An Otter Fur Vest, Please.
- Characters: Bindi Littlerat, Slade and his squirrel companion.***
The Black Gull - Tavern
An ever present combination of smells greets any new arrival upon entering the Gull. Various ales and grogs, rums and wines; of course, the scents and aromas of liquors would be there. It's a tavern. But along with those airs, the underlying odor of unwashed bodies and unclean boots can be detected. It is this joining of scents that gives the Gull a very well-loved and oft' visited personality.
That, and the state of the inner commons, as well.
The scuffed floorboards beneath ones footpaws will guide anybeasts' eyes to the simplistic layout that the Gull was designed in. The east wall opens, narrowly, its mouth for a well-lit vestibule to settle uncomfortably. Light, both from the outside, and the two lanterns hung there, casts a revealing glow upon the entrants, giving the patrons within a rather decent visual. Slipping further into the Gull, the light grows dimmer, and far less frequent. With no windows to the outdoors, the tavern is held in the palm of eternal dusk.
Across from the entrance, the bar has been placed upon a, slightly, raised platform. Being open on either end, it's not uncommon to see the tavern's wenches and 'tenders hustling about, passing one another as they go about their duties. Reflecting, poorly, the goings on about the bar is a large, dusty old mirror. A few beasts have traced various crude pictures in the gathered dust around the border, but for the most part the mirror (the middle of it, at least) remains clear. Cracks of time and stains from thrown drinks stripe the looking glass in a few places. Various racks and shelves with bottles, labeled and not, settle on either side of this mirror above casks. Two doors, abused and slightly battered, rest behind the bar; One faces the west and to the barn and paddock, while the other, North-facing, gives way to the kitchens. To the south is a platform consisting of drenched, copper-brown wood (mainly from spilled blood, one might assume).
With the season changing once again, the open hearth nestled against the northern wall, along with a staircase, has roared back into life. A steady fire can almost always be seen and heard crackling lazily over dead wood. A few run-down garlands are strung about the mantle; somebeast's attempt at making the Gull a little more festive, perhaps.
It's an uncommonly nice day for the recent weather Mossflower country has been experiencing. The sun shines contentedly from its place in the sky, shadowed frequently by passing clouds. Birds chatter in the forest and bees buzz lazily. It would truly be a shame to pass up such a day! Thus, Bindi Littlerat, has taken it upon himself to leave his secluded home on the banks of the River Moss and make his way to the ever endearing Black Gull Tavern. That, and he would hate to be late to his meeting. The water rat steps into the tavern, looking around cautiously at the fairly empty establishment. It's been quite sometime since he's last been around civilization, his lack of clothing giving testament to that fact.
Finding the other beast would have proven easy even in a crowd. His boots propped up on a table and with his back against the wall, Slade sits with his leather hat covering the majority of his face. He uses a serrated knife to dig out the old tobacco from his pipe. Perhaps not the best tool for the job but one makes due with what they got.
The badger seems oblivious to anything other than his work. Next to him a squirrel sits cross legged on the table gnawing at the leg bone of wood pigeon. She wears the hide of a fox over her shoulders with a fox tail tied to her own.
Bindi spies Slade and starts to move towards his table, skirting gingerly around the various other patrons. Once the rat reaches the table, he eyes the badger's companion skeptically before addressing Slade, "Yew Slade?" His voice is gruff, and surprisingly high. He speaks like he is constantly straining, though he is visibly not in pain.
The blade pauses in its work for only a moment before continuing. The badger doesn't glance up from his pipe but instead taps it on his boot. "Possibl-ey. It all depends on hue is askin." The squirrel to his right seems to bore her eyes through the rat as she rips the bird leg clean of meat.
Slade finishes cleaning out his pipe, finally to cast his own gaze at the water rat. A pair of hazel eyes almost glow in the low light of the tavern. He looks the rat up and down, as if weighing his value. To what end he does not say.
Looking back at his pipe, he brings out a pouch from his side. Focused on his task the badger asks, "It also depends on what you want Slade to do fer you..."
Bindi sniffs and wipes an arm across his nose, saying by way of introduction, "Bindi Littlerat" He yanks out the chair on the other side of the table and flops down into it. Whilst Slade finishes with his pipe, Bindi wrinkles his snout at the squirrel and sticks his tongue out, muttering, "Wha're yew lookin' at?" He turns his attention back to the badger, glancing suspiciously at those hazel eyes and leather hat. When faced with the question of what can be done for him, the rat folds his paws onto the table, in what he imagines is a very political gesture, "Oi fancy meself a coat o' fur. Oi heard yew were tha" beasty ta talk to."
