Hactor's Close Call
Characters: Amethyst, Hactor, Kevarr, Sinway, Skipper, Treaglo... and Unknown!
RW Abbey: Great Hall
The Great Hall of Redwall Abbey. Countless paw falls have echoed from these stones, and untold numbers of feasts and merry gatherings have been held here. A table, not nearly so grand or large as its predecessors, but quite functional for mealtimes, rests near the center of the hall. Chairs exist here aplenty, and they are all of a matching set. High above, the stain glass windows give the Great Hall a beautiful appearance. The glasswork is exceptionally done, crafted by a skilled artist. The floor is clean and swept. A fire is kept burning in the fireplace at almost all times of the day and night, and there are several more comfortable chairs and cushions set up here, of varying sizes. One looks large enough to easily accommodate a badger.
The Tapestry hangs proud and tall, and while the rest of Redwall may still bear the scars of natural disaster, this most famous of Redwall's relics remains unharmed by beast, time, or the elements. The figure of Martin the Warrior seems to be watching over his own with an unchanging, kindly gaze.
Exits/Entrances:
[K]itchen [St]airs [C]avern [H]ole
[Li]brary [En]try [B]reezeway
Amethyst comes from the kitchen with a cup of mint tea in one paw and her staff in the other. Her lute still hangs around her neck. Wasn't she heading for the infirmary last? Well now she's heading into Great Hall. And if any of the Redwall healers have a problem with it they can go ahead and complain cause she's not up there to hear them.
Treaglo walks into the hall, from...well, nowhere in particular. She is glancing around, still trying not to attract attention from any vermin. She sees AMethyst and shuffles over without greeting, but stands in front of her. Her eyes look unsure.
Skipper is just coming in from outside. He runs a paw back through the still-damp space between his ears, picking out Amethyst as she too enters the Great Hall. "Ahoy again, marm," Skip calls, noticing the squirrel's approach too. "And evening to ya, also."
Amethyst is now sitting and sipping her tea. She pokes at Treaglo with her staff, "Sit down, Treeglow. You make a better door than a window." The otter gets a glance if you call a slight head turn a glance. "Hello, otter. Thought you'd drowned yourself out there you'd gotten so quiet."
Treaglo blinks and looks to the otter, and smiles warmly. "'Ello." She glances to Amethyst also in reply, as if she could see. "And hello to you too, Amethyst." She takes a seat and eyes the otter again. "So, what's your name? I'm Treaglo Wooderfirr..." Her eyebrows raise in question.
Skipper casually closes the distance, since hollering across the vast hall is a chore in itself. He hitches a brow, before offering a good-natured explanation: "Sorry. Got lost in my thoughts again." The squirrel gets a glance, then a grin. "Ya can call me Skip. Both of ya can, really."
Amethyst aims another poke at the squirrel. "Don't call me that name please." When the otter finally gets around to introducing himself she smirks, "Lucky us. Lost in your thoughts you say? Amazing that you found you're way back out." She's missed having an otter to mess with.
Treaglo smirks good-naturedly at the ratwife. "Ok, sorry, /Bluefin/. She winks at Skipper. "So, you came t'Redwall to save us, I s'ppose?"
Skipper opens his mouth in instinctive defense, to snark back. But his jaws clap shut, the otter instead giving Amethyst a squinty-eyed look. Which she can't appreciate, alas. "Huh, me? Of course not," Skip answers Treaglo. "Little ol' me couldn't do that all by my lonesome."
"That's why most bring armies with them, Skippy," the rat says her ears moving about listening for anybeast that may be there other than the squirrel and otter. "Now if you were going to do something like that how many beasts would you need I wonder?"
Treaglo listens to Amethyst with interest. "Pro'lly a lot, I'm guessing," she comments, then her attention is back on SKipper expectantly.
"Skip," the otter corrects, shooting the rat a look. Not that he seems overly bothered, shrugging one shoulder. "Can't say. On record, I'm just a simple Redwaller who spends too much time in the library. Been here since the invasion, ya know. But off the record.. Well. If twoscore otters just happened to follow me north, that ain't my doing. Total coincidence."
Amethyst nods, "Of course would have t be some other skipper of otters. Of course this is all hypothetical as /no one/ could really defeat such generals as Hactor has." That's sarcasm if you can't tell. "While you were lost in thought did you find a way to kill a ghost perhaps?"
Treaglo gazes at the wall, picturing the faces of those...generals. She shudders and smirks at the same time. "That ghost...wait, are you being sarcastic again?" She furrows her eyebrows in slight confusion for the moment, while her voice is lowered.
Skipper also nods, playing right along. "Another Skipper, surely. One bigger and tougher than me. Probably not as handsome though." He makes a show of smoothing his whiskers before continuing. "Yer ghost? Same as this Hactor fellow. I'd have to meet 'em before I was certain they were unkillable. Frankly, I ain't convinced."
Skipper adds, pointing up at the broken stained glass window above. "Now this Abbey Ghost? Unkillable, m'sure of it."
Amethyst blinks and tilts her head at Treaglo, "There's more than one ghost around here is all. Some less welcome than others." To the otter she shakes her head, "Who Martin? He's already dead. Can't kill a mouse that's already dead. And of all the things I've heard of him doing coming back from the dead, like certain other ghosts, wasn't among them."
"Wha...? Wait, more ghosts? Whaddaya mean?" She stares hard at Amethyst, trying to understand, then her eyes follow Skipper's paw point to the high window. She says nothing but looks Skipper in the eyes and raises her eyebrows in questioning disbelief.
Skipper gruffs. "Then yer ghost ain't no ghost. He's just slippery. And ain't nothing too slippery for an otter."
Treaglo squints back and forth from the rat to the otter. She frowns and scratches her head. "Slippery? Goodness, I'm lost. Maybe I don't wanna know."
"Oh, well he nearly killed an otter and there's one or two what would like to see him dead. Though the one would agree with you I think even though th 'ghost' slipped through his claw already." She pats Treaglow's arm, "One of our fox gernals has a bad habit of not staying dead when he's killed. I'd hopped Skippy here could help fix it that little problem since the Abbey failed