed a cloth and tossed it over to Ossos gingerly.

"Where'd you get a needle and thread?" Jeran asked.

"From a little girl while I was runnin'. Ended up in her home. Mama wasn't dere, ya know? She din' ask no questions, jus' got me de needle and t'read. Good girl." He said, dabbing the cloth in the proffered basin and carefully cleaning the dry blood from the fur in his brow, wincing now and then. "Why is everyt'ing made so damn small in dis country?" He asked between swipes with the cloth. "At home, everyt'ing is tall and spread apart. No-one livin' like fish in a net, like dis. No hittin' yo' head on doors, either." He started to stitch, stuffing the cloth in his mouth to bite down on while the thread passed through the cut.

"You should really shave that before closing it. What if you get fur in it?" The tall lapine noted. "It could get infected, you know." Ossos pulled the cloth from his mouth for a moment.

"Do YOU wanna take a blade to dat cut up dere? Maybe 'ave it bleed all ova you?" He spat back through the haze of pain. He was incredibly aware of the thread in his face. He stuffed the cloth back in his mouth and bit down on it while he continued pushing the needle through the cut.

"By the by, they're posting bills outside. I saw one up near the pump. Apparently the Royal Council are setting up some kind of expedition. I'm hearing talk that they're considering setting up some kind of settlement in the hills near the border with Saan. Why they'd want to build so close to the Demon's doorstep I'll never know..." The rabbit had been stirring the stew and now moved to snuff the fire, emptying some of the basin over what was left of the smouldering wood. He grabbed two plain, wooden bowls and ladled some of the thick stew into them. "Here, food for when you're finished." He said, laying the bowl down on the table in the corner. "If you don't end up liking it then that's your own fault. I used your recipe, after all.
Ossos winced through the last of his stitching and used a kitchen knife to cut the thread.

"What's dat you were sayin' about a settlement near Saan?" Ossos asked, his voice returning to normal. He stood, tossed the cloth into the basin and walked it to the door. "Actually, tell me in a moment. I'm gwan empty dis t'ing out dere." Ossos took the basin out and emptied it into a gutter along the side of the cobbled street, watching the bloodied water run down into the city's drains. As he looked up, he saw a familiar trio of guards rounding the corner of his block of houses. Keeping low, he ran back inside with the basin, taking care to watch the window to ensure they'd passed. Turning around, he found the chair he'd used had been returned to the table and was now occupied by a curious-looking Jeran. Ossos took the other chair and dug into his soup with abandon.

"Dem guards again." He said by means of explanation. He took a mouthful of the stew. "Ah. S'good, fren'." He said. "A little bit more of the red powder maybe nex' time. So, what's dis about a settlement?"

"More heat, right. Well, for reasons only Lyster must know, the King and Council have decided to start some kind of expedition. The settlement part is all rumour for the time being, but it's a prominent rumour. I heard four or five people talking about it just while I was filling the basin." Jeran took another mouthful and pondered it a moment. "You're right. It could bite a little more. In any case, there's to be a public forum about it tomorrow around mid-day. You should go. If those guards think you're some kind of heretic, it might do you some good to get out of the city for a while. Every expedition needs a cook.

"Some t'ing to t'ink about, fo' sure." The ferret replied between mouthfuls of stew."But if I go, fren', you be able to pay de rent wit' out me?"

"I'll make do."

"Tomorrow, mid-day, you say? I t'ink I'll go fin' out what dis is all about..."

You shame us both. . .

The words reverberated most unsettlingly inside of Ambrosias’ skull; they pounded just behind his closed eyes, as violent captives. The tiger moaned low in his throat and growled in restless slumber, his great body thrashing about beneath coarse sheets. Some hours following, he jerked upright in his bed: his eyes snapped wide open, his ears pricked forward at attention, his mouth hung slightly open to permit his rapid pants, and the whole of his person shook with the fearful tremors which wracked it. The words still prickled at the edge of his newly rediscovered consciousness.

You shame us both. . .

Ambrosias shuddered in disgust.

Half-frantic, he swiped at the half-full cup at his bedside table. Water sloshed out over the lip as he bore it swiftly to his mouth, spattering against the floor and his velvet muzzle. He downed the contents at a gulp, and then sat there expectantly for some moments. At length, as nothing occurred, a dark expression crept o’er his already stern features, and he hurled the empty vessel in a sudden fury. The wood cracked with the force of the throw when it met the stone floor.

