Detour
A lovely evening in South Mossflower, the kind that attracts beasts who want to walk around outside and take in the air, breathe in the wonderful scent of afternoon, and thank the heavens that they live in a place as free of conflict as Mossflower. Even vermin such as this middle aged stoat are thankful for these kind of days. The stoat had just finished playing trainer to a collection of vermin youths who wanted to improve their image in the world, and they'd be shuffled into a vermin militia which would patrol the wild areas of Mossflower, keeping watch for horde beasts of all kind. It's a noble effort... and that's why it's a shock when an arrow arcs towards him, falling short of his chest and imbedding itself into his stomach. The stoat falls instantly, gasping in writhing in pain as he suffers from the gutshot, gurgling blood and clutching at an arrow that he's far too weak to pull out now. As the blood pools around his midsection, he wonders just who would do such a thing.
Who could kill someone who'd dedicated his life to helping those many years his junior. By the time Verstet reaches his kill, a sprig of thick, green grass clamped in his muzzle, the stoat is dead, his eyes frozen open in shock. Reaching down, Verstet gives the arrow a firm twist, then pulls it free of the bleeding wound. "Job well done, Verstet. Un more shot, un more kill."
And with no witnesses to the event either. Honestly, what was the point of gathering a militia of beasts together if they were not around to take an arrow for you when the time came? Dylan would have had some very strong words with his minions if he had been gutshot by an arrow. Had he known about the killing, or had he still had minions, or if he still had a gut to shoot.
Poor diet and lots of walking did wonders to work off that stubborn belly fat the lizard had accumulated from being King, yes. King. With a crown, a thrown, and a pit of scorpions to toss unwanted people he hated into. At least until his subjects had tossed him out of their colony...and almost ate him. Oh the thought drove him mad at night. Gold, riches, power...and now he was nothing but a mere bandit again. No, worse...Dylan was running jobs for the GUARD, the bleeding GUARD just to put meat on the table...or whatever they allowed for meat in Ferreval.
Dylan scowled at the thought as he walked. His leather vest hangs loosly about his chest and his belt, even tightened as far as it could go, hangs loosely from his hips and the weight of the long sword at his side. The lizard may be skinny, poor, and starving, but at least he had a fancy hat with a feather in it, so not all was lost.
The bandit flicks his tongue and pauses. He can smell...fire? Stove fire! And where there was a stove there was a house. and where there was a house there were beasts! And where there were beasts, there was food to steal! Increasing his pace the lizard moves briskly down the road. Maybe the Ferreval guard would disapprove of his...adventure here. But what they didn't know, didn't hurt them...much.
After checking around to make sure that the stoat was, in fact, alone, Verstet helps himself to the spoils. The body can stay on the ground, where it belongs, until Verstet's ready to look at it again, but for now... food. There's got to be SOMETHING useful inside the stoat's home. Kneeling down, Verstet pulls off his camoflauge outfit, looking as though he lost about fifty pounds in the process. The suit is carefully folded, meticulously even, so that nothing falls off or is put out of order in a way that quickly ruffling it up again won't fix, then strapped to the top of his satchel. Standing up, he lets out a pleased sigh and easily kicks in the wooden door to the stoat's home. Looking into the pot that was simmering over the fire, he pulls a face. Nothing like that for him, he's interested in more... useful fare. Bread, cheese, and dried meat are stuffed into his satchel for later, perfect travel food, the fox happily strewing around the various things in the stoat's kitchen as he raids it.
Today is a GOOD day. But can it get better? A strip of jerky clamped between his teeth, Verstet starts to stalk around the house looking for something a little shinier. After all, why not? Mr. Dead Stoat isn't going to need it!
Little did the fox know that he was about to treat guests. Dylan was moving at a much more brisk walk now, almost breaking into a job. His mind and thoughts are consumed with the food he will be stuffing his belly with soon. He can only wonder what the beasts might be cooking when he reaches the-
Stopping quite abruptly the lizard stares at the dead stoat laying in the middle of the clearing infront of the house. "Well...poo." The lizard says to himself. He drops the nap sack over his shoulder and begin to draw his long sword. THe blade is thin and quite possibly, the cleanest item the lizard has on him. A sword after all was your life in this proffession. And right now it looks like Dylan might be using it, if who ever did this was still around.
