Suggestion 2015/02/01(Sun)15:15 No. 623179 ID: 40c185
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“Oh my, sweetie, I asked your age, nawt about your graze! You din’t have ta share so much personal stuff wit’ me!” I say. Oh, I hope I’m not making him embarrassed, the Diggers know I am!

“H-huh? N-naw, Ms. Miriam, it ain’t no t’ing. Sometimes—”

“Dear, you just call me Miri! All my friends do.”

“R-right, Ms. Mi— er, Miri. Ain’t no t’ing, Miri. I should’ve paid more attention.”

“So what is it?”

“What’s what?”

“Your age, sweetie, how old are you?” I feel like I shouldn’t laugh, but I can’t help myself a little…

“Twenty-one years.” I guess it doesn’t matter, since he’s back to being cool and calm like he was last evening when we left the Burrow.

“Why, you’re nawt much older dan my own son! Maybe you two played togeder?”

“Maybe. What’s his name?”

“He’s little Uther. Always brang a friend home after every school day. Maybe you were one of dem!”

“… Naw, can’t say I know him.” The conversation dies there, not with no thanks to Sullivan’s lack of talkativeness. Boys these days can be so sweet, but so moody too. “Sun’s breaking da treeline. We’d better pack up and go if we want ta reach da scout point and be back by tonight.” It can be a little frustrating to hold a good conversation with someone when all his responses are silence and logistics.

I know! I’ll think of a good groundbreaker, a good conversation starter, and then maybe Sullivan will warm up to me and we won’t need to march for an entire day in awkward silence!

>>623179
Ask him how much a penguin weighs?

Have you asked him about his family? Why he signed up? If he has any hobbies?

What's your role here anyway? I don't see a sword on you so... medic?

Where exactly are you two going?

>>623179
Give him a motherly hug.
Also, if you can give me an approximation of the colors on battlemom I'll have a favicon up pretty quick. This quest looks neat so far, so I'll probably be watching it pretty closely.

Ask him if he as a girl back home, wiggle eyebrow profusely.

Suggestion 2015/02/04(Wed)07:34 No. 623490 ID: 40c185
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> Have you asked him about his family?

“Les’ do a gear check. You gawt your sword?” Sullivan asks. He didn’t even so much as glance my way! I think he’s nervous. Maybe if I get him talking about himself…

“Right here, dear. Say, why don’t you tell me about your family?”

“Well, I gawt my Ma and Da. Make sure is’ secure when is’ on your belt. Gawt your toolkit?”

“But what’re deir names, sweetie? I might be friends wit’ dem. And I gawt it right here,” I say as I drop my whetstone and bowstring oil into a satchel which I toss into the backpack.

“I doubt. Never heard Ma ’n Da talk about a Ms. Miriam—” “Miri!” “R-right, Miri. Gawt your emergency rations?” I don’t think he wants to talk about his parents…

“I gawt dem. You know how much a penguin weighs?” I try to surprise him with a silly question, figuring I can get Sullivan to crack a smile, at least. He stops rifling through his bag to cock an eye at me. It’s a start!

“Penguin? Whas’ a penguin?” Is that curiosity I spot in his eye?

“Why, dear, is’ a special kind of bird that’s gawt no feathers and can’t fly! A whole bunch of dem showed up at da Burrow one day maybe twenty years ago. You might not’ve even been born yet!” I tell him a little about those visitors, just enough to make him curious. That story’s never failed to catch the attention of the kids who were too young to remember when the Burrow was visited by the mysterious, ‘penguins.’

“Right. I scrubbed out da cooking before you woke and packed half it in my bag. You take da rest.” Alright, now that story’s failed once. But I think it might have put him off guard. Time to go in for the fatal strike!

> Why he signed up?

