An unfortunate meeting on the blasted Road. (A small bit of Marek's Revenge, as it contains a group of his soldiers.)

"It began as such a fine day. The sun, the birds, the whole gauntlet of wonderful things people use to describe a fine sunny day. Alas it could not last. Two squirrels have happened upon a group of Marek recruits. Words were exchanged, their sergeant was hit in the head by a heavy bag, and things generally escalated."

A figure wonders down the road, his eyes darting from one side of the road to the next, scanning the woodlands. The squirrel, if the tail is anything to judge by, sighs and stops. He breaths deeply of the late spring air, then gives a rather undignified sneeze. He mutters something along the lines of, "Cursed flowers...Why can't they smell like anything east?"

The Squirrel sneezes again, this time dropping his bag on his foot-a clang sounds out and a stream of curses follows from a very irritated John, who slings the pack over his shoulder again. He turns to face north. "You coming?" he calls.

Slowly, but surely, another squirrel comes into view, her fur looking quite mussed up and grimy. She also has a pack slung over her shoulder, though she doesn't seem to be bearing it quite as well as John. She keeps muttering darkly and after she hears John's colorful language, a few of those words get mixed in. After a moment she catches up with the other squirrel and nods briskly, "Of course I'm coming! I'd be coming a mite quicker if I didn't have to lug around this big ol' boat." She jerks her head back to indicate the satchel.

John's mood lightens as he chuckles at her misfortune. He yells again to the squirrel, "Oi! Come on, quit exaggerating, it ain't a boat! Count your blessings!" He turns back to his task at hand and continues walking at a more leisurely pace.

Trillis huffs, sending John the most withering glare she can muster, "If you're not careful I'll make sure you don't have any blessings to count!" She picks up the pace to catch up to the longer legged squirrel, "And you're right. This isn't a boat, because if it was, it's so heavy it would sink."

"Not to mention too large to carry...Remind me, what are ye carrying again? Ah- I forgot." John said through his mirth, his accent coming unchecked. "And what can you do to me to lose my blessings?" After a pause, "Then again, I guess you could send me back north..."

Trillis squares her shoulders and sends the other squirrel a haughty glance, "I'm carrying the food, the money and as many blankets that could fit in this thing. In all honesty I'm not sure you should trust me with the money." She grins mischievously, "Then again, it's too late to take it back." She gives a bark of laughter which comes out with a slight cackle, "I could take off your arms! Then you'd have to learn to fight with your feet. And at least you'd be alive up north."

John glances back at her, saying, "But first ye'd need to catch me!" Laughing, he breaks into a full out sprint, outdistancing her by a good measure. Again he sneezes, then, tripping over his own tail, promptly falls in a heap. Another string of curses are let out, then he gets up.

Trillis gives a mock growl and seems about to make some cheeky remark when the other squirrel takes off. She runs after him, screeching, "HA! Catching you will be the easy part!" Her statement, however, is sadly contradicted by how out of breath she is when she finally catches up with the tripped up squirrel. She drops her satchel and places her paws on her knees whilst she pants, "Just,-gasp-stay right there until gurgle- I catch my breath."

John, dusting himself off (and still muttering...words...under his breath), looks at her. After a bit, he says, "Right...I don' have all day! I can't sit here 'till Ah'm ol' an' gray! Hurry up, well ye?!" He then laughs at his misfortune.

Trillis raises an eyebrow and mutters darkly, "Well arn't you supportive." She gets a rather curious glint in her eye and suddenly sweeps up her pack and chucks it at the other squirrel, screeching, "AAAAAAAYYY!"

The elder squirrel hears the yell and the whoosh of the beg and dodges out of the way. Unfortunately, it still strikes his shoulder. Curses, the sound of a crack and a rip, and the contents of the pack spill out from his area. He curses ill fate once more then stops making noise. He looks at her, his face blank. "I thought you said it was to heavy to carry. How did you manage to throw it?" he states, the last words betraying his irritation.

Trillis seems a tad too satisfied with the destruction she just wrought. She shrugs lightly, dusting off her paws, "Maybe I exaggerated....slightly. In any case, now all this stuff" She gestures to the all-around mess of her pack, "Will have to be stuffed into your bag." She grins a little too innocently.