"Nothing is ever easy." Grumbles the reptile. He moves forward to house, slowly, avoiding the steps up into the cottage, instead he takes off his large, wide brimmed hat and tries to stand on the tips of his claws to peer in through a window.
Indeed Verstet wasn't expecting anyone else to stumble across the dead stoat, and if he'd just had a half hour more, he'd have been long gone. Oh well, these sorts of things happen... and that's why it's valuable to keep your eyes moving, particularly when those eyes were razor sharp from years and years of bow work. It's when Verstet was combing through a dresser that he finds a nice-sized coin purse, just waiting for him! And just before he's about to start counting up his ill-gotten-gains, he spots a reptillian face peering in at him through the window. He starts at first, suspecting that he was somehow surrounded by some kind of horrible tribe of reptillian monsters... but then he spots the stupid feathered hat. The unmistakeable sign of 'civilization' and pomp. Suddenly the threat of the monitor plummets straight through the earth's crust. Unslinging his bow from over his shoulder, Verstet smoothly plucks an arrow out of his quiver and nocks it before calling out, "I know yer there! Ya ki
kin leave, o' I kin shoot ya! Pick 'un, laddie!"
Being inside and getting cornered is bad for a bowman... really really bad. Verstet slowly stalks towards the open door, bow lifted to fire, and his muscles straining as he slowly draws back the arrow, the heavy wood creaking as the tension on the frame grows. From this close range, Verstet's willing to bet that the arrow will go straight through the monitor... he's seen them go through other things before. Still, he'd rather not risk it, beasts like that are crazy and he doesn't particularly wanted to be chewed on by a mortally wounded reptile. "En't heard of anybeast with a name like that. En't here fer him. 'fact I was jus' about to leave." Time to take the risk. Verstet makes a break for it, sprinting out the entrance of the house and into the open air, hoping that a sword won't cleave through the air... and the meat of his neck.
Dylan makes a paniced 'meep'. His eyes light up and his head dissapears from the window. Hat thrown over his head the lizard scurries around the corner of the house, keeping low to his belly until he throws his back against the wall. "Easy mate! I don't want no trouble. I ain't here to rob you. Or...eat you. Not unless you have pepper." Sword gripped in both paws Dylan turns the bottom of his hilt side ways. It makes a little snapping noise and he leaves it be for the moment.
"No need for violence. No need to go...letting arrows fly or what ever term you kids use these days." The lizard had only been able to catch a quick glimps of the occupant inside. A fox, with a bow. Really all the details he needs or cares about at the moment. After a lengthy pause Dylan asks again, "I don't suppose the name Irinevok means anything to you?" Well, he was hired to find the mouse. It wouldn't hurt to ask...right?
Being inside and getting cornered is bad for a bowman... really really bad. Verstet slowly stalks towards the open door, bow lifted to fire, and his muscles straining as he slowly draws back the arrow, the heavy wood creaking as the tension on the frame grows. From this close range, Verstet's willing to bet that the arrow will go straight through the monitor... he's seen them go through other things before. Still, he'd rather not risk it, beasts like that are crazy and he doesn't particularly wanted to be chewed on by a mortally wounded reptile. "En't heard of anybeast with a name like that. En't here fer him. 'fact I was jus' about to leave." Time to take the risk. Verstet makes a break for it, sprinting out the entrance of the house and into the open air, hoping that a sword won't cleave through the air... and the meat of his neck.
Perhaps the sword would have, perhaps not. The world may never know as Dylan had chosen at that moment to scurry forward towards the door, because who would be insane enough to come bursting through the door with armed beasts about? The window, maybe, but never the door!
Dylan makes it to the stairs first, keeping low to avoid the pointed end of an arrow launched at him. That would ruin his whole day to take an arrow to the face.
For his efforts Dylan is stepped on at the last step. he makes a pained yelp as the fox's foot paw crashes down onto his back and forces him into the ground face first. His slides out of his paw and his tail lashes about the air as the air is driven from his lungs.