The match lights up the features of the badgers face. He leans back and stretches his paws out to either side, "You be hearin right mai friend." He takes a puff on his pipe. The scent is foul and seems to just hover in the air about the badger, "I can see that you are..." he gives a chuckle at the rat's current state of clothing, "A beast of refined taste. What kind a coat you fancy fer yourself? Something fine, something simple? If I don't have it on paw...well, I can get it for you."
"At a price." The squirrel says simply. She finishes her meal and continues to sit cross legged on the table; staring unblinkingly at the rat.
A confused shadow passes over Bindis face at the badgers chuckle of laughter. Was that a joke? Or sarcasm? However unsure, he decides not to pursue the matter. He removes his paws from the table and lets his scrawny arms hang at his sides, "Oi think Oi'd like a..." He pauses, wipes his nose once again, then continues, "Oi'd loik somethin' real fine. Made o' otter skin an with lovely green buttons. A vest o' sorts." He glances dubiously at the squirrel, adding as an after thought, "As long as tha' don't cost an' arm an' a leg."
"Only if you don't pay." The badgers says with a smile. He strokes his chin thoughtfully, "Otter hide eh? That be a fancy garment indeed. Otter hide not being the easiest thing to get in des parts, but ol' Slade can do it." Of course the badger would have said rats were hard to find if he thought he could get more money out of it. "Four silver pieces and twenty copper. Less you got something you want to trade fer it."
Bindi wrinkles his nose distastefully and his voice takes on a noticeably whiney edge, "An' where is an honest beasty souch at meself 'upposed ta get four bloody silver an twenty copper?" He gives a rather long suffering sigh and wipes his nose once again before continuing, "Oi 'uppose Oi do 'ave somethin' ta trade. Do yew' 'ave a use fur a big ol' cauldron? Or mebbe a couple'o brass buttons? O' course Oi don't 'ave any o' this wit me, but if'in yew gimme a day, Oi'll 'ave it fer ya"
Taking his feet off the table, Slade shifts his weight and leans forward, "You want me to go tracking through the woods, catch an otter and then turn it into a vest, for a cauldron...and some buttons?" He waits for a long moment to see how the rat will respond.
Bindi visibly winces at the badgers words. He is reminded of why he has sequestered himself away in the woods in the first place: responsibilities and social situations that can get you killed. The rat fidgets in his chair, casting his eyes down to the table top, "Well, Oi 'uppose tha' wouldn't be satis-factry ta a beasty souch as yerself." He pauses a moment before continuing, "Foin. Oi'll get me paws on tha' money one way or anotha'. Unless yew take paymont in books. Oi /could/ get yew a real foine sword" He glances hopefully up at the badgers.
Slade raises an eyebrow. "A sword you say?" He strokes at the beard on his chin most thoughtfully, "I 'might' be willing to trade an otter hide vest for a blade." He crossed his arms again, "Wot kind of blade are we talking about here?"
The squirrel rolls her eyes. Blades. Picking herself up off the table, she slides off onto her seat; she clutches at her stomach and winces...like a squirrel who had just eaten a leg of wood pigeon.
Seeing that the badger is potentially interested, Bindi hurries to describe the weapon in question, possibly smudging a few details, "Oh, it'sa roight foin blade. Won it inna game o' poker quoit a few seasons ago, Oi did. It'sa true weapon fer a warrior. It's hilt is all wrapped toight in leather. It used ta 'ave a pommle stone, but it came loose at some point. Mebbe yew could replace it witha stone o' yer choosin'! Oh, an don't get me start'ed on tha' blade. It's made o' tha finest steel, 'an not a speck o' rust on 'er! An' sharp to! It'll cut through near anythin'." He nods adamantly and settles further back into his chair, perhaps trying to stay as far away as possible from the odd squirrel and mildly intimidating badger.
The badger's eyes gleam at the thought of wearing such a fine blade. "Alright, yew gots yourself a deal. I'll meet you back here in about a weeks time either wid'th a vest or the material to make one from. If I don't find your sword to be too fancy...well, I'll leave it to your imagination as to what happens next. Come along." The badger stands from the table and gestures for the squirrel to follow. When she clutches at her stomach and then her muzzle before running off to the loo the badger rolls his eyes and sighs, "I dun told ye ya can't eat...oh nevermind." To the rat he points with his claw, "Remember. One week." The beast then lumbers off, stooping to fit through the door to the tavern.
Bindi nods again, "Aye, one week it 'tis!" Once the badger has left, the rat gulps and leans heavily on the table. Now all he has to do is make the sword half way presentable and try not to get made into a rug.
- Thanks for reading! If anyone has an otter they want to get rid of, or simply wants to spoof one for the taking, please p#mail either Bindi or Slade. :D ***
