Ferdinand tells what he has heard, then Clarissa gets Wesly drunk (Ferravale)

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FV:Chieftain's Home:Main Room

The inside of the home is large, a door leads to the sleeping quarters and another to a kitchen area. This room has a large window looking outside with nice navy blue curtains on it. The floor is wooden and a large fireplace keeps the room warm in those cold months.Above the fireplace is a large painting of the Chieftain and his mate.In the room also is a table and a few chairs to sit in.A large bookcase is by a far wall with many books of all kinds on it.

Exits: [B]ack, [Bed]room, [K]itchen

Scioto the cat. Blisa the cat, Ferdinand the ferret, Clarissa the rat, and Valerie the vixen. Wesly the weasel and Markus the fox.

Scioto is sitting in the main room of his home looking over some papers from his office and looks to be just about done with them.

Blisa is feeling lots better, her cold now all gone. She comes out of her room, yawning, and clothed in a green dress. Ferdinand is pacing in front of the fire, nervously waiting for the Chieftain to hurry up and finish his paperwork so he can tell him something. Clarissa is sitting on the floor criss-cross-applesauce, oiling her whip so it will stay supple.

Scioto has finished and lays the papers aside "There, finally done and the village should be all set for when winter comes..was there something you needed?"

Ferdinand starts rubbing his paws together, her strange golden eyes darting back and forth in their sockets as he works up the courage to say what he needs to say. "Well.....Thir.....Um....." Clarissa says without looking up from her task, "We have an idea of what happened to Bandit, Captain." Blisa, who has yet to be informed of this, sits herself down on the arm of her father's chair and looks between them, curiosity showing plainly on her face. "You mean before he was eaten by the eagle?" The ferret nods and rubs the back of his neck.

Scioto frowns "Yes I heard about the eagle, not sure how true it is as I was not there when...well it happen and why would an eagle, well do what they did?"

Blisa says quickly, "Oh, it was real, Dad. I saw the eagle drop Bandit's hide myself. It really happened." Ferdinand and Clarissa look at each-other, then, as the rat goes back to her task, the ferret says, "I thpied on the wallguardth the other day, and I overheard thome thingth that thound like they betrayed the Head Guard and thold him to thome badger." OOC: referencing http://rwmuck.limitless.org/rwmuck/content/curious-er-and-curious-er-or-... :) BIC:

Scioto raises an eyebrow, "Badger? Aren't they usually good, then again could of been told Bandit was evil but the only badgers around here that I know of, also know Bandit is good...well not evil anyways, so what badger would they be talking of as they are a bit rare most places"

Ferdinand shakes his head. "I don't know, Thir. I had been thpying on the guard thack when Wethly came in, bringing Bandit's remains to be stored in the Head Guard's office. The ferretmaid who wath there gave him a note thomebeatht had left for him. I wath getting thupithiouth--thuthpiciouth--" he rests his paw on his forehead, looking visibly pained as he struggles with his speech impediment. Blisa stands and walks over to him, resting a compassionate paw on his arm. "It's okay; we understand. I don't blame you for being suspicious of him; I am, too. Keep going." Ferdinand takes a deep breath and continues. "Tho I followed him. He wath walking patht the alleyway between the bakery and the Spinner's shop when thomebeatht reached out and grabbed him."

Scioto hmmms "And who grabbed him and I would think Bandit should be buried in the graveyard...unless they are lying about him being dead somehow, but that would be fairly hard to do"

Blisa holds her Chief Bodyguard's paw as he continues. "I lithtened and it turned out to be Markuth. They were talking about how the they didn't know if thith badger -- they didn't thay hith name -- had fed Bandit to the eagle or not, but that they were planning on athking him when next they thee him." Ferdinand takes another deep breath. "Markuth thaid thomething about being 'tho clothe'. I'm concerned that maybe he hath planth to.......take over Ferravale, or thomething." Clarissa looks up and adds, "Aye, Captain. It's the opinion of us bodyguards that you and Miss Blisa might be in danger." The young cat looks at her father, her green eyes wide.

Scioto nods "Well, I think its time we had a talk with Markus...or maybe not let him have any other power. I am curious how he got in charge, I had placed no one in charge of the guards yet, I am still in charge of them till a trusted head guard can be found"

Ferdinand shrugs. "I don't know, Thir. Mith Blitha made me the Captain of her bodyguarth, but that'th the extent of my reach." Clarissa looks up, smiling. "Captain Scioto, may I ask that you /not/ have a talk with Markus any time soon? I would like to try and get more information out of him without 'im bein' suspicious that we know anythin'." Blisa walks over to her father and goes to give him a hug. "And you can carry a few more weapons around with you and wear your chain mail under your shirt. So you don't get hurt."