He mutters darkly, bending down to stuff the food, coin, and campware into his bag. John rears up to his full hight, and slings it over his shoulder. "Ah shoulda takin' thae bloody thing in thae first place. Save the trouble." He sighs, rubbing his shoulder. He glances at her, saying, "Come on. We should go now." He turns on his paw and strolls down the road.

Trillis grins, happy to be rid of the bag, but her mood is dampened slightly by John's sullenness. She bites her lip then slowly trots after him, muttering quietly, "Thanks. And....sorry for busting it on your shoulder."

John keeps walking briskly until he hears her apology. He turns sharply a finger raised, about to say something, then sneezes, and again drops his pack. His tail hairs decide at that moment to stand on end, giving him a rather comical look. He pauses, thrown off, then laughs heartily. "Darn flowers...'Tis fine! It only stings a lot!" Again he laughs, his mirth lifting him again in high moods.

Trillis shrinks away slightly when the older squirrel whirls around, but hesitantly starts grin when he sneezes. She tries for a moment to contain her laughter when his fur gets all messy, but her efforts don't last long and she bursts into laughter. Everything now happy again, Trillis starts to walk again, this time being more brisk about it, "I'll bet I can reach Redwall first! Or wherever it is that we're going."

"Well, then, shall we continue to the Abbey?" John says, "And as for the bet, you'd win. I'm a horrid gambler." He laughs again as he strides forward.

Trillis grins and continues to walk, taking two steps to John's one, "That's the truth. Didn't you get gambled out of a cloak at one point in Collinsell? You should try playing with a trick deck! It's much easier."

"I told you that before, ye know." John stops. Looking at her, he says, "Guess it's been some time though...I paid you to wash this rag, don't ye remember?"

• * *

With the noon day sun baring down on them there is a disturbance to the south. Walking along the road to meet the squirrels is a large host of vermin. The sounds of "Left Right Left Right..." can be heard from this distances with enough force to hear the capital letters in the beasts voice. A slender bark leather clad pine marten leads the procession of tired looking beasts, six in total including the marten. There are two cats, both calico, a black scaled lizard with yellow stripes running down his back. A red furred fox, and a weasel. All of them wear brown bark leather armor breast plates and grieves with heavy bags over their backs. The last beast, the grey furred weasel, is suffering the most having to carry the weight of the bag and his portly pot gut that his armor can't quite cover. It's Fargo's first day in the army and the Drill sergeant has taken special liking to the weasel...liking to make him an example of what a warrior does NOT look like, and to burn the fat from his body with a healthy death march that even the more sturdy beasts are having trouble with.

Trillis frowns in concentration as she tries to remember what John speaks of. She squints and after a moment shrugs in defeat, "I dunno. I remember washing it, but...." She huffs in exasperation, My memory hasn't been the same since that bloody guard took a liking to beating my head in with his spear haft." She falls silent for a moment before frowning, "Say, do you hear something odd?"

The older squirrel's ears perk up. "No, but I do see a few beasts heading towards us." John points south. "But nothing odd there. It 'tis a road, ye know." He begins walking again.

"Hey Sarge! When are we going to actually kill us some woodlanders! I joined up to fight, not march until my tail fell off!" The fox grumbles loudly. The sergeant marten turns her head towards the vulpine and shouts loud enough to wake the dead, "Only Soldiers get to fight, and you are not a soldier. You are not even a beast. You are not even a bug! You are dirt! Worthless, down trodden dirt! And you will stay that way until you prove me otherwise or die trying. Do I make myself clear you miserable lot of dirt dwelling maggots!" The troops shout in unison, "Sir yes sir!" Save for fargo who shouts, "Yes sir! Ma'am...sir...sergeant. Say, what am I supposed to say exactly?" He cowers under the glare of the pine marten. "S-shutting up now sir/ma'am." Grumbling something that cannot be repeated to sensitive ears...or even unsensitive ears the sergeant tells her troops to halt. "You have five minutes to rest or finish coughing up what ever slop you had for breakfast. Anyone not back on their feet by then gets fed to Marek's monitor lizard."

