Post by Angel on Jun 13, 2020 6:31:22 GMT
Set a day or two before the Suns Raid on Paris. Open to Buster, although that could be altered if anyone wishes.
The little Pomeranian mix raised her nose into the air and took several quick sniffs. Morning had arrived to Paris, and the city would began to awake. Angel's triangular ears pitched forward as she picked up the distant tolling of church bells. Her nose had told her that the dawn catch was arriving from the river, and close by a baker's oven simmered as scents of fresh bread filled the dog's nostrils. She tilted her head, making one floppy ear stand up at an odd angle.
“Okay...just another stray. You can do this,” She whispered to herself.
Angel plodded down the shadow clad alleyway. On each side stone walls rose and the space between them was so narrow that she felt she could probably reach out and place a for and hind paw on each at the same time. The walls were dirty, and if it wasn't for the handful of barrels and creates that stood in neat piles awaiting delivery, she would have assumed it was abandoned. Perfect for slipping into the city and traveling around the streets. She felt oddly nude without her collar and tags, having come accustomed to their presence and their soft rattle. Her disguise was her own body. Nothing more then a streetdog, no doubt one of many that wandered a city such as Paris.
As a scout, her job was to travel ahead and determine the lay of the land. Map out routes, and cast a net of knowledge as to what lay before the army. She was Mufasa's eyes and ears before his claws would strike. Poking her head out from between the two buildings, she glanced up and down the street before her. Checking for wagons, horses, and other vehicles that posed a danger to a streetdog. Her sky blue eyes blinked and her bushy tail fluttered as she saw that the street ran alongside the great brick lined walls and ramparts that held the river. Her paws moved briskly as she seemingly pranced across the street. Nimbly hopping up onto the sidewalk, and then the stone capped wall that protected the sidewalk from the fall down to the waters below. A quick trot down the wall, and she hopped down as she reached the next ally. Before anyone could question or really note the dog's presence, she was across the cobblestone street and back into the shadows between buildings.
Silently, she took note of the river and the route she had taken to reach it. While it had been subtle enough to make a silent entrance, it was still a long and circuitous route. She would have to locate a bridge next, and then find a more direct route out of the city. Both to return as quick as she could to report, and to provide a hasty escape route for the raiders should it be required.
The scent of fresh bread wafted into the dog's face like the slap of a hand. Whipping her head side to side, Angel quickly located it's source. With a willy smirk, she found that the baker had set up a wooden cart just outside the bakery. He had just gone back inside after putting a fresh load of Fougasse, and she could hear the clatter of pans as he prepared the next load. Well...her cover was that of a streetdog. Angel had already exercised the rest of her streetdog skills on this scout. the age old skill of nicking food, why not add the age old task of nicking breakfast to the list.
The blonde canine slipped between the cart and the storefront. She bounced up onto her hind legs, and craned her chin to peek over the edge. Right before her nose was the glowing warmth of a freshly baked loaf. Angel quickly wrapped her teeth around it, and plucked it off the cart. Her ears tipping forward as the door to the bakery clattered open. When the cart's owned swung around the threshold, a large basket of Ficelle in his arms, he would find only the dust left in Angel's trail...and perhaps the brief sight of a bushy blonde tail vanishing down alongside the river if he was truly cognizant to the theft.
Safe in the shadow of the great stone walls that lined the riverbank, Angel lay down, spindle legged, and cradled the bun between her fore-paws on the grass and sand covered riverside. Feeling safe for the moment, she started to nibble at her breakfast. As she ate, she worked to create a mental map of her route. She had to locate the bridge before Notre Dame. However that wouldn't be too hard now that she was alongside the river. Looking around, it seemed as if this landing was used frequently. She wouldn't have known it at the time, but Angel was parked alongside the very route that gypsies had once used to travel in the cover of darkness into and out of the city.
Eyes narrowed, she took another bite before going stock still. Her ears perking strait as she heard someone approach. Too heavy to be a rat, yet too light to be a human. Her heart pumped and she could feel adrenaline start to flow. Her paws twitched, as if ready to bolt. Swallowing her mouthful, Angel raised her head.