No, no, no, no, no. . .

You shame us both.

The appointment!

Ambrosias leapt from his bed, roughly rubbing paw-pads against brow and temple; the ghosts of sleep retired only with the greatest reluctance. He snatched up a simple robe, smoothed down the snarls in his striped coat, and stumbled towards his chamber door. He spared the wash-basin but a passing glance. His morning ablutions could await his return; dawn was now approaching the point of breaking.

He forced himself into some measure of dignity; he strode purposefully towards the rear of the chapel, but restrained his pace. The great feline slowed further still upon entering the shadowed alley there, hugging the wall and extending the tips of his claws. Ambrosias moved with irreproachable stealth, but the weasel spotted him first nonetheless.

“Chosen of Lyster . . . you are late.” The weasel clucked his tongue disapprovingly.

The tiger but stared coldly. The corners of the weasel’s mouth curled upwards most terribly.

“I did not much mind waiting to deliver today’s donation, however. I think you will find it of a different nature than you expected.”

The elder shuffled forward a few steps, shoving pawfuls of bills at the priest. Ambrosias bristled, but silently, and collected the papers; his eyes, gleaming in the low light, did not leave his associate.

“You are desired to advertise this expedition to the utmost. Be sure that this information reaches persons in your community of good use. Encourage it, too, from your pulpit, once you have finished your daily discourse upon Virtue. . .” The weasel’s smile broadened a degree, as if at an old joke. “Further donations will be arranged in accordance with your performance. My master, like yours, is full aware of how to taketh away just as well as he giveth. . .”

Ambrosias growled softly and tightened his grasp upon the papers. A vein twitched along his throat. “I will examine these closely, and should the content prove acceptable for a house of Lyster. . .”

“I am certain that you will find it possible to reconcile yourself to the matter. . . You will find no hidden scales in these innocent adverts.”

“We will see.”

The weasel nodded. “We will indeed; though, were I you, I would not linger too long given the import of your performance. . .” The hunched figure seemed to meld into the darkness even before Ambrosias’ very eyes, slowly retreating as the morning began to intrude upon the alley. His rasping voice floated out to him. “Rest well tonight, Father.”

Big wooden doors are always ominous, and considering the Tiger that stood in front of this one was a runt, most wooden door are ominous, this one most of all. The short cat didn't want to go in there, but he did anyhow, tugging on the heavy handle with all his might to drag the massive door open, forcing him to face down a very happy looking Brown Bear. Shayde was positively frightened by the sight of Dean Murdoch, sitting behind his oaken desk, smiling ever so pleasantly. The Dean never smiled, at least not often, but when he did, it was never good news. The feline adjusted his coat and hat, tentatively stepping forward, totally caught off guard when the happy ursine voice boomed across the room, “Come! Come sit down Shayde! I have wonderful news for you!”
Every follicle on his body stood on end, whatever this news was that made the Dean smile so, was sure to be horrendous. “I've found the perfect way for you to repay your debts, my Lad! Not only that, but it stops you from incurring more, reduces it initially and gives you extra to boot!” The bear laughed as he spoke, never a good sign. “Please tell me I've not been indentured as a slave in the mines again. It took me weeks to get them up and running properly and months still to get the smell of mole off of me.” The ursine chuckled, only amused further,” Ha! No Lad, not this time. We've found you something far better. Far more suited to your many skills. You see the Council is posting about for an expedition of sorts, they wish to establish a new settlement near the border of Saan. Well I sent word to a friend the moment I learned of this and it seems they're in dire need of a mechanologist and could use some of your expertise in other fields as well. It's absolutely perfect! You'll be off campus, not be charged for your dormitory, and make more than enough to pay back the 1550 Derra, well 1500 now.”
He couldn't help but ponder, for once the bear was happy about something that wasn't so bad. The trip could prove most entertaining, he would have plenty of opportunity to put his studies to practical use. “You know, I just may take you up on that. It's a perfect opportunity indeed!” The brute reached over his desk and clapped the smaller male on the shoulder, knocking him out of his chair,”Whoops! Splendid none the less! Those in charge of the expedition will send word when they are ready. For now prepare your things for the trip!” The runt picked himself up and made for the door, “Thank you Dean Murdoch! You shan't regret this!”
As he made his way through the big wooden door again, it didn't seem quite so ominous.