Trillis peers ahead to where the other squirrel pointed, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, "Indeed.....Road or not, that's an awfully large group, don't you think?" She falls into step behind John rather than beside him as they continue closer to the group of vermin. The squirrel stops his stride, again. He curses, turns back towards her, and says, quietly, "Well, they're armed. And I spot at least one fox among them. Can't make the other's out yet, though." John moves to the side of the road, pauses, and adds, "They might just pass us by...Then again..." His paw strays to his sword hilt.

"Alright, you sorry pack of worms! Up and atom! Time to move on!" The marten snaps. Fargo raises a paw in panic, "B-but Sergeant Wick! That wasn't five min-" The weasel leans back from the marten who turns to just glare at him, he nearly bends over backwards as she continues to lean forward, "You questioning my orders Fatty? The high lord Marek needs tip top soldiers! Not riff raff." When fargo doesn't reply the marten gives the order to move. The small horde of beasts continue to move. A moment later she gives the order to stop. With the squirrels with in shouting distance she...shouts. "You! Who goes there!" She apparently doesn't seem to share the squirrel’s 'they might just be travelers...on a road...people use to travel' view.

Trillis nudges John lightly after the marten shouts, "I'm pretty sure they're not going to pass us. Just saying." She stays behind John allowing him to answer for the both of them, whilst she toys with the thought of running off into the forest.

John glances at her. Not answering the teenaged squirrel, he turns to the pine marten. "Two travelers! An' last time Ah checked, a beast on this road didn't have to answer questions. Now then, who are ye?"

Wick takes a dramatic pose as she says, "We are soldiers of the High and Great and powerful Marek the stoat!" the beasts behind her seem to roll their eyes. Some beasts take their jobs just way too seriously. The group of beasts take a well deserved break as the marten approaches, "And I get to ask questions of who ever I want cause I'll turn you into soup if you don't answer me. Now, I won't ask twice. What's your business in these parts?"

Trillis glances furtively at the forest. It would probably be possible to get a decent distance away from the vermin, but then that'd leave John here. Then again, surely he can take care of himself. The young squirrels thoughts are cut off by the advancing marten. She narrows her eyes, saying loudly, "Well aren't you just demanding today! Our business is no concern of yours, miss nosey."

"As I said before, travelers." John ignores Trillis' comment, and continues, "Though I should elaborate, shouldn't Ah? We are headin' south, hoping to visit Redwall by the Sunset." He takes a step towards the marten, "But it seems that will be dashed if ye try somethin.’ An' who in Hellgates is Marek? Some fatty like that 'un carrying yer packs?" Saying the last part in a mocking tone.

The pine martens face blazes red, "Insolent cur!" She flails her arms as she rants, her speech is peppered with curses and cusses that we will kindly blot out and pretend don't exist. "Marek is a great conquerer! A legend of vermin everywhere! He took over the unbeatable Redwall! He rules this land!" Wick takes a breath and composes herself. "I think it's time you lot learned this lesson." She whistles loudly, "Hey you miserable lot of maggots back there! It's time to prove yourselves as something more than cannon fodder for Marek. Take these squirrels captive." She smiles evilly as she takes a step back. When nothing happens she turns and snarls, "Today beasts! Today!"

Trillis winces as the marten begins to rant. She takes a few steps back, giving John a side long glance and muttering, "Goodness, she curses more then you!" Her eyebrows knit in concern at the mention of Redwall being taken over. Where are they supposed to go? She draws her machete, preparing to fight.

John's own eyebrows rise at the word Redwall, then, hearing Trillis' mutterings, lets out a laugh. He quickly recovers himself and takes a few bounding leaps 'till he is next to Wicks, and swinging the pack with a great heave, aims it at the top of the unfortunate pine marten’s head; hoping it connects.

The marten's head spins a full 180. She staggers backward, spitting out a loose tooth she says, "The wheels on the wagon go round and round, round and-" she collapses face first into the ground. There is stunned silence as the beasts watch there sergeant get knocked out. Then weapons begin to be drawn...

Trillis nods approvingly at John's actions with the haversack and proceeds to advance, though for the moment, she tends to stay behind the other squirrel

Drawing his own blade, John drops the sack in the dirt. Muttering something about armor, he takes a fighting stance. "Does anyone else want a go at mae? If not, go back to this 'Marek' beast and be the cowards ye are!" Yelling the last words, he charges the group of vermin, his sword ready.