“Is dat what you expected when you signed up for da Lookouts?” I ask as I shove a pan into my pack. “Dish washing duty? Didn’t bot’er me wit’ all da experience I gawt, but boys like you are usually thinking about da action when dey join!” I give Sullivan a smile which he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Naw, but das’ just how it is. Da marching, da washing, da camping. Is’ all part of serving. Gawt your bow? Is it strung good?” I’m really trying not to, but I’m starting to get a little frustrated by Sullivan’s dismissiveness. Little Uther was never this bad even when he was a teenager!

> If he has any hobbies?

“Yup, gawt it!” I’ll try one more topic on him… “Well, washing and marching can’t be what you do for fun, sweetie.”

“It ain’t. You gawt your quiver? Make sure is’ secure on your belt.”

“What do you do for fun, sweetie? You gawt hobbies, right?”

“Naw, I gawt hobbies. But dey wouldn’t interest you. Don’t you gawt your quiver?” This is getting ridiculous! He’s as talkative as a rock!

“I gawt my quiver, dear. With arrows, so you don’t gawt ta ask if I gawt each one,” I try to poke a little fun at Sullivan for being so serious, but it’s half-hearted and I think he didn’t hear the sarcasm because he just nods his head.

“Okay. Put on your equipment on, we’re just about ready ta go.” Sullivan silently paces around our little campsite, making sure we didn’t forget any of our supplies, and it looks like my efforts to get him talking were useless!

It’s not like the sky is caving in on us, but I’d really like to hold a conversation! Quiet is swell for bedtime, but we just woke up! If there’s one thing that frustrates me, it’s dead air.

“Naw, I don’t see not’ing missing,” Sullivan’s finishing his little sweep of the camp and is about to get his backpack on. No! I won’t give up! I’ll get him talking somehow!

> Ask him if he as a girl back home, wiggle eyebrow profusely.

No, asking questions hasn’t worked, he just gives vague, dead-end answers. I need to do something more. I need to do something that he can’t ignore! But what would break his shell?

Suggestion 2015/02/04(Wed)07:34 No. 623491 ID: 40c185
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> Give him a motherly hug.

Of course! Hugs make everything better! Whenever little Uther came home in a mood, a hug never failed to cheer him up, no matter how old he got. I’ll bet it’ll work just as well with Sullivan.

“So if da sun’s rising dat way… den dis’ da way ta Land’s End. If we can—“ Sullivan turns around to look at something, but all he finds are my waiting arms!

“Wha—! M-Ms. Miriam! Excuse me, w-what are you doing?” He tries to squirm out of my grasp, but the Lookouts don’t give you a weapon if you don’t got the muscle to hold it!

“I’m hugging you, dear.”

“W-why is dat, Ms. Miriam?”

“I guess is’ just my first instinct, when I see a boy all sulky, is ta give him a big squeeze!”

“Sulky? N-naw, I ain’t sulky, Ms. Miriam…” Ah ha! That’s the voice of a boy who knows I got it right but doesn’t want to admit it! I’ve only heard it enough times from my own children.

“Den you shouldn’t mind a little hug, dear?”

“Whatever! I-I’ll do anyt’ing if you let go, please?”

Anything? Hmm…

Time to go. You're burning daylight, here.

Tell him to smile a bit then.

Yea tell him to smile a bit more.
Also what's our situation? Do we have anyone/thing waiting for us back home? Do we wish to accomplish anything while we're out here? Any short or long term goals?

Suggestion 2015/02/10(Tue)09:50 No. 624458 ID: 40c185
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“Give me a smile den, dear!”

… It’s a start, I guess.

“Dat wasn’t so hard! Don’t you feel better?” Sullivan gives me a hesitant nod. Aww! They’re so much cuter like this than when they’re brooding!

Suggestion 2015/02/10(Tue)09:51 No. 624459 ID: 40c185
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“So as promised, you’re free ta go!” I let him go and go back over to my equipment and start gearing up, “Right! Daylight’s burning! Get your gear on and les’ go!”

Constantly reviewing your responsibilities is something they try to train in every Lookout, because patrols can keep you on the surface for so long.

