Post by Amos Diggory on Jan 20, 2008 0:40:08 GMT -5
Yes, it IS a medieval story. Yes, it IS ridiculous. No, I'm not crazy. =D I thought this would be kinda fun since I'm obsessed with English History and all. You may notice it sounds kind of Robin Hood-ish, and that's because I'm obsessed with Robin Hood too. 
Anyway.
England in 1170 is a place of turmoil. The clashing of classes and religious interests is slowly weakening the ties between loyal subjects, and civil unrest is beginning to show its ugly head. The land is flourishing under the reign of a steady, sensible king, but the people are not. In focusing on dividing his estates between his many devoted subjects and heirs, King Henry Plantagenet the Second has failed to notice that his nobles are oppressing the serfs and peasants of England. Life is terrible for lower class citizens, and despite the fact that trial by jury has been established for four years now to try and give some equality to the common people, wealth-based bias is still rife all across the Angevin Empire. Rather than face starvation and death at the hands of their masters, many servants flee to the forests and turn to robbery to save themselves. Several outlaw bands have begun cropping up all over the place, and one of these bands in particular has quickly gained notoriety in the parts around East London and north of the River Thames.
They are known as the Dead Rabbits by both the common folk of the area and by the nobles, and it is a very fitting nickname, seeing as the price on their heads is high and justice system or no, everyone knows that if they are apprehended they¡¯ll be sentenced to death nearly immediately. They call Waltham Forest their home and it¡¯s a well-known fact that if you are carrying goods and you want to make it to your destination intact, going through the forest was not the way to do it. Despite several close encounters with the law, the outlaws pride themselves on the fact that there hasn¡¯t been a single death within their ranks since they first started pillaging and stealing.
Although the threat of rebellion and even civil war is quickly becoming very real, the Rabbits are unconcerned. Matters of the real world don¡¯t mean anything to outlaws, and in their leafy stronghold, they believe they are safe. Time, however, proves all people wrong.
Jude Howard was running faster than he¡¯d ever had to before in his life, which was understandable, seeing as there were about four horsemen bearing down upon him with an assortment of spears and swords. The fact didn¡¯t seem to perturb the young man much, however, seeing as there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that could only come from a lifetime spent wrong-doing. He looked back over his shoulder briefly and jeered, "Ye can't catch me!" in an almost sing-song voice, laughing raucously. His confident manner came to an abrupt halt when he tripped over a tree root and landed face flat on the ground, replaced by some very colorful language. Jude got up, gingerly rubbing his knee, before the situation at hand returned to his thoughts and he began swearing again.
"Well, what 'ave we got 'ere?" an absurdly cocky and sarcastic voice sounded somewhere to his right. With a scowl of recognition, Jude opened eyes that he hadn¡¯t realized were closed, and turned to come face to face with none other than Matt Brookes.
"You know what we've got 'ere," Jude responded, his voice becoming sullen as he sensed his impending rescue. "Take yer time about it, Matty-boy, but you and I both know why you're paying me this completely expected visit. Jus' get on with it."
Matt feigned a hurt expression and made a tsk-tsk sound in the back of his throat, shaking his head at Jude in a disappointed way, before looking at the approaching horsemen almost disinterestedly and finally giving a resigned sigh, "Alright, Jude, me boy, I think yeh rescue's in order righ' about now."
The boy then proceeded to step out directly into the path of the horsemen and managed to, in one fluid movement, string his bow, nock a deliberately blunt arrow and then shoot it without bothering to aim.
"Show off," Jude muttered under his breath as he watched the arrow zoom, straight and true, to strike the leading horseman on the helmet, hitting him square between the eyes and on the nose-guard. He looked on with a raised eyebrow as the rider toppled off of his horse and the rest of the contingent scattered, before turning back to Matt with a disgusted expression. "Tha', Jude, is how yeh impress a lady," Matt concluded, deftly unstringing his bow and sliding it back into its oiled buckskin tube. He dusted his hands off together in a very final way, and then nodded at Jude and half-ordered, "C'mon, let's get back to the others."
Lan Dawkins looked up as Matt and Jude entered the clearing which they'd made their camp, a frown on his face. He was, if anything, the voice of reason within their little band, and the sight of the two tussling Rabbits made him slightly concerned that the men weren't taking life seriously enough. Lan was by no means opposed to having fun, but they were outlaws with prices on their heads, not noblemen who were free to do as they pleased, and they'd made a pact amongst themselves to return to camp by sundown. The sun had set roughly an hour ago, and in that time Lan had been worrying about where they could be and whether or not he should have gone out in search of them. He was immeasurably relieved to see them both back in one piece, but a little angry all the same. "Yeh're late," he stated simply in his peasant's brogue, giving them a critical once over and taking in the leaves that were scattered over Jude's jerkin and caught in his hair, as well as the broad grin that Matt was displaying.