As it is, Dylan was mere inches from getting an arrow to the face anyhow! Crashing into Verstet is one thing, but making him slip is something else. As he tries to regain his balance, he loses his grip on the arrow, launching it a good 8 inches deep into the ground. It's close enough that Dylan could probably lean over and lick it with his long tongue. All it takes is a blow from that lashing tail to Verstet's shins, and he's down, falling on top of the other beast, his bow falling from his grasp. Considering all the thrashing that he's doing trying to get away from the monitor, it's likely a good thing. For Dylan. He'd be worthy of pity indeed if he broke Verstet's bow!
"Oi! Off, ya damn scaley thing!"
The lizard stares at the shaft stuck so deeply into the earth so close to his head. He gulps and tosses himself away from the fox only to bash his head against the stairs. "Son of a ...woodlander!" The lizard yells as loud as he can. Despite his many, many complaints against being a bandit again, Dylan admits that he would be unable to prefrom the next feat of agility if he was still loaded down with good food and wine.
Pushing up from the ground with his arms, Dylan leaps up and lands on his feet, claws at the ready to do what nature had designed them to do. "You mangy no good dirt loving mamal of a fox! So help me I'll..." Dylan pauses as he lays sight of the fox's face. The horrible scarred flesh of his neck and head causes the lizard to hesitate. That was certainly unexpected, but to be fair the fox might be surprised to learn taht he faces not a monitor lizard but just a normal...well...even Dylan doesn't know what kind of lizard he is. Something red with a yellow belly, and tall enough to almost match the fox in height. Almost.
Truth be told, he doesn't even know WHAT he's wrestling with, Verstet just knows that he wants to be a considerably longer distance from it! But every single move he makes to try and extricate himself from the lizard, he finds that Dylan has already squirmed into an even worse position, particularly when he thumps his head. Verstet goes from trying to use the stairs as leverage to raise himself up to just barely avoiding putting his hand in the lizard's mouth. In the end, he falls back down, and comes face to face with the reptile in the process. The stunned look is something that Verstet's familiar with; the lizard wouldn't be the last beast to bear that expression, but it makes the fox sneer at him all the same. "En't I pretty, scaley? Why doncha take a closer look?!" Pulling back a few inches, Verstet lurches forwards, having every intention of catching Dylan in the face with a nutter.
The lizard reels in pain, head snapping back from the blow, "WhYYyYyyYYyYYYyy!" he shouts, clutching at his face with both paws. All Dylan wanted was some food. He was sore, he was tired, and he was hungry. He didn't want to deal with this nonsense. But if the fox wanted a fight then a fight he would get, "You half roasted fox! The scar is an improvement from your ugly mug!" The lizard then leaps at fox like a miniature velociraptor, trying to sink his claws into his shoulders, his foot claws into his gut, and of course, bite him in the ear. Can't have a good old fashioned brawl without someone being bitten in the ear. It's part of the brawlers code...somewhere...
That's... that's not expected at all! Verstet expected that the lizard would let go, not grab on harder! No sooner is Verstet halfway up than he's back on the ground, this time with a lizard clinging to his shoulders, the sharp claws digging into his flesh, and only his jerkin protecting him from getting his guts clawed out by those kicking footclaws. The bite to his ear lands perfectly... right on the already-gnarled ear. It hurts like the devil, but at least there's not much more to ruin. After all, who'd notice something looking MORE chewed on? While the lizard might stick to insults that cubs can listen to, Verstet's not half as tame. The second the lizard's teeth sink in he starts spouting a legion of swear words that would cause milk to curdle and eggs to go rotten. The fox's starts to claw back, trying to sink his fingers into the lizard's skin, but for all the flailing it's hard to actually get a grasp on something. In the end, he instead reaches down, fumbling with the hilt of his ski
skinning knife, struggling to pull it from its sheath. "Leggo or yer gonna be draggin' half yer hide in the dirt when yer runnin' back home!"
"What? So you can gut me propper when I do?" Dylan says. Due to still having his teeth chewing on the fox's ear it comes out in a muffled, "Wht? s'y cn 'ut me prop'er whn aye do?"
Perhaps not the best response to the fox with a knife hovering so close to his belly. The 'special' lining in his vest might take the blade, but more than likely it wont. At best the chain mail woven into the leather vestment would only keep the knife from sticking him to the hilt. Assuming the fox didn't stick it under the vest, or between the buttons, or in some other body part that would cease to function if having a knife stuck into it. The lizard already had some claw marks across his already red scales and the yellow scales of his under belly.