We go over the details of our assignment as we begin the march. We’re on our way to Land’s End harbor. It normally looks like a boring cliff overlooking the northern sea, but there’s actually a hidden path that leads to a pretty little cove which the Burrow keeps a few fishing boats at. The end of winter means we can send fishermen on the daylong trek to and back again, and me and Sullivan are this year’s patrol to check on the boats and scout for squatters or scavengers who might be skulking around there. When all that’s done, we’ll turn right around and be back at the Burrow by sundown.

Meanwhile, we need to remember the Lookouts’ motto: ‘Look and Listen!’ The northern woods are so pretty, but so dangerous. Hostile tribes live around here, raptors fly around here, and I even hear about a wandering horde being sighted every few years! We live underground for a reason!

“Right,” Sullivan says, “I don’t t’ink we ain’t forgot not’ing. Now we look and listen.”

I stretch my aching back. We’ve barely started the march, but all this stuff is heavy!

“Ooh, I can’t wait to get back home to see little Uther. He looked ready ta cry when he was saying goodbye! What about you, dear, you gawt someone waiting for you?” I try to start up a new conversation, because it was getting dangerously quiet for my like.

“Naw, I gawt my ma and da. Ma was sure sad, and Da said he wasn’t worried, but I knew ot’erwise. He was trying his best nawt ta cry, and he t’ought he was hiding it, but I knew. I could tell,” Sullivan replies. He’s smiling, and he’s sharing about himself without me having push him. He’s so much more pleasant now!

“Ms. Miriam… could you not tell my da I told you that?”

“Secret’s buried and I threw away the map!” Aww, he’s even sharing a little secret with me!

A harsh bark cleaves the air, making both me and Sullivan freeze in alert.

“What was dat?” Sullivan whispers.

“Don’t know, dear,” is all I can say. My eyes shoot in every direction, but I can’t see anything moving.

The bark sounds again. It could be anything making that sound. Did a raptor see us? Is a barbarian signaling his tribesmen? Some other danger?

“We gawt ta do somet’ing,” Sullivan says.

Get off the path and take cover behind some trees.

Suggestion 2015/03/14(Sat)20:02 No. 629166 ID: 8df9f7
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I scurry for cover in the trees and Sullivan is right behind me. We find a nice little bush to huddle in, but we can’t hide so great when he’s acting all jittery!

“We hidden enough in dis spawt? What if dey’ve already saw us? What if…” Sullivan asks as he twists his head this way and that. It’s funny because if they don’t see us, they’ll hear us, with how Sullivan’s rustling and whispering so loud.

“Hush now, dear. Just look and listen.” I’ve been the flustered recruit plenty of times myself, so I guess it’s time for me to be the wise veteran. Seeing me calm relaxes Sullivan enough that we can get back to listening.

“HAW! HAW HAW!”

“Dere it is again!”

“Yes, I heard, dear.”

It sure is some awful squawking, and it’s getting closer, but I can’t see what it’s coming from. I’m almost ready to panic myself when Sullivan nudges me and nods back toward the path we were on a minute before.

“A-HAW HAW HAW! Yer yankin’ mae tail! There’s aren’t a way yer tellin’ mae a fact!”

As it turns out, it wasn’t any raptor call at all, but the very harsh laugh of a rather stout rat. He comes out onto the path from the woods opposite us with two friends, a smaller male and a female. The smaller male has a crudely strung bow while the stout one has a stone club, and the female has a sword that’s much nicer than her friends’ weapons. They’ve all got bags full of stuff, but I can’t tell what’s in them.

“Well, I sure aren’t jokin’ ya! And there’s are more to tell! So after Shellsy’s picked her flowers, shae finds Bugsy all by hisself, and tells his that hae’s makes her heart all flutterin’!”

“This Shellsy? Shellsy walkin’ with wae now? Openin’ up like a clam in love! HAW HAW! To bae a bird on a branch to haer that!”