"Ligh'en up, Lan-me-man!" Matt exclaimed in a merry sounding voice, casting a sly sidelong glance at Jude, who was looking a little sheepish and guilty about being so late. "Jude here nearly got impaled, as usual, bu' don't you worry, I saved 'im." There was a hint of pride in Matt¡¯s voice as he gently placed his bow on the leaf-littered ground and went over to sit by the fire.
"Sorry, Lan," Jude muttered, glancing down at his feet and managing to feel abashed, despite the fact that they were the same age.
"S'alrigh'," Lan relented, "I'm jus' glad you fellows are fine, yeah?" His manner became friendly once more instead of stern, because he found it quite impossible to stay angry at the mischievous pair for very long. "Liesl, the boys are back!" he called out, smiling.
Lan's twin, Liesl, emerged from the crude branch-constructed shelter which she had insisted upon having. "It's abou' time, Matt," she told the bowman with a frown similar to the one Lan had been wearing, before the expression gave way to a broad grin when she saw Jude. She laughed, commenting, "Judey! You look ridiculous!" Shaking her head, she went to the boy and brushed the leaves off his jerkin, before proceeding to pull the remaining leaves out of Jude's hair while Matt watched on with an incredulous expression and Lan turned to stoke the fire with a satisfied smirk on his face. Jude, if anything, managed to look even more abashed than he'd appeared while Lan had been chastising them, and once Liesl had drawn back and he was free of leaves, he held up the sack that contained the spoils of a day spent thieving.
"Two rabbits," he began an inventory in a voice that was a little rushed, "A few coins pocketed from a trader while 'e wasn't lookin', an' a loaf of fresh bread."
Matt raised his eyebrows with mild surprise from where he'd been sitting at the fire. Fresh bread was hard to come by, and very expensive. "Perhaps savin' ye was worth it after all, Jude," he commented with a wry little smirk.
"Not two hours after sundown and yeh're already makin' wisecracks," Jude retorted with a roll of his eyes. They were all very used to Matt's antics by now.
"Speaking of the time," Lan began, cutting off what would have become a very long and tedious exchange of witty repartee, "Shall we cook up one of those rabbits you bagged and have somethin' to eat? Worryin' about you lot has made me starving."
"Aww, Lan, you were worried 'bout us?" Matt asked in a voice that was mockingly touched, "That's so swee' of yeh!"
He ducked the rock that the other boy threw at him, laughing, but did as Lan had said and went over to Jude, took the bag from him and pulled out one of the rabbits.
"Ergh, yeh could've at least skinned the thing first, Judey," Liesl protested, wrinkling her nose at the sight of the limp creature.
"Didn' have enough time, wha' with the horsemen wantin' to kill me and all. Sorry I couldn' cater for yeh're domestic needs," Jude responded in a dry voice which was accompanied with a wink.
The girl poked her tongue out almost childishly at him and took the rabbit from where it was hanging forgotten in one of Matt's hands. "I guess I have to do everythin' myself," she sighed and went to work with her hunting knife.
"Ye know," Matt said in an almost, but not quite off-hand tone, "There's a shootin' contest going on next week in Hackney. Bag o' gold coins for the win-" He was interrupted by the sight of Lan shaking his head.
"Matty-boy," Lan began, using the nickname that they¡¯d all decided to adopt a long time ago, "It's simply too risky. Don' get me wrong, the gold would be useful an' all, but...no' if it means seein' one of us get killed."
"We won' get killed!" Matt exclaimed, boyish exuberance strong in his inflection. "I can wear a disguise, 'n Jude...well...he can grow a beard or somethin'." He looked to Liesl with a pleading expression on his face, begging her silently on his behalf.
Liesl thought about it for a while, frowning. Eventually, she said, shaking her head, "I'm 'fraid I can't agree."
"Wha'!?" Matt asked disbelievingly. Jude also looked quite startled. Normally Liesl was the first to agree where their little schemes were involved.
"Go to the shootin' contest an' get yourself killed for all I care," Liesl explained, a sly grin now on her face, "But I simply won't let Jude grow a beard."