“I wouldn't consider slipping up behind a eating dog very wise,” Her voice was sturdy, with just the hint of a threat. Her curly tail quivered. “Why don't you come around and we can see one another?”
“Okay...just another stray. You can do this,” She whispered to herself.
Angel plodded down the shadow clad alleyway. On each side stone walls rose and the space between them was so narrow that she felt she could probably reach out and place a for and hind paw on each at the same time. The walls were dirty, and if it wasn't for the handful of barrels and creates that stood in neat piles awaiting delivery, she would have assumed it was abandoned. Perfect for slipping into the city and traveling around the streets. She felt oddly nude without her collar and tags, having come accustomed to their presence and their soft rattle. Her disguise was her own body. Nothing more then a streetdog, no doubt one of many that wandered a city such as Paris.
As a scout, her job was to travel ahead and determine the lay of the land. Map out routes, and cast a net of knowledge as to what lay before the army. She was Mufasa's eyes and ears before his claws would strike. Poking her head out from between the two buildings, she glanced up and down the street before her. Checking for wagons, horses, and other vehicles that posed a danger to a streetdog. Her sky blue eyes blinked and her bushy tail fluttered as she saw that the street ran alongside the great brick lined walls and ramparts that held the river. Her paws moved briskly as she seemingly pranced across the street. Nimbly hopping up onto the sidewalk, and then the stone capped wall that protected the sidewalk from the fall down to the waters below. A quick trot down the wall, and she hopped down as she reached the next ally. Before anyone could question or really note the dog's presence, she was across the cobblestone street and back into the shadows between buildings.
Silently, she took note of the river and the route she had taken to reach it. While it had been subtle enough to make a silent entrance, it was still a long and circuitous route. She would have to locate a bridge next, and then find a more direct route out of the city. Both to return as quick as she could to report, and to provide a hasty escape route for the raiders should it be required.
The scent of fresh bread wafted into the dog's face like the slap of a hand. Whipping her head side to side, Angel quickly located it's source. With a willy smirk, she found that the baker had set up a wooden cart just outside the bakery. He had just gone back inside after putting a fresh load of Fougasse, and she could hear the clatter of pans as he prepared the next load. Well...her cover was that of a streetdog. Angel had already exercised the rest of her streetdog skills on this scout. the age old skill of nicking food, why not add the age old task of nicking breakfast to the list.
The blonde canine slipped between the cart and the storefront. She bounced up onto her hind legs, and craned her chin to peek over the edge. Right before her nose was the glowing warmth of a freshly baked loaf. Angel quickly wrapped her teeth around it, and plucked it off the cart. Her ears tipping forward as the door to the bakery clattered open. When the cart's owned swung around the threshold, a large basket of Ficelle in his arms, he would find only the dust left in Angel's trail...and perhaps the brief sight of a bushy blonde tail vanishing down alongside the river if he was truly cognizant to the theft.
Safe in the shadow of the great stone walls that lined the riverbank, Angel lay down, spindle legged, and cradled the bun between her fore-paws on the grass and sand covered riverside. Feeling safe for the moment, she started to nibble at her breakfast. As she ate, she worked to create a mental map of her route. She had to locate the bridge before Notre Dame. However that wouldn't be too hard now that she was alongside the river. Looking around, it seemed as if this landing was used frequently. She wouldn't have known it at the time, but Angel was parked alongside the very route that gypsies had once used to travel in the cover of darkness into and out of the city.
Eyes narrowed, she took another bite before going stock still. Her ears perking strait as she heard someone approach. Too heavy to be a rat, yet too light to be a human. Her heart pumped and she could feel adrenaline start to flow. Her paws twitched, as if ready to bolt. Swallowing her mouthful, Angel raised her head.
“I wouldn't consider slipping up behind a eating dog very wise,” Her voice was sturdy, with just the hint of a threat. Her curly tail quivered. “Why don't you come around and we can see one another?”
