Mission:
Drear Woods was filled with great and tall trees, ranging from young birch saplings to old red-wood stumps. Many clumps of foreign floru graced its base which consisted of a rocky soil. This time of season caused the leaves to turn to a rusty hue and left many dried and crimpled. The canopy of the forest was dutifully orangish-red, and dazzling to the eye. It obliterated any sight of the blue sea above it, as well as any life forms. The name was aptly given by all vermin, as even though it was a magnificent sight to the strangers, their awe was quickly replaced by an empty and growing silence... so dreadful that those who started their way through, never ever made their way back out. Though, far beyond this woodland, loomed the immense building of Sampetra.

Three beasts emerged from the pathway, dust preceding them as they laughed like there was no tomorrow. Two rats and one pine martin with a red cap, made their way down the hill, each gesturing drunkenly with a jug of sea grog in their paws. They told each other crude jokes and drank merrily while flagrantly boasting of past deeds. As they came to a fork in the roads, a tranquility came over the three jovial beasts.

“Ar, har, har... Fivion, lessgo...” beckoned the two rats. The pine martin shook his head as if clearing thoughts.

“Nah, I ain’t goin’ thatta way! Looks too long.. sides, Mad-Eyes ‘spose t’see me soon... Let’s go inna forrest... tis fasta.” The pine martin, started down the road which led to a thicket of trees.

“Ummm,,,, Fivion.. Tis d’Drear Forest. I ain’t goin’ there! Nah uh!” Both rats adamantly refused to accompany the pine martin. “Ain’t ye heard them tales? Cap’n Shoner an’ Cap’n Drowl never came outa there three suns ago. L’tenant Crowno an’ L’tenant Gobble came back inna pieces. An’ eight other officers were pinn’d up on da fortress’ walls with black spears. Tis yer death!” The pine martin chortled arrogantly as he continued. “Bah, those uns are fish tales! Go be fraidy bellies!” He disappeared into the forest.

“Seasons o’hell! Whaddya mean that Fivion went off in the woods?” A pine martin dressed in royal garb slammed his paw down, clenching a familiar red cap, crusted over with dried blood. In front of him stood two cowering rats and a pair of stoats who bore spears. “Ye should at least gone wid him! You, take them and remove ‘em permanently from this land!”

The stoat guard that he pointed to, nodded and prodded the two rats out of the room, afterwards followed by a wail and thuds. The remaining guard stood in front of the enraged emperor then receiving his commands, he loped off to do Ublaz’s bidding.

A huge moniter and two equally large weasels stood in front of Madeyes, as he ranted on. “This makes twelve! It’s not that its a great lost, but those officers were both trained an’ perfect t’carry out orders! Make sure this doesn’t get out to the rest of the horde, ye unnerstan’? It’s demoralizing.. this Drear Woods tale. Gerrout o’me sight now, an’ send in the wildcat.”

The three officers scrambled out, as another figure approached. Shadowed underneath the doorframe, its lean form was hunched over, hesitantly awaiting. When beckoned, a wildcat emerged. Standing up to an imposing height, her tufted ears were pricked forward in mild interest, as an apathetic mien washed over any expression.

“Ah, Commander.. ye heard what’s the matter, eh?” The wildcat nodded. “Good, then I expect whatever t’is to be finished by sunrise.” Another nod ensued, and the wildcat turned around and left the room.

Bloodbane was clothed in a dyed tunic, and a small haversack was attached to her side. She wielded only a light ashen staff with ease as she trotted along the outskirts of Drear Woods. As the sky was turning a faint orange, she entered the forest running quickly until she came across a clearing. Sitting in the middle, she laid her staff on her knees, and closed her eyes until they became slits.

As night drew on, and the stars were past their zenith, Bloodbane became aware of flitting motion in the woods, from tree to tree or from the ground to the tree. Being perfectly still yet her senses acute, she remained in her inert position. Finally her efforts being rewarded, she heard a whistling behind her and swiftly gripped her staff, twirling around and knocked aside an ebon javelin which was speeding towards her.

“Why do ye nae run, vermin? Too scared to move?” rang out a hollow voice which seemed to surround the wildcat. Not answering, she remained in her position enduring the taunting of some unknown voice. A shadow continued to dart around, until it paused momentarily in front of the wildcat. Challenging, she rasped out for it to fight her. The shadow approached warily, as if accepting and stood a few yards before her.

It turned out to be some form of an otter, its fur blackened with ash, holding a body-length javelin. Stepping back into a defensive position, it tilted its head, as if judging Bloodbane. The wildcat, gripping her staff, leaped up and swung downwards towards its head, while a swift jab to its knees ensued. The creature blocked the head strike easily, and simple dodged to the side avoiding being tripped. It retaliated in swirling around its javelin, making a thrust at the wildcat’s chest then swung its butt upwards towards her lower belly. Bloodbane jumped back, using her staff to block the butt strike, then using the same swinging momentum spun around to sweep the otter off of its feet. The otter easily leapt over the staff and flipped a few paces backwards. Hefting its javelin, it cast it towards the wildcat who side stepped it. The javelin thudded into the tree trunk behind Bloodbane. The otter struck out with a jumping side kick at Bloodbane’s chest who dodged once more, backhandly swinging out her staff to strike at the flying otter’s back. The extra force sent the otter off balance behind her, and it landed onto the same tree that the javelin did.

Swivelling behind, Bloodbane heard a groan as she saw the otter pierced by his own javelin, as otter javelins are infamously known for being double ended in pointed tips. Sighing, she picked up her staff and hefted the otter off of the javelin, carrying it over her shoulder. Slipping into the Emperor’s personal room, she left the otter’s head on a platter, with a scrawled note.
“Tis the Terror of Drear Woods...”
~Mission Accomplished