- Character Biography
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Keinruf was sitting at the edge of a park, safe in the shadows of the tall buildings of the Trenches, gloomily watching a squirrel and a rat throw an unripe melon at each other, then whack at it with sticks. His tail drooped over the end of the bench, and his whiskers likewise drooped. He hadn't murdered anyone yet. The math was upsetting. If he was to believe this so-called police force was as diabolical as they sounded, or the Kreehold, or the Stoatorian Guard, or any number of vaguely militaristic, justice-seeking (or otherwise) groups that might still exist, then he would have to play it very safe. He couldn't necessarily just go around stabbing everybeast he saw. He would need to sleep, and in sleeping, be defenceless and sought after.
It was a problem that was solved by doing what he was sent to do, of course. He'd just have to start with killing the ones who would be the most danger to him continuing with the rest. Until he worked out a plan to do that, there were other problems to consider. For instance, nothing in his mission briefing had mentioned woodlanders. The rat pup, easy, he could punt that little runt into a wall, stab, done. Like taking life from a baby. But the squirrel? What had the squirrel done to deserve it? Woodlanders were the enemy of the Imperium. And the enemy of his enemy was... was...
He wasn't sure.
Not a target, for starters?
How depressing.
As he idly watched, the rat had gotten her stick stuck inside the melon, and was waving it around like a mace while the squirrel screamed dibbun-appropriate profanities about cheating. This commotion drew out some older, slightly larger kits, with larger sticks, and a wobbling wagon full of more spherical items and broken mugs. Some of their sticks were table legs, some with large nails driven through them, and one had a very elegant looking rounded club. They were arguing, and the arguing only got louder as they got nearer, and some beasts in the upper storeys were opening windows and stepping onto balconies to observe. A ferret detached from the regiment and approached the marten on the bench.
"Oi, sir! Y'awright reffin' our circus scuffle for wagon an' mums?"
Keinruf stared at the ferret blankly long enough for some distant clock tower to start chiming over the city. A fox from the rear called out, "Aw Vulpuz's droolin' maw, Oi gotta go, that's me shift startin'!"
The ferret scowled and turned back to Keinruf.
"Or, we're down a Bounder, c'n ya lift a coconut an' hurl it?"
Keinruf continued to stare, continued to have no idea what was happening.
"Yes?" he said.
"Awright! Tag in, yer on Scuzzer's Mugs, we're against Th' Grand Notorieties on their territory, they're a lotta practicin' cheeks so skip wheezers an' don't step on the fuzzballs, an' it's a no-biscuit game 'cos of cheap sticks, an' don't worry about jigs or my gran, we ain't got none, so just for fun, aye? Even if it turns riot, as The Stinkbugs might come over if they hear about it. Still need ya on wagon an' mums though 'cos yer tallest."
Stab him, Keinruf thought. What he said was: "Okay?"
He stood up and let them lead him out into the street to join one of the groups. The other group of kits descended into chaos.
"Hey! That's not fair! We need a grown-up on our side then! Oi! You, yeah you! C'mon, let's play Whack Ball! Notorieties gotta protect our territory from them ugly Mugs, get in the circus scuffle!"
It was a problem that was solved by doing what he was sent to do, of course. He'd just have to start with killing the ones who would be the most danger to him continuing with the rest. Until he worked out a plan to do that, there were other problems to consider. For instance, nothing in his mission briefing had mentioned woodlanders. The rat pup, easy, he could punt that little runt into a wall, stab, done. Like taking life from a baby. But the squirrel? What had the squirrel done to deserve it? Woodlanders were the enemy of the Imperium. And the enemy of his enemy was... was...
He wasn't sure.
Not a target, for starters?
How depressing.
As he idly watched, the rat had gotten her stick stuck inside the melon, and was waving it around like a mace while the squirrel screamed dibbun-appropriate profanities about cheating. This commotion drew out some older, slightly larger kits, with larger sticks, and a wobbling wagon full of more spherical items and broken mugs. Some of their sticks were table legs, some with large nails driven through them, and one had a very elegant looking rounded club. They were arguing, and the arguing only got louder as they got nearer, and some beasts in the upper storeys were opening windows and stepping onto balconies to observe. A ferret detached from the regiment and approached the marten on the bench.
"Oi, sir! Y'awright reffin' our circus scuffle for wagon an' mums?"
Keinruf stared at the ferret blankly long enough for some distant clock tower to start chiming over the city. A fox from the rear called out, "Aw Vulpuz's droolin' maw, Oi gotta go, that's me shift startin'!"
The ferret scowled and turned back to Keinruf.
"Or, we're down a Bounder, c'n ya lift a coconut an' hurl it?"
Keinruf continued to stare, continued to have no idea what was happening.
"Yes?" he said.
"Awright! Tag in, yer on Scuzzer's Mugs, we're against Th' Grand Notorieties on their territory, they're a lotta practicin' cheeks so skip wheezers an' don't step on the fuzzballs, an' it's a no-biscuit game 'cos of cheap sticks, an' don't worry about jigs or my gran, we ain't got none, so just for fun, aye? Even if it turns riot, as The Stinkbugs might come over if they hear about it. Still need ya on wagon an' mums though 'cos yer tallest."
Stab him, Keinruf thought. What he said was: "Okay?"
He stood up and let them lead him out into the street to join one of the groups. The other group of kits descended into chaos.
"Hey! That's not fair! We need a grown-up on our side then! Oi! You, yeah you! C'mon, let's play Whack Ball! Notorieties gotta protect our territory from them ugly Mugs, get in the circus scuffle!"