(Sorry that took forever, laptop broke with what I was writing in it)

Random thumping can be heard from the rox's office, followed by a crash of glass and a mumbled swear. A minute later, he comes out, rubbing his head with one paw and looking over the note martain gave him. "I have gotta stop sleeping here, it's bad for my health." As he goes to his tools, to start cleaning them up, he notices the vixen still sleeping, and decides to check fer wound before he cleans his tools. he tentitavly probes the injury, and notices swelling and whispers "hmm... looks like an infection... might want to drain it..." as he walks back to his office and quickly grabs a jar fom just inside and walks back to the vixen's side and opens the jar. Slowly he fishes out some leaches and places four of them on the possibly infected area. "This should help, now to get to those tools." As he's cleaning his tools nearby, he hears a scream from the room, and rushes back so see the vixen awake and brushing off the leaches. "Hold on, hold on, it's alright, your in a clinic, calm down girl."

After about ten minutes to calm her down, and another 5 to get some more leaches on her, to her dismay and sits her down on her bed she talks starts to talk to him. "Forgive my outburst, sir, I'm just not to good with things that feel... slimey" she shudders as she utters that last word.

Tallaan just chuckles and rubs her sholder. "it's alright, my leaches freak out some patients, but you don't need to worry, they're draining the pus from an infection. If I didn't use them then i'd have to cut to drain the pus... which isn't pretty in the end." He chuckles a little as he goes to grab a hot bowl of water and his unwashed tools, and places them on a nearby table, and starts to wash them. "So, tell me, what's a cute vixen like you training for?"

She looks at him a little suprised as she sits up a little. "I just want to help our guard, to serve and pro-"

"Protect and all that blather eh... heh, i know... but there's sometimes reasons other then that... what's yours? Heck I don't even know what your name is yet." Tallaan laughs, as he washes his scalpel

The vixen gets a little startled and clears her throat. "Well I suppose I should tell you my name, I am Yasmin, Squire to Knight Lex." then she glares at him. "I'll have you know I did join to do my piece in this world, my parents we're both against it."

Tallaan just chuckles to himself and looks at her. "So you are a brave girl, eh, looks like I owe Tark 5 Derra. My name's Tallaan by the way, and I'm the local physitian, along with Tark, and our nurse Martain... who are probably home for the night."

Yasmin looks at him with a thoughtful gaze. "Well, seeming your so suspicious of my intentions, what about yours, why did you become a physician?"

For a second, his face saddens, and grows grim "It's a long story, one that I never want to drudge up." His face slowly softens again, though still frowns a little "So please... don't ask... some demons should just remain quiet"

The vixen slowly nods and slinks back a little with a little shuddering laugh, showing she knows what he means.

With this his gaze softens quickly and turns back to cleaning the rest of his tools. "so you mentioned that you're a squire, eh. So your training under, Knight Lex." Chuckles as he motions around his eye "it was a pain in the ass to stich his eye back togeather, wasn't able to save the eye, but he's a tough ape" He laughs as he looks at his leaches on her wound, and grabs a few of them and whispers to himself "heh, these guys are full."

Yasmin winces slightly as feels the leaches being exchanged "So you know him? He scared me at first, but he's just a big softie... between training sessions. "she chuckles a little and smiles. "We're set to go escort an expidition starting tomorrow."

"What, hell no, you need a few more days bedrest to let that wound heal properly. If it get's infected again on the way, it could be dangerous to your health, if not treated properly, it could cause complications... possibly even kill ya." Tallaan nearly yells at her, but softly puts a hand on her sholder to show that he's not trying to be mean.

She looks a little shocked, but see's that he just worried about her and speaks up "Then what do you expect me to do, and Koal's already out and won't make it back till next week. I'm Lex's only squire that can help him right now."

Tallaan ponders for a second, thinking of the situation. "Will there be another physitan along who could possibly tend to the wound?" which gets a quick shake of the head from the vixen in the bed. "I see... and it's to late to try and wake up Tark, or even Martain, let alone have enough time for the both of them to prepare for it." Tallaan lets out a long sigh, as he walks to his office, mumbling about quiet days being over and as he dissapears behind the door, a light sound of breaking glass can be heard followed closely by a stiffled swear.