Finding the Furball - part 1

--Tristan and Rosenade are in the clearing, camping out while looking for Clayton, the cat dibbun--

Tristan is sitting by the fire, a hot mug of coffee in his paws.

Rosenade is standing up as straight as she possibly could, staring off in the distance, as if looking for the dibbun.

Tristan nods to the grass beside him, "Unless you can see in the dark, you'd be better off resting, you'll need your energy for searching." he takes a sip of his coffee.

Rosenade looks back to the otter, and sighs, taking a seat. "Guess you're right. Can't blame the kid for running..."

Tristan shrugs, "If I was a dibbun, I'd run from Bloodclaw too," he chuckles lightly, "Course there was that one who went and sliced his tail off."

Rosenade snorts and smiles, looking at the fire. "Brave dibbun... He'd make a good Champion one day, if he didn't pull dirty tricks like that."

Tristan nods, "He's certainly brave," he pauses, "Or stupid. Sometimes they go paw in paw." he pours himself another mug of the black coffee and holds out the pot, offering her some.

Rosenade shakes her head a little bit at the offer, thinking. "I don't know... I don't really know if I'm brave or stupid, myself."

Tristan shrugs again and pops his neck, "Like I said, sometimes they're much the same," he gazes into the firelight, "Somebeast once said that bravery isn't not being afraid, it's doing what's right when you're scared out of your mind."

Rosenade shrugs a little bit, and smiles. "What do you think that'd make Flicktail then?"

Tristan grins slightly, "He's a special case, I'd suppose. He's brave because it's his job to defend the abbeybeasts," he chuckles, "Though he's not the sharpest tool in the shed."

Rosenade snorts again, and nods at that. "I'd agree with you there. I don't think that fox can tell a threat from his own tail." she replied, before taking a stick to poke the fire with idly. "Well, at least he protects everybeast."

Tristan nods, "He does his job, won't argue with that," he finishes his second mug and contemplates a third, but declines, cleaning the mug and placing it back in his pack.

Rosenade quirks a brow to the otter, smiling a little bit. "I could never drink coffee... It tends to have bad effects on me."

Tristan empties the pot of boiling water out nearby, "I guess it's just a habit I picked up travelling. Nothing better on a cold night than a steaming cup of coffee. Some beasts never like it."

Rosenade rubs the back of her head a little bit, grinning. "I more prefer a glass of ale myself..."

Tristan nods, "I'm not picky," he settles back down, his footpaws near the fire for warmth, "And your abbey's October ale's the best around, like most of your food."

Rosenade giggles a little bit, looking down at the fire with a hint of embarrassment. "Heh, I'm not the one to flatter about that. I'm quite new at Redwall too."

Tristan shrugs, "I've been quite a few places in my seasons, and Redwall's the only place I felt I would ever care to settle down." he shakes his head, "Though I don't plan on settling down for a few more seasons."

Rosenade nods softly at his statement, and lies back on the ground. "I know the feeling... I guess I just felt ready when I arrived."

Tristan taps his paw on his knee, "I've still got a few loose ends to wrap up before I finally decide to grow old and soft someplace."

Rosenade sits back up; apparently she couldn't make up her mind how she wanted to sit. "I just need to get word to a friend at Salamandastron on how things are going."

Tristan nods, looking up at the stars, before saying, rather bluntly, "I'm not quite done killing yet," he gives a low, grim chuckle, not meant to be evil sounding, but it does sound rather morbid. He realizes what he just said and looks over, "Er, it's a long story."

Rosenade quirks a brow at his question, glancing at him with an expression of bewilderment. Though the look went away with the comment that it was a long story. "Revenge?"

Tristan tilts his head, "You could say that..." he pauses and then admits with a slight sigh, "Yes. It's revenge, probably not worth my time finding and killing the last beast, but I'm still searching."

Rosenade rubs her head a little bit, frowning. "Usually, revenge doesn't fulfill anything... Except maybe making the killer feel better."

Tristan gives a half smile, "Isn't that the point though? Revenge makes me feel like my parents deaths are paid for." he draws the dirks from their sheathes at his sides, firelight glinting off the blades, "Where do you think I got these?"

Rosenade quirks a brow as he drew his weapons, and tilts her head. "I'm going to wager a disturbing guess, and guess 'Out of your parents' corpses'." she replied.

Tristan shakes his head with a frown, "Nothing as morbid as that. These belonged to the leader of the vermin band that killed my parents, before he slipped and drowned." he grins just slightly to himself, not really noticing it.

Rosenade quirks a brow, noticing the slight grin. She didn't reply though; just pulled her own dagger out of her habit pocket. "Guess we've both got weapons from some point of our past."

Tristan looks towards her dagger, "Most beasts that go unarmed get hurt," he tries to move the topic from his personal vendetta, hoping she doesn't think he's some type of psychopath.

Rosenade smiles sheepishly. "I was a bit crazy when I took it... Tried to kill my own father with it." she said, frowning. "I doubt he'll ever forgive me..."

Tristan looks towards his footpaws, "I can't judge I suppose, but I'd not be too happy if you tried to kill me."

Rosenade shakes her head a bit. "I wouldn't try though. I'm not nuts, in the mood to die, or willing to harm a good beast."

Tristan shrugs, "Most would think I'm nuts for hunting my parent's killers for so many seasons. Everybeast loses it for a while."

Rosenade shakes her head some more, though she smiled sadly. "Well... Maybe they're already dead."

Tristan shakes his head firmly, "There's only one left, and maybe he's dead, maybe he's just in hiding, I'm not sure, my memories are fuzzy."

Rosenade shrugs a little bit, and yawns lightly. "Who knows? I sure don't... I don't know any of the vermin I've killed."

Tristan nods, "I'll find him, someday." he blinks, he's quite tired himself. "Probably a foolish use of my life, but it's how I use it." he lets his head fall slightly, his hood overshadowing his face.

Rosenade frowns a little bit - now would be a good topic change... "Do you think we'll ever find the dibbun?"

Tristan nods, not raising his head, the answer coming from deep in the hood, "There's only so many places a beast can hide in Mossflower. It may take all season, but we'll get him back to his father."

Rosenade shivers a bit. "And then we can get him the @#!*% out of the abbey." she says, irritated. "That's one rude feline I hope I never deal with again."

Tristan nods once again, "He's certainly an ill mannered beast. If I was in charge he'd be lucky to get the help he got."

Rosenade rubs her head. "Faster we find his son, the faster we can get him out and only see him again underneath blades..."

Tristan chuckles a bit, "Flick probably wouldn't approve of leaving his dibbun without a father, even if he had his blade at our throats."

Rosenade snorts and sighs. "Flicktail was a @#!*% idiot, ignoring him threatening us."

Tristan pauses for a second; perhaps hesitant to question his friend Flick, but then again, Flick was not his master, "Flick his moments of brilliance, like the plan with the moles, and his moments of foolishness, like with that cat."

Rosenade huffs, and shakes her head. "If he makes another bad move like that, I swear I'll camp in a clearing for a month!"

Tristan chuckles again, "Not half bad I suppose," he leans back, gazing up at the night sky, "Can't see the stars from in there."

Rosenade looks up at the sky and quirks a brow. "You sure it's not just cloudy?"

Tristan shrugs, "Maybe." he looks back down, scratching his footpaw, "I guess we all make mistakes, even the abbey champion."

Rosenade nods gently, and props her head on her paws. "Some more... tragic than others..."

Tristan nods, "I wouldn't trust that cat with a butter knife, I'm glad he's being guarded."

Rosenade rubs her head a little bit. "Wouldn't trust him with his bare paws... Remember, they have claws..."

Tristan winces just slightly, though the movement is hard to see with his hood up, "Forgot about that little detail." he scratches his chin.

Rosenade shivers a little bit. "And they're supposed to be predatory to mice like me..."

Tristan grins, "Now that you mention it, I don't think Remi likes cats either."

Rosenade tilts her head curiously. "Remi?"

Tristan nods, "That mouse with the cards, maybe you haven't met him yet. My advice, stay away, he seems shifty. Pike thinks he may have tried to sell out the abbey to Bloodclaw, but I don't have the proof I need to accuse him."

Rosenade rubs her head, frowning. "Oh, I met him. Never got his name though." she replied, smiling a little bit. "He was showing Euna and Flicktail some card tricks."

Tristan nods again, "That would be the mouse. Don't mention the last part until I'm able to prove it. Just keep an eye on him and don't trust him."

Rosenade nods softly, and sighs a bit. "If we don't get attacked and killed while out here, that is." she commented.

Tristan pats her shoulder, "That's not going to happen, Rosenade," he gesture to the longbow and full quiver of arrows within easy reach of his paw.

Rosenade smiles sheepishly, glancing to said equipment. "Oh. Good point."

Tristan shakes his head, "I pity the fool who decides to attack us."

Rosenade nods softly, and lies back, smiling. "What about that... one fox?"

Tristan raises an eyebrow, "Which one? So far I've only had reason to shoot at rats and the occasional wildcat."

Rosenade smiles weakly. "That... fox. I've heard some people talk about... Some fox named Anba or something."

Tristan scratches his chin, "I think I've heard the name, Anba Hor?" he shrugs, "I've not heard much about him. But I doubt he's lurking in Mossflower."

Rosenade shrugs a little bit, and looks up at the sky. "That's probably the one. And who knows? I hope I never meet him."

Tristan taps the hilt of his dirk softly, "I'm more worried about the enemies I know are around, not the ones I've hardly heard of."

Rosenade tilts her head. "Do you actually have enemies in Mossflower?"

Tristan shrugs, "None that I know of, and I'd prefer to keep it that way, but there's always the odd bandit, or the remnants of Bloodclaw's band."

Rosenade sighs with relief at that, and closes her eyes. "I hope we don't have to worry about anybeast then."

Tristan leans back, "Most likely, we'll find this dibbun in a day or so, and be back in warm Redwall beds sooner than latter. Doubt there's much danger involved."

Rosenade shivers a little bit at the mention of warm beds. The thought of being out in the cold smacked her hard. "Hope not."

In the shadows just inside the tree line lurks three rats, skinny, and armed with an odd assortment of rusty knifes, clubs, and old spears.

Rosenade glances over to the otter. "You know something though? Duking it out isn't terribly bad."

One rat, seemingly the leader, steps forward, "'Ello, me pretties. Drop yer weapons an' hand over yer valuables." his cronies step out from behind him.

Tristan growls low at the sight of the rats, moving his paw fractionally closer to the bow, witch is slightly concealed in the grass, "And if we don't want to hand over our things?"

Rosenade squeaks in surprise, looking to the rats with a nervous frown. "Oh great... Just what we needed - an unfortunate case of deus ex machina..."

The lead rat frowns at the mousemaid, stepping closer, brandishing a club, "Wot was that, me dear?" his breath smells rancid and his teeth look terrible. Another rat steps towards the otter and points a spear at him, "Throw them dirks on tha ground,"

Rosenade folds her arms, nervously getting up. "Nothing you'd comprehend..." she muttered, paw straying for her pocket.

Tristan slowly unbuckles his belt and tosses the dirks to one side, his other paw mere inches from the bow.

Rosenade blinks, looking over to Tristan. "You're giving up?" she asked; she had a feeling she knew what he was up to.

The lead rat, who has a red bandanna on his head, treads on her paw somewhat heavily, "Let's no' get any ideas, eh?" he reaches down and touches her cheek with a grimy paw, "Too bad yer so feisty, yer quite a purdy little mousey." The rat with the spear pokes Tristan with the butt, spitting on the otter's hood, "He knows what's good fer 'im." The third rat is standing watching, a rusty knife in one paw.

Tristan wipes the spit from his hood with a look of contempt. This rat would die first. He looks over at the mouse, giving an almost unnoticeable shake of his head, in case she hadn't caught on.

Rosenade winces, almost crying out in pain upon feeling her paw get stepped on. She seemed like she would have bitten the blood out of the rat, had she not hoped Tristan had some form of idea... "Oh no... I'm n-not being a rat's p-plaything AGAIN..." she said, almost sounding genuinely scared... Luckily, she caught the shake, and kept things up - half-realistically.

Red bandanna laughs stupidly, "I think ye'll do watever we want, dearie." he looks over at the otter, "Search 'im." he says. The rat moves to search him. The third rat still stands in the back. He seems to be the youngest of the group.

Tristan watches Red Bandanna closely, seemingly ignoring the others. His paw closes on his longbow, but he does not act yet.

Rosenade whimpers softly, and closes her eyes. "I don't... I won't..." she stuttered. Was Tristan going to make his move soon? She certainly hoped he knew what he was doing.

Red Bandanna puts a firm paw on her shoulder, and starts to push her backwards. He leans down close to her ear, and is about to say something when a black feathered arrow buries itself in his forehead, spraying Rosenade with a red mist. The second rat recovers quickly and hits Tristan with his spear. The third yelps at Red Bandanna's sudden death and starts to back away.

Tristan battles with unconsciousness as the spear haft connects with his skull. He is knocked aside, one arm nearly landing in the fire, momentarily stunned.

Rosenade closes her eyes, whimpering in a downright terrified manner - though she cried out in shock at suddenly being bathed in blood. Slightly. And now she was quite stuck... So she pulled her dagger out of her pocket as good as she could, glancing to Tristan. " @#!*% ... @#!*% it... Wake up!"

The second rat lifts his spear for a downward thrust at the mouse, and the third stands, unsure.

Tristan struggles to rise, his head too blurry to try for another shot at the moment.

Rosenade closes her eyes even tighter, and struggles to get out of under the dead rat, not quite in the mood to die...

The second rat is clumsy and misses his thrust, now struggling to get the spear out of the dirt. The third is still unsure of what he should be doing, and nearly drops a knife on his own toe.

Tristan gets to his knees, fumbling to nock another arrow to the string.

Rosenade swallows nervously, and strains. In a burst of adrenaline, she threw the dead rat off of herself, and drew her dagger, glaring at the rat. "Either you run now and tell all your rat buddies to not mess with us again, or you end up like the pervert rat!"

The rat manages to get his spear out of the ground, and chuckles lightly, swinging it at her like a bat, while the third rat slowly backs towards the trees.

Tristan is having trouble aiming, still aware enough to know not to hit the mouse.

Rosenade wasn't as spry as she used to be, and thus, she did take a few hits. But she drew her dagger, and as quick as she could, thrust it forward blindly, hoping to hit home.

The chuckling rat suddenly stops as the dagger pierces his chest. He falls without a sound. The third rat flees as Tristan's misaimed arrow pierces his calf.

Tristan rises to his feet walking unsteadily over to Rosenade. "You alright?" his head is still spinning.

Rosenade yanks her dagger out, shuddering. "Rest in peace..." she muttered, before glancing over to Tristan. "I'm as alright as I'll get... If you'd not been out here, I'd probably be in a rather unfavorable position, Tristan."

Tristan nods slowly, "Well, things seemed to have worked out well," he wipes a little bit of blood from her face and reaches for a canteen, tossing it to her, "Clean up a bit."