The beast's exchange glances then as one the tired horde charge with their short swords. Fargo lags behind waving his paws, "Wait! Can't we just talk...about...this..." he groans. It looks like its going to be a bad day all around...

• * *

It began as such a fine day. The sun, the birds, the whole gauntlet of wonderful things people use to describe a fine sunny day. Alas it could not last. Two squirrels have happened upon a group of Marek recruits. Words were exchanged, their sergeant was hit in the head by a heavy bag, and things generally escalated. There are five beasts remaining. Two cats, a fox, a rat and a weasel. The latter stands back in horror as his comrades in arms charge the woodlanders with no actual battle plan or formation. That was going to be covered in the next training session. For now, they have short swords and by the light they are going to use them.

Trillis hangs back for a moment, though once John rushes in she soon follows. She attempts to stay more on the edge of the group, engaging the slightly stunted rat with her machete. It seems doubtful their little one on one will stay as such for very long.

Cursing that his bluff failed, the tall squirrel aims his charge towards one of the cats. John suddenly thrust the cross guard of his blade into the feline's face. He follows with a jab at the cat's stomach with his free paw.

The sounds of battle echo through out the forrest. Blade upon blade as the rat and squirrel fence, exchanging blows that threaten with death or dismemberment. The vermin, while more numerous and possibly more given to violence, are not as experienced. The rats attacks are wild, untrained. He's having trouble keeping up with the otters movements.

The cat is fairing even worse. The calico cat has a black eye where a white patch of fur normally resides. Already stumbling back with a broken nose the blow to the gut causes him gasp in pain. Collapsing to the side the remaining fox and other tabby cat fill the gap he leaves, "Watch me collect my first hide!" The fox says, swinging down at the squirrel.

At times an unexperienced opponent is the most dangerous. Trillis continues to duel with the rat, seeming hesitant to kill him, when she can actually get a blow in edgewise. She acquires a gash to her upper right arm. Gritting her teeth she continues to fight, attempting to slice open rat's left shoulder.

John, distracted by a sneeze, barely has time to register the sword and fox. He dodges to the side, but not quickly enough. The Fox catches him on the left flank, though pays dearly for the strike, as John, cursing ill fate, again, while clutching his side, thrusts this own blade into the fox’s belly.

The fox's eyes flash wide, doubling over with a pained expression. His own blade falls away from limp paws that go to clutch at the blade running through his furry middle. "But...I..." he stumbles backward. "Bleedin’ heck..." The remaining cat hesitantly readies himself to attack. "Fargo, you still alive back there?" The weasel watches the rat shout in pain, dropping to one knee with a monster of a gash in his shoulder. The rat snarles getting back up and flailing his blade at Trillis. It's not a very good attack. "Maybe...why?" The cat visibly rolls his eyes, "Get your cowardly hide up here and fight!"

Trillis skips backward to avoid the rats wild blade. While his arms swings wide to bring the sword in for another slash, she jumps forward and plunges her weapon into his torso, leaping back again once the deed is done so as to avoid the force with which the blade will be carried forward.

Turning towards the tabby cat, John slides the blade out from the fox. "Would ye...ye like t-...tae go to Hellgates next, vermin?" Holding his bleeding side, he moves forward, the blade point ready.

The rat expires, crumbling towards the squirrel. The cat and weasel both take a step back away from the squirrels, especially when one begins to threaten them so menacingly. His bloodied sword makes up for his stutter. The cat and weasel both exchange glances. "You know...we did put up a valiant fight against these twenty mad beasts that jumped us after Wick and Leroy got knocked out, eh?" the cat says. With a curt nod Fargo chuckles nervously, "Twenty? I counted thirty!" The two turn tail and dash down the road away from the squirrels at most haste.

Trillis yanks her machete out of the rat, shivering slightly at the gore covers it. She drives it into the dirt and hurries forward to John's side, looking him over anxiously, "Are you alright?" She glances around at the dead and unconscious beasts alike, "And what should we do with these?"

John watches the fleeing beasts 'till they are out of sight, and chuckles. He turns towards Trillis, saying, "I-Ah'm fine..As for those...leave 'em..." He gives a weak smile and falls over, the blasted world spinning...