“Or the rat who’s were pissin’ in the bushes!”

The male rats join each other in howling laughter as the female trots behind them. She’s been silent the whole time, but finally she speaks up.

“While wae’re tellin’ about pissin’, wait haere.” The female rat drops her sword and bag to the dirt and leaves her friends on the path to look around for a private enough spot.

Ok, from wandering around with mostly crude weapons and full bags these guys look like scavengers or bandits. Does that make it your job then to do something about them? If not, try and avoid them unless she runs into you. If so, I suppose it is up to your job description whether to question, drive off, or fight off suspected scavengers. (If you think it is likely to end in violence, wait a bit more for that one rat to get further from her sword.)

>>629345
pretty much this. If/when you come out of cover have an arrow nocked in each of your bows with you pointing at the bow wielding guy and Sullivan at the bigger guy. If the guy makes to draw an arrow shoot him.(preferably in the arm if you can.) State that you will do so.

Suggestion 2015/10/04(Sun)14:15 No. 674826 ID: 0c4b65
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As she comes closer, it gets obvious that we won’t leave this bush without a standoff. Lookouts are usually supposed to avoid direct contact with the surface races—everyone in the Burrow’s supposed to, really—but the Lookouts have a plan for just this sort of occasion. They drilled it into us so good Sullivan’s got a pawful of arrows ready before I have to say anything.

“On my mark,” I whisper with my own awful of arrows, “You gawt da big one. I watch da archer.” Sullivan nods quick and his whole body tenses.

I return to focus on the approaching rat. She looks me in the eye through the bush. I spring out of it from one side, Sullivan from the other, bows drawn.

“Don’t move!” I shout. “Or we shoot!”

The rats jump and clutch their weapons like blankies—except the female, who grabs her pants where her sword would’ve hung from—but their grips slacken when they recognize the sharp arrowheads pointed straight at them.

“Paws off!” Sullivan shouts, jerking his bow at their weapons. After a moment they obey and rest their paws at their sides, staring at him like he caught them doing something naughty.

>>674826
"why are you here? and who are you?"

Suggestion 2015/11/07(Sat)12:03 No. 682152 ID: 0c4b65
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“Wae’s jest a few honest rats who’s makin’ they’s ways in this world!” the stout rat shouts.

“Wae’s jest out haere pickin’ at berries far wae's families.” the female says. The stout one offers his bag, and a couple of berries spill out. “Wae have mouths to faed!”

“Wae’s were trackin’ one o’ you Cavers!” the short rat spits out, shivering all over. His friends glare hard at him, but he continues. “So’s wae’s could get into Hordeshaper Bigboss’s army!”

“Shuddup, yew stupid dungdrop!” the stout rat snarls at him.

“A horde? So dere is a horde brewing up here!” Sullivan says.

“But whas’ dat about dis ot’er Caver?” I ask. It’s worrying that there would be someone else from the Burrow for the rats to track when Sullivan and I are the only ones supposed to be out here…

The rat drops to his paws and knees. “Wae's sawn him, that are the truth!”

“Oh, you don’ need ta be rolling in da mud, dear…” I start, when I realize he’s scribbling in the dirt.

“Hae were saemin’ like this right haere, the Caver were!”

I shiver and half wish to march right back to the Burrow, and half to shake the rat until he takes me to this caver right now.

“Hay, dat looks like is’ s’posed ta be Uther Miriam, da Underking.” Sullivan says. “Saved da Burrow twenty years ago, den vanished.”

Sullivan turns to me. “Weren’t he your…?”

I’m not sure whether I want to believe it, but Sullivan is right. It’s the father of my children.

>>682152
Was his leaving due to/the cause of some bad blood?

Ask the rat which way Uther went, then relieve them of their weapons.(have them drop them then walk off a bit) Cause the short rat was honest, leave him with his knife/a knife for protection.(maybe from the other two depending on how they treat him after you leave) Not sure whether to check their bags for stolen stuff or just leave it alone.