Unable to keep from joining the others in laughing at this absurd statement, Lan finally sighed defeatedly, "I¡¯ll think abou' it."
Anyway.Prologue - 1170
England in 1170 is a place of turmoil. The clashing of classes and religious interests is slowly weakening the ties between loyal subjects, and civil unrest is beginning to show its ugly head. The land is flourishing under the reign of a steady, sensible king, but the people are not. In focusing on dividing his estates between his many devoted subjects and heirs, King Henry Plantagenet the Second has failed to notice that his nobles are oppressing the serfs and peasants of England. Life is terrible for lower class citizens, and despite the fact that trial by jury has been established for four years now to try and give some equality to the common people, wealth-based bias is still rife all across the Angevin Empire. Rather than face starvation and death at the hands of their masters, many servants flee to the forests and turn to robbery to save themselves. Several outlaw bands have begun cropping up all over the place, and one of these bands in particular has quickly gained notoriety in the parts around East London and north of the River Thames.
They are known as the Dead Rabbits by both the common folk of the area and by the nobles, and it is a very fitting nickname, seeing as the price on their heads is high and justice system or no, everyone knows that if they are apprehended they¡¯ll be sentenced to death nearly immediately. They call Waltham Forest their home and it¡¯s a well-known fact that if you are carrying goods and you want to make it to your destination intact, going through the forest was not the way to do it. Despite several close encounters with the law, the outlaws pride themselves on the fact that there hasn¡¯t been a single death within their ranks since they first started pillaging and stealing.
Although the threat of rebellion and even civil war is quickly becoming very real, the Rabbits are unconcerned. Matters of the real world don¡¯t mean anything to outlaws, and in their leafy stronghold, they believe they are safe. Time, however, proves all people wrong.
Chapter One
There¡¯s a Certain Time for Everything, Me Lads
There¡¯s a Certain Time for Everything, Me Lads
Jude Howard was running faster than he¡¯d ever had to before in his life, which was understandable, seeing as there were about four horsemen bearing down upon him with an assortment of spears and swords. The fact didn¡¯t seem to perturb the young man much, however, seeing as there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that could only come from a lifetime spent wrong-doing. He looked back over his shoulder briefly and jeered, "Ye can't catch me!" in an almost sing-song voice, laughing raucously. His confident manner came to an abrupt halt when he tripped over a tree root and landed face flat on the ground, replaced by some very colorful language. Jude got up, gingerly rubbing his knee, before the situation at hand returned to his thoughts and he began swearing again.
"Well, what 'ave we got 'ere?" an absurdly cocky and sarcastic voice sounded somewhere to his right. With a scowl of recognition, Jude opened eyes that he hadn¡¯t realized were closed, and turned to come face to face with none other than Matt Brookes.
"You know what we've got 'ere," Jude responded, his voice becoming sullen as he sensed his impending rescue. "Take yer time about it, Matty-boy, but you and I both know why you're paying me this completely expected visit. Jus' get on with it."
Matt feigned a hurt expression and made a tsk-tsk sound in the back of his throat, shaking his head at Jude in a disappointed way, before looking at the approaching horsemen almost disinterestedly and finally giving a resigned sigh, "Alright, Jude, me boy, I think yeh rescue's in order righ' about now."
The boy then proceeded to step out directly into the path of the horsemen and managed to, in one fluid movement, string his bow, nock a deliberately blunt arrow and then shoot it without bothering to aim.
"Show off," Jude muttered under his breath as he watched the arrow zoom, straight and true, to strike the leading horseman on the helmet, hitting him square between the eyes and on the nose-guard. He looked on with a raised eyebrow as the rider toppled off of his horse and the rest of the contingent scattered, before turning back to Matt with a disgusted expression. "Tha', Jude, is how yeh impress a lady," Matt concluded, deftly unstringing his bow and sliding it back into its oiled buckskin tube. He dusted his hands off together in a very final way, and then nodded at Jude and half-ordered, "C'mon, let's get back to the others."
Lan Dawkins looked up as Matt and Jude entered the clearing which they'd made their camp, a frown on his face. He was, if anything, the voice of reason within their little band, and the sight of the two tussling Rabbits made him slightly concerned that the men weren't taking life seriously enough. Lan was by no means opposed to having fun, but they were outlaws with prices on their heads, not noblemen who were free to do as they pleased, and they'd made a pact amongst themselves to return to camp by sundown. The sun had set roughly an hour ago, and in that time Lan had been worrying about where they could be and whether or not he should have gone out in search of them. He was immeasurably relieved to see them both back in one piece, but a little angry all the same. "Yeh're late," he stated simply in his peasant's brogue, giving them a critical once over and taking in the leaves that were scattered over Jude's jerkin and caught in his hair, as well as the broad grin that Matt was displaying.