Scioto hugs Blisa "I can wear chainmail under a shirt, its not seen that way and I have done it before when I felt a need and you're right we should just go on as normal, but at the same time keep an eye out for trouble."

Later, in the FV:Guardhouse

The guardhouse comprises of a reasonably spacious wooden building with just one room in it and bars on all the windows. A few bunks for off duty guards back up against the wall furthest from the door often with at least one snoring lump in them. A couple of weapon racks hang out by other walls near a space of sawdust covered floor where training or just the occasional fight takes place while at a safe distance a round table surrounded by chairs holds the remains of a bit of food and drink, a tatty old pack of cards and a few dice to play with.

Exits: [H]ead Guard's Office, [Exit]

With afternoon strolling into Ferraval Wesly exits the guard shack with a stretch and a yawn. Oh how he was looking forward to ending his shift. The young weasel smacks his lips, groggily stepping onto the road towards the towns tavern. It has been his custom to do so ever since Bandit went missing and promptly returned as a half eaten fox hide. The weasel's armor was starting to grow tight now due to his excess drinking and eating, leaving a sliver of fur exposed between his breast plate and belt.

Clarissa pops up right beside him, although in actuality she had been hiding beside the door for the past 3 hours. He may or may not have seen her. She leers at him and goes to throw an arm around his shoulders, chuckling. "Ahoy, ye deck-swabbin' land-lubber, where ye off to on this fine ev'nin'?" She smells strongly of alcohol, and shows all the signs of being drunk, including swigging at a tankard of what seems to be strongly scented grog, which spills down her shirt front.

In actuality, she is completely sober.

The black rat is dressed in the tawdry finery of a searat, with 3 brass hoops hanging from her ears. She seems to be off duty.

The weasel very nearly jumps out of his skin, reaching for the sword at his side. Quickly recognizing Clarissa as one of Blisa's body guards does little to calm his jumpy nerves. "I was about to grab dinner actually." Wesly says, taking the rat's paw and removing it from his shoulder slowly. "Yo-your one of Blisa's guards, aren't you? I've seen you around t-town." The weasel continues in a strait line for the tavern.

The black ratmaid goes to hold very tightly to the weasel's arm as she pretends to grin and stumble drunkenly. "Oh, aye, matey, that I am, that I am. Clarissa, former searat and owner of the some o' the only grog in town. Wanna sip? 'Tis good!" She goes to try and force the guard to drink some of what turns out to actually be grog in her tankard. She must've been spilling it all down her front and not actually drinking any. "When ye drink FireFlame Grog, ye don't need no dinner."

Before the weasel can complain he has grog going down his gullet. Stopping to cough the weasel tries to break away from his new found 'friend' "Blazes gal! I can see why! You'll burn a hole in your stomach with that spit shine!" Tasty, but nasty he thinks. The beast's drunken behavior is starting to get on his nerves. He is getting close to the tavern now, should he just make a break for it...

Clarissa smiles, then hiccups and wails in a very heartbroken manner, "Oh, if only Bandit 'ad drunk it 'nstead o' eatin' 'is way to 'is doom! Then dat nasty eagle wouldn't've eatten 'im! The poor bloke wot didn't deserve to be eatten!" She breaks into drunken sobs. She is an exceptional actress. If this whole bodyguard thing doesn't work out, she should really consider being a thespian.

The weasel stops in his tracks, half turning towards the rat. Eyes cast to the ground he sighs, "Yeah. No beast deserves such a fate. Gettin' eaten up by a bird...he...he might have deserved-" Catching himself the weasel shakes his head. "Don't cry. I'm...sure he didn't suffer...too bad. Being gutted and...and gobbled up and torn to pieces and..." Wesly clutches at his stomach, "You know, I will take some of that grog after all."

Clarissa produces a huge mug thing with a lid and passes it to the weasel. It is full to the brim with grog. "'Ere. To death an' doom!!" She pretends to take a huge drink of her grog, swirling her tattered purple silk cape to reveal that she has plenty more booze to share.

The Wesly raises an eyebrow then rolls his eyes. "Ok, maybe just one bottle..."

[They move to the tavern.....]