With a hiss and a growl the lizard releases his grasp on the fox and rolls away from him. He lands on his feet in a crouched position. Holding up his hands defensivly Dylan shouts, "Alright! Alright! Listen you crazy vulpine. I'm not here to check your stoat hunting license, ok? I just want some food! You seem like a very reasonable psychopath, so how about we call this a draw, leaning in my favor of course, before we end up killing each other for nothing." If lizard's could sweat Dylan would be covered in it. There was a second reason Dylan had been dreading getting back into the bandit's gig.
After several months of being a soft and lazy king, Dylan was afraid that his skills had grown soft...
Fortunate for Dylan then that he was pressed so close to Verstet as to make drawing the knife a chore. No sooner did Dylan let Verstet go than Verstet sprung backwards and rose to his feet, tugging the knife free of the sheath and aiming the point straight at Dylan, looking fully ready to lunge the absolute second the lizard tries to close the distance. The first attempt to speak to Verstet was too muffled to understand, and the fox was inches away from disregarding the second attempt. An ugly sneer appears on the fox's face, and he spits on the ground. "I told ya to leave an' ya din't. Yer not a smart thing, are ya?" Jerking his head towards the stoat, Verstet gives as good an explanation as why he's there as any. "Yer lucky killin' ya would be a waste of energy. That stoat was the only 'un I wanted."
"Oh!" Dylan says in understanding, "You're an assassin! It all makes sense now. Not really the most glamerous of jobs, but I'm a bandit, so who am I to judge." Still hesitant to relax his guard the lizard can smell food coming from the stoats cottage. Is all this trouble really worth the effort for a measly bowl of stew? The growl that erupts from his stomach says yes.
"I don't suppose you would be willing to listen to reason and let me grab some food stuffs from the cabin, would you?" Dylan takes another look at the fox's horribly deformed face. "Yeah...it was worth a shot. Alright, fine. I'm leaving, I'm leaving. See? Feet moving for the forrest. If you don't shoot me in the back while I try to escape, then I won't stab you either. Sound fair?"
The lizard took another step backward towards his sword. Despite his claim for peace, he didn't seem ready to trust this wayward fox yet.
Another wad of spit hits the ground as Dylan states what he thinks Verstet's job is. "Not an assassin. Jus' a fox what does jobs fer beasts too lazy to do 'em themselves. They say 'Verstet, fight with these archers' or 'Verstet, shoot this guy', an' I say 'pay me'. That's that." He eyes the lizard, then sneers once more. If he's not on top of him, Verstet's decided that the thing presents very little danger. And now that he's got his knife out, well... he's not entirely uncertain that the next time the lizard tries to cause problems, the situation can't be fixed with a stab to the throat. "Do whatever ya want, lizard. I'm leavin' anyhow. Jus' stay outta my way 'til then."
The lizard relaxes, if only a little. He stoops to pick up his fallen blade. So the fox is a mercenary? "YOu know know...in another life time, I think I would have hired you." The lizard tips his hat and with out further adue turns and makes a mad dash for the tree line, thinking, 'please don't shoot me in the back. please don't shoot me in the back.' all the while.
He fully intends to return later, after teh fox finishes his grizzly work. But he has no intention of telling HIM that.
Then from deep in the woods come a loud reply as Dylan cups his claws together to shout, "And you're breath stinks!"
"Better have had an awful lot of coin on ya, lizard. I en't cheap." As the lizard walks away, the knife is sheathed and the fox stoops to pick up his bow, testing it to make sure that it's undamaged... good, it's fine. Watching the lizard retreat, Verstet doesn't relax an inch, all too aware that he could come back and hit him from behind... then Dylan calls out. Narrowing his eyes, Verstet plucks an arrow from his quiver and lifts the bow, aiming it through the woods and looking for a gap just big enough to shoot through... it's easy enough to do with the telescope strapped to the bow. A brief pull and an even more brief release, and an arrow whizzes through the air, zipping straight past Dylan's head, his second near miss for the day. Verstet calls back after him, "I kin still see ya! Keep walkin'!"
