Mrawlf the Dweller of the Wilds

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Role

Chapter 2

Mrawlf had been wondering if his courage was enough. But now he has begun to
think that running into fights overmatched in number and getting stomped by
several orcs at one time is not being courageous or brave either How can
Mrawlf show that he is courageous without being detrimental to the cause of
good over evil?

Since he is a fairly simple, if not crude felar, Mrawlf has decided quite
practically, that he must put more of the evil folk into the ground than puts
him there. This would be a much better plan.

In time, he may even decide to impart this bit of wisdom to others.. but first
he must try and learn it for himself.

Role

Chapter 1

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Scene:
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It's an early dawn with some rare snow in the marshlands,yet somehow a morning
sun peaks out over it all, exposing eveything into fresh sunlight. Young
Mrawlf hops over a fence, then walks over a rather large bug, and passes a
familar tree to his right...

...In one instant, the peaceful light turns to blinding pain for Mrawlf as he
is hit sqaure in the face by what felt like either a very solid piece of ice,
or a very cold rock. Exploding on impact, some snowy bits sticking in his
fur. Mrawlf recoils from the blow. Some glasses which he had for some reason
been wearing were knocked into the snow and smashed. The wizard would not be
happy. (But that's another story.)

---At this point, Mrawlf sniffs and can smell them just before he could hear
them. "Ah no.. it was the Orcs. Again", he thought. . Well, this time it is
just one Orc at least. And his slaphappy little Goblin Pal. ---

"Hey yuh furry.!How ya like da snowball sandwhich! BOAT!" (Goblin Pal starts
cheering but then stops and scratches his head at that last exclamation,
clearly consfused.)

"Listen kitten! When Orc tell ya to come you come! Oh no kitten gonna meow
mewo ta mommy!!! Meeeeeooooooowww! BOAT!"

---At this moment, deep in the recesses of Mrawlf's brain, a tiny red-hot
little flame began to grow.---

Within seconds-- nay! Millieconds, the smaller Felar was on top of the Orc,
slashing and clawing at the much larger Orc's face and chest, blood spraying
over on Goblin Pal like ketchup, and making a general mess of the situation
not to mention the surrounding snow...

---Right now something had happened, as if a magical wand exploded into
fragments inside his head, and Mrawlf had gone outta his skull (figuratively
speaking of course).---

...As Mrawlf finishes up tearing the last piece of sinew off the Orc's jaw and
tosses it aside, Goblin Pal scurries over to snatch it up. Not hesitating,
Mrawlf reaches out and easily smacks Goblin Pal into the nearby marsh like so
much marshweed.

"I'm telling the Taskmaster!!!", cackles the Goblin Pal as he scurries off
back into the shadows...

--- Now, speaking almost in tongues, all sorts of obscenities were pouring out
of Mrawlf's mouth as he screamed... (a frightening warcry of sorts.)---

... Luckily, the Felar Chief had walked up just in time.: "C'mon, we going
home. C'mon. "

But Mrawlf wasn't going home that day. Or perhaps any day. He had found his
inner voice (some might even say he discovered courage) and was going to
follow it, wherever it leads...

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