Angus Shrugged

• Location: Collinsel

• Participants: Hactor, Dangeon, Wizened Old Weasel (Stubb spoof), Trace, Amos, Angus

(Sometimes Club)

Hactor slolwy opened his good eye, and yawned stretching. He was slumped in his seet from the night before, his pipe resting on the table. That wasn't all that was resting. Many patrons were sleeping on the floor, or at tables in drunken bliss. Hactor snorted, and grumbled under his breath, "Ta hell with this." The Tod slowly, but angrily began to hobble to the door,

Dangeon is passed out somewhere and unlikely to wake soon.

A wizened old weasel with fronds of gray hair is hunched at a back table, poring over a ledger and dropping coins a methodical intervals into a small sack. From time to time, he looks irritably up over his glasses at the collection of bodies strewn across the tavern. "Not runnin' a bloody hotel..." He quirks a meaningful eyebrow at Hactor before returning to his business.

Trace is... not in the bar. She's outside. Sitting. Right by the door. And she's been staying like this for the past two nights, despite what anyone may have thought about her going upstairs and actually sleeping in the room that she's been paying for. Nope. Trace is camped out, sitting on the dirty ground (with a cloak laid out on the ground to sit on. She won't lower her standards /that/ much), with her head nearly toppled over onto her chest as she tries valiantly to continue to stay awake. Likely, if the door is to open and allow a certain fox out, someone's going to have a hissy fit.

Hactor does just that and begins to head outside, giving a slight nod to the counting weasel. He pokes his mangy head out the door, glancing up and down the street. It's still relativly early and dark, so he doesn't notice the half awake Trace as he puts his hood over his head and begins to leave the Tavern in search of Stubb.

Trace almost misses him. Almost. It's hard to miss the sound of the door opening when it's the /one/ sound that Trace has been waiting for most of the night. Even if she is almost asleep. But Trace's head jerks up with a little movement and a, "Huh?" of sound that is nothing like her normal eloquent nature. And then, watching a certain fox pulling a hood over his head, Trace suddenly seems to wake up a bit more. "YOU." It comes out in a tired hiss, as the ratmaid pushes herself to her feet in a sudden flurry of movement. "You rotten /cheater/! I knew as much! I could have guessed! I /did/ guess!" It's still in a sort of whispered hiss, even as Trace bolts forward to try to grab him by the shoulder and spin him around. Or something equally dramatic and angry.

Hactor cocks a busy eyebrow at Trace as she starts yelling at him, and attempting to violenelt tug him. He sighs, not even budging an inch as he begins to walk the other derection half dragging her with him. As he tries to limp away he growls over his shoulder, "Don't you got better things ta do rat? Loike jump offa cliff er somethin eh?"

Amos awakens inside of the tavern, lifting his head from the bar and eyeing the sleeping hare snuggled up to the horse. He collects his belongings, drawn to the noise of yelling. A familiar noise, he stumbles out into the street half awake, "What the two of you going on about?" He blinks, "Hactor, where you think you're going?"

"My plan," grumbles the fox to the duo, "Was ta foind Stubb and get outa here bafore were all killed. Tha lott of ya were sappose ta split tha noight before, and Stubby and I were gonna lead em off!" He angrily turns a corner, now at a full stride. "That did no werk out, and now we gotta save Angus' arse as well!"

"Somebody decided to leave without telling any of us!" Trace states over her shoulder, as she continues on her fervent march to follow after the fox. It's almost comical how fast she has to walk to keep up, but her still-steaming anger is keeping her going. "As we've said before. We'll grab Stubb and leave here as a group. There's no argument in this! What do you suppose the rest of us might do if the two of you never showed up at the rendezvous point? Or would there even have been a rendezvous? Stupid, conceited men, thinking they can handle things on their own. Amos, do grab the others and come along!"

Amos is somewhat hungover, so all the shouting and acitivity to keep up with the fox has Amos huffing and scowling, "Will ya two wait a blasted a moment, " He stops to catch his breath, pukes and is bent over, "Curses, my bloody head..." He doesn't seem to acknowledge Trace, stopping for a moment before he catches up and tries to regain his composer, "I don't know, the horse and hare should be fine and ain't got no reason to bring that mouse with us she ain't nothin' but trouble anyway."

Hactor emedeitly stops, and wrinkles his nose at the voment for a moment before he continues his angry stride. "Fine!" he snarls at Trace, "If you have ta come along than go ahead. Jast /don't/ get in tha way!"