"Ligh'en up, Lan-me-man!" Matt exclaimed in a merry sounding voice, casting a sly sidelong glance at Jude, who was looking a little sheepish and guilty about being so late. "Jude here nearly got impaled, as usual, bu' don't you worry, I saved 'im." There was a hint of pride in Matt¡¯s voice as he gently placed his bow on the leaf-littered ground and went over to sit by the fire.
"Sorry, Lan," Jude muttered, glancing down at his feet and managing to feel abashed, despite the fact that they were the same age.
"S'alrigh'," Lan relented, "I'm jus' glad you fellows are fine, yeah?" His manner became friendly once more instead of stern, because he found it quite impossible to stay angry at the mischievous pair for very long. "Liesl, the boys are back!" he called out, smiling.
Lan's twin, Liesl, emerged from the crude branch-constructed shelter which she had insisted upon having. "It's abou' time, Matt," she told the bowman with a frown similar to the one Lan had been wearing, before the expression gave way to a broad grin when she saw Jude. She laughed, commenting, "Judey! You look ridiculous!" Shaking her head, she went to the boy and brushed the leaves off his jerkin, before proceeding to pull the remaining leaves out of Jude's hair while Matt watched on with an incredulous expression and Lan turned to stoke the fire with a satisfied smirk on his face. Jude, if anything, managed to look even more abashed than he'd appeared while Lan had been chastising them, and once Liesl had drawn back and he was free of leaves, he held up the sack that contained the spoils of a day spent thieving.
"Two rabbits," he began an inventory in a voice that was a little rushed, "A few coins pocketed from a trader while 'e wasn't lookin', an' a loaf of fresh bread."
Matt raised his eyebrows with mild surprise from where he'd been sitting at the fire. Fresh bread was hard to come by, and very expensive. "Perhaps savin' ye was worth it after all, Jude," he commented with a wry little smirk.
"Not two hours after sundown and yeh're already makin' wisecracks," Jude retorted with a roll of his eyes. They were all very used to Matt's antics by now.
"Speaking of the time," Lan began, cutting off what would have become a very long and tedious exchange of witty repartee, "Shall we cook up one of those rabbits you bagged and have somethin' to eat? Worryin' about you lot has made me starving."
"Aww, Lan, you were worried 'bout us?" Matt asked in a voice that was mockingly touched, "That's so swee' of yeh!"
He ducked the rock that the other boy threw at him, laughing, but did as Lan had said and went over to Jude, took the bag from him and pulled out one of the rabbits.
"Ergh, yeh could've at least skinned the thing first, Judey," Liesl protested, wrinkling her nose at the sight of the limp creature.
"Didn' have enough time, wha' with the horsemen wantin' to kill me and all. Sorry I couldn' cater for yeh're domestic needs," Jude responded in a dry voice which was accompanied with a wink.
The girl poked her tongue out almost childishly at him and took the rabbit from where it was hanging forgotten in one of Matt's hands. "I guess I have to do everythin' myself," she sighed and went to work with her hunting knife.
"Ye know," Matt said in an almost, but not quite off-hand tone, "There's a shootin' contest going on next week in Hackney. Bag o' gold coins for the win-" He was interrupted by the sight of Lan shaking his head.
"Matty-boy," Lan began, using the nickname that they¡¯d all decided to adopt a long time ago, "It's simply too risky. Don' get me wrong, the gold would be useful an' all, but...no' if it means seein' one of us get killed."
"We won' get killed!" Matt exclaimed, boyish exuberance strong in his inflection. "I can wear a disguise, 'n Jude...well...he can grow a beard or somethin'." He looked to Liesl with a pleading expression on his face, begging her silently on his behalf.
Liesl thought about it for a while, frowning. Eventually, she said, shaking her head, "I'm 'fraid I can't agree."
"Wha'!?" Matt asked disbelievingly. Jude also looked quite startled. Normally Liesl was the first to agree where their little schemes were involved.
"Go to the shootin' contest an' get yourself killed for all I care," Liesl explained, a sly grin now on her face, "But I simply won't let Jude grow a beard."
Unable to keep from joining the others in laughing at this absurd statement, Lan finally sighed defeatedly, "I¡¯ll think abou' it."