"Jusht one moar bottle. Why not, ri?" Grog seems to be good for the young guard. With alcohol flowing through his veins like water the weasel is much more fluid and even cracks a smiles once or twice. His head bobs back and forth as he laughs. There is an empty plate of food on the table before him. Taking up the back corner of the Ferraval tavern the weasel's presence goes mostly unnoticed among the other half drunk to fully drunk to twice drunk beasts that frequent the bar at this time.

"How many...how many we have had...have had-ening? Wot ever," the weasel hiccups. "How many them bottles we had ye old pirate?"

Clarissa has been slowly and steadily reducing the amount of booze she pretends to drink, and now that the weasel seems drunk enough to not notice, she has stopped 'drinking' it altogether and just focuses on keeping his mug filled. Faking a hiccup, she giggles. "Er, er, er, may'ap....er.....eleventy seven?" The waitresses know better than to interfere with whatever Blisa's bodyguards seem to be doing, and so the rat and the weasel have been left to their own devices. "Ain't no landlubber could make grog dish good, hey, hey, meshmate?"

The weasel chuckles, taking a swig of his own cup. "Bandit could. I swear, wot kind 'o name ish Bandit 'nyway? Just invites trouble. Terrible trouble...getting your bones picked clean by bird trouble." The weasel rests his head on the table then jerks it backward, waving his mug through the air, "Poor ol' fox. He could handle his drink tho'. Handle it real good. I swear he had it flowin' in his veins even on duty! He told me...told me once he was a sea beast. A rioght ol' sea dog he was...what en earth was he doin' here-in I dun know..."

Clarissa has been pretending to be dozing off, but then jerks her head up and stares stupidly at the weasel. "Uh seabesht? I ain't never done 'eard 'im say dat afore. Did....did ye *hic* say 'e wash drunk on duty?" She sniffs. "Pity wot 'appened to 'im, though. 'E.....'e seemed like sucha good beasht to ush bodyguardsh...'though, we ain't never hunged out wi' 'im too much, 'avin' to shtay at Cap'n Blisha's house all the time....."

"He wasn't a good beast! He deserved to die!" The mug comes back down onto the table, sending grog all over himself and the rat. The outburst was loud enough to draw the attention of the tavern. Slowly the weasel slides back into his chair, cradling his head in his paws. "He deserved to die..." He sobs softly.

"Everyone acts like Bandit was this...was this good beast...but e' wasn't. He was a drunkard n' a coward n' a glutton. I have to pretend though, pretend and smile and say how much oi' miss him. But I don't. He deserved every moment of pain that eagle brought him. I hope e' suffered."

The weasel begins to cry, "He got my brother killed."

Ah-ha. Clarissa smiles inwardly, but on the outside she starts crying, too, as the waitresses distract the other beasts from what's going on in the corner. "Dat'sh terrible!! What kind o' dark 'earted scoundrel -- 'ow'd 'e die? Y-ye don' needa pretend 'round me, young'un. Dat shtupid braggart...." she refills his mug with grog, ignoring how wet she is right now.

The weasel sniffles, wiping his muzzle on his coat sleeve. "Longfang. That rat of...rat of an ermine. No offense. First time we caught him, me brother was on patrol with Bandit. Longfang slashed open his belly. Ain't no way for a beast to die. My brother suffered before he...before he..." Wesly sobs for a long moment. His tone of voice however chances into something, darker. "But we had a plan. Markus, that sly ol' fox and the others. We had a plan. That fat old swift fox Bandit, he made a lot of guards mad. Lot of guards died on his watch and we was sick of it. But we had a plan...we had a..." The weasel let's his head fall onto the table with a loud crash. He begins to snore.

Clarissa glares at the sleeper's head for a few moments, then goes back into her drunken façade and starts slapping at his shoulder drunkenly. "'Ey. 'Ey. Oi, you, wake up. Den what 'appened? Wake up, 'twas jus' gettin' interestin'." A vixen comes over to the table and leaves a plate of blondies, winking slyly at the former searat. Why, it's Valerie, but she's so cleverly disguised that no one recognizes her. She goes back to where she had been just within hearing and continues to continue to polish the silver, which is her cover for taking shorthand notes of everything that Wesly says. Because Clarissa can't read or write.

The weasel, despite the urging to wake up remains stationary and snoring. Perhaps the poor beast has found himself with too much ale in his belly.

As if to add to the rat's problems the door opens to admit one red fox. The older, burly fox is still wearing his guards tunic after his shift ended. The fox steps in and peers around the room, as if searching for something, or someone. His eyes finally lock onto the drunken Wesly and he sighs, "Ah Wesly." The fox half walks, half limps towards the table. "Wesly, what have you gotten your sorry tail into no-" He pauses when he catches sight of the rat. "Clarissa, right? What in the devil are you doing here?"

Oh, shnap. Clarissa keeps up her charade of being drunk and chuckles, gesturing at the snoring weasel. "Ahoy, Markush! I wash off-duty and decided to get me a drinkin' buddy. Haharr, and did I ever find one, lemme tell you shomptin'! Wesly ain't no lightweight when it comes to drinkin'! 'Ere, set yersel' down an' 'ave some FireFlame grog, finest in the land!" She pours him some. Valerie hides her mild alarm and jots down what's happening as she polishes a huge bowl. Her disguise has made her look plain and frumpy, so hopefully the other fox won't notice her.

The fox almost casually pushes the rat away, disgust plain on his face. "I don't drink. And to be honest, neither should Wesly. Poor kid hasn't been right since Bandit fell from the sky. I'm only here cause someone reported one of my guards acting drunk and disorderly." Markus rubs his eyes, "Thank all that is holy he is at least off duty. Come on Wesly. You have made a fool of yerself enough for one night..." He moves to pick up the weasel.

Clarissa resists her knee-jerk reaction to whip out one of her knives from it's sheath on her baldrics and instead pretends to sip her grog. "Aye, well, somptimes we just gotta let loose. 'Specially ifins ye sleep inna houshe with a giant shnake, y'know?" She leans back and stares at him with her dark brown eyes, still keeping up her drunk façade. "Bandit fallin'.....'twas a fearsome sight, t'be shore. Nobeashts been in them's right mind shince he arrived back in dat way."

Valerie is still taking notes but looking like all she's doing is polishing a bowl.

"Yeah. No argument there." The fox slips his arm under the shoulder of the weasel, hoisting him up, "To be honest, it was probably a more merciful way for Bandit to go. Better it over quickly than dyeing from the effects of glut and over drinking. Nearly died that way once myself..." Hoisted to his feet Wesly's head casts back in a way only a weasel can, "Markush...ish that...ish that you?" The weasel stammers, "Twas a bad thing I did...twas a bad shthing..."

"Yes, yes that was. You should know better than to drink yourself into oblivion while still in a guard uniform." The fox passes the rat a wary glance, "And you should know better than to let a beast get to this point..." He hardly hides his accusation.

Clarissa laughs drunkenly. "'E seemed jittery. I thought he jusht needed shomeone to take 'is mind offin 'is troublesh. Worked, too. Me meshmate wash a shmilin', and he ain't been too shad shince.....um....." Valerie quickly 'drops' the bowl and, as she's bending down to pick it back up, slips the paper she was taking notes on into her tall boot. Standing up, she places the bowl on the table she's been sitting at and walks boldly over to where the others are. Making gestures and grunts, she pretends to be mute as she 'helps' the rat stand. Leaning heavily on her, Clarissa breaks out into a shanty, her voice hideously off-key.

"O haul away, mates, hauls away, hark 'ow the north wind wails. There's ice upon the ratlines, in the riggin' an' the sails!"

The fox does not respond to the song at first. He is too occupied with the vixen that walks past. He stares at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. The moment finally passes though and he shakes his head. "Wesly, you will be the death of me one day, I swear." He turns to give the rat one last glare. Muttering something about drunken sea rats the fox half drags, half pulls Wesly along. "Come along Wesly, we are going to go take a nice walk down to the river."

"Why we...why we goin ta the riva?"

"To sober you up a bit."

"But I don't like bein' sober..."

"I don't like draggin' your drunken tail out of taverns. So it all works out, you know how to swim right?"

"No...not really."

"/Perfect./" Markus scowls as he kicks the tavern door open, dragging the beast outside.

Valerie supports Clarissa as the rat continues to wail her shanty.

"When I were just a liddle snip, me mammy said t'me, don't be a corsair like yore pa, 'tis no good life at sea. O follow not the searat's ways, or ye'll be sure to end yore days, beneath the cold an' wintry waves, 'cos corsairs 'ave no graves!"

They only stop their whole charade once they get inside the Chieftain's house. Then the rat straightens herself, her eyes clear, and says, "Ahoy, Captain Ferdinand, Miss Blisa, but do I have somethin' to tell ye!"

Thanks for reading! And yes, I stole the song that Clarissa was singing from The Rogue Crew. It's the Redwall book I'm reading right now X3 Because I'm binge re-reading the Redwall books. Call me a bookaholic XD

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