"Oh, please." Trace follows along after Hactor in her own continued speedy stride. "Don't get in the way, he says. Of what? Of you blundering your way through some sort of half-minded rescue operation?" Oh. Now she's just being mean. But he DOES deserve it for trying to sneak out like this.

"The lady's got a point, ain't like ya didn't announce ta the whole tavern your intentions, " Amos is still huffing, but keeping up a bit better and seemingly more composed of himself as well, "Nor did ya exactly help matters, ain't our fault that we in this mess!"

The march onward to...

North East Square (Collinsel)

Hactor continues his determined march in silence, trying to ignore the valid yet iritating points made by his comrades. As they walk out into the square Hactor sniffs the air. He smells something...familier.

While shadow still engulfs much of the city, the first rays of dawn have begun to spew a bit of orange on its fringes. The morning air is thick, toting the scent of rain, all though the clouds linger at a distance. A creature lumbers its agonized bulk through a nearby alley, sloshing at puddles and kneading its brow; Angus is quite lost, and looking a bit rough after his stint in the pokey. He materializes amid two shops, squinting against the light, snout wrinkled and beard crimped.

Valid, yet irritating. That seems to match just about everything Trace says anymore. Though as she follows after the fox, she's at least taken to silence. There's not a whole lot else to say at this point, other than assuming that Hactor knows where he's going. If he doesn't, they're all pretty much in trouble. It's not hard to catch the sound of something large sloshing through the puddles, however, and as Hactor pauses to sniff the air, Trace just comes up alongside him and squints into the dark. "That is /not/ who I think it is. Is it?"

Amos is still not all that great but seems committed to following the two in their march to rescue Stubb. He too remains quiet, half worrying about the hare but she should be fine after all with that horse of hers looking after her. He chuckles abruptly for no obvious reason before being distracted by Trace's voice. He looks up, spots the lizard and rushes past the rat towards him, "Aye, Angus! Mate, ya got out!"

Hactor opens his mouth as if to say something in iritation, but then he to notices the monitor. He goes forward, but it's still in and angry stride, his face sturn. "You-you..idjit!"

Angus tugs at his jacket, which the drunk tank or the rainy night has left damp and uncomfortable. He fidgets with the clingy thing for a moment, but is quickly exasperated by its wetness; so, instead, the lizard removes it, slinging it over a shoulder, as he slumps against the closet wall. Just as he was about to give up all hope of ever reuniting with his ragamuffin chums, the dragon cranes to catch a barrage of yells. Unable to make out the source, the bleary eyed heap blinks several times, absently thumbing the matted fur collar of his coat. "Eh, er .." he mutters, releasing a snort of relief when he recognizes the trio. "Aye. It's me, mates." For now, his interest in regaling them with tales of his brief incarceration is minimal. The dragon is quiet, bedraggled.

"Oh, hush your mouth, Hactor," Trace chides, setting him with one of her patented Stern!Stares. "You're certainly one to talk." And then she's heading forward toward Angus, with a her own sigh of relief. "Angus, what are we going to /do/ with you!?" The ratmaid hurries forward, until she's close enough to look over him. "Angus! You look positively horrible. But thank goodness they let you out." She pauses, looking back to the others, before fixing him with a quirked brow. "They /have/ let you out, haven't they? If not, we'll need to be moving quite a bit faster than we currently are."

Amos seems reenergized by Angus' return, "Good to see ya Angus, hope the guards didn't cause ya too much trouble, " He eyes the three of them beaming, "We'll rescue ol' Stubb for sure now, ain't that right Hactor?"

Hactor grunts a bit, but after the scolding form the ratmaid he grumbles, "Yeah yeah, good ta see ya." His eye then swivvles to Amos at the mention of rescue. He highly doubts they'll find that weasel at this point, but then Trace asks if Angus had been freed. The fox's eye emedietly goes back to the lizard.

Angus continues to pick at the wet jacket, but this preening is fairly unproductive, a means to distraction. He swirls a foot claw in the puddle beneath him, gazing solemnly at the muck, and offers Trace, in lieu of eye contact, an affirmative nod. "Aye, imma' legit free beast," he tells her. A vague smile crawls for Amos, but fades fast. "So ye'--wait? Yew ain't got Stubb?" Lizard eyes flick to meet that of the fox . "I though ye' said ye' had 'im at the pub? What happened?"

Trace looks between Angus and the others, really not liking the way Angus just seems... well, subdued. This whole group has just gotten weird in the past couple of weeks since word of Stubb's troubles. And the ratmaid shifts in her steps, not quite pacing, but still doing the same fidgetey movement that denotes her anxiety. "We'll be rid of this city soon," she states, in a bit more subdued tone. "We've yet to find Stubb." She shoots a sharp glare toward Hactor and then stands a bit straighter as she catches onto Amos' beam. "You know. He's right, chaps. We have this one." Trace slams a fist into her free paw. "No more setbacks! We'll find that weasel and leave this town behind for some other poor blokes to suffer."

"Aye, we're just going to get our weasel back now Angus so don't'cha go and start worrying, " Amos turns to Hactor,grinning, "You, cheer up! He'll be there, in any case ya stopping to grumble and be moody ain't gonna help... so lets get going chaps!"

Angus reluctantly pries himself from the wall. "Aye." The dragon rolls his shoulders back, cracking his spine, as he steps from the alley to greet the shy sun. "Is there a, er, course of action, m'love?" He glances past his shoulder, beyond tufts of matted coat collar, to where his colleagues linger. "Or are we t'just wander th' streets 'til we find 'im or," the monitor stops to inhale, a nostril flared, ".. 'til some cloaked zealot finds us?" There is no pause for response; the dragon simply turns and saunters, stoic, into the street.

"The course of action is we find that bloody weasel and get our tails out of this bloody town," Trace remarks, folding her arms across her chest and looking between the others. Hactor has already started leading the way in .. well, whatever direction it is they're supposed to go, and she just gestures for the other two to follow. "We've got this, boys," she repeats, with a level of certainty on her part. "Be vigilant. Since when are we afraid of a group of ... over-stuffed .. zealots?! Between the four of us, we'll make quick work of them, if they give us any sort of hassle." Oh, she's on a roll now.

Amos grips his weapon at his side, seeming to will himself alert despite a lack of a full nights sleep and the lingering effects of a hangover, "Aye, follow that fox mates!"

Angus tilts his head as the others pile from the alley. Pivoting, he follows suit, headed after the one-eyed, one-armed, one and only Hactor. "Right right, mates," he glumly croons, flexing a bit as the sun beats on his naked back; his copper hide nearly glows in spite of its dust. The lizard lazily lolls his head from side to side, eyes mostly shut, tongue flitting to chart his course, as he delights in the morning warmth; it seems to ameliorate his strife. "Follow what's left of th' fox." A smile crawls over his snout once more, toothy but resigned. "How bad kin they be? Bunch a' poncho-sportin' wimps, no doubt. All covered up t'hide their knockin' knees." He absently boxes at the air in front of him.

That fox happens to be heading off on his own grumpy way, and Trace hurries after him without any intention of letting him out of her sight /again/. "They'll never know what hit them," she agrees, almost strutting in her little walk now. "Though, with any luck, we'll be able to drag his weasel tail out of there without running into any of those blokes." She glances back briefly, looking over her shoulder at the monitor and cat with a little grin touching her otherwise serious expression. "It's quite good to have you back, Angus. You gave us a scare. Please, in the future, allow me to chaperone if you feel the urge to drink yourself silly?" It's said in a joking tone, but she's still soooort of serious.

"The ratty lass has a good head on her shoulder Angus, ya should listen to her, " Amos smirks, "Not even Dangeon gets in that much trouble with the drink, though she and Darkmane did nearly kill that rabbit feller the other night, " He admits, "In any case onward!"

One eye cracks to sagely peer at the rat, fists suspend their attack on invisible adversaries and the reptilian grin quavers. "Don't worry, love. Won't be gettin' my slithery rump in that sorta' pickle again. Ye' kin have my work about that." The lizard lifts a brow at the wildcat and his diatribe. "Dang? C'mon, Amy, th' lass done got herself snatched by a ghoul-dog." He brings a hand to the back of his neck. "An' so did that one." The other hand points a finger at Hactor's back. "An' Stubb's all tangled up in--well. Either way, so I 'ad a lil' mishap with th' authorities. Ain't th' end o' no worlds." Scuffing his heels against the cobbled street, the lizard falls quiet for a beat, then mumbles, "Apologies, mates."

"No harm done, Angus." Trace offers a smile, as she gestures the two on again and then skips forward a few steps so as not to lose sight of Hactor. "Really, you should have seen us trying to get you out. My, you would have thought they had locked away Amos' firstborn or something, with the way he was yowling at those guards." The group heads after Hactor as the slowly rising sun casts long shadows against their forms, and their destination looms in the distance. "Indeed, onward! Let us do this and be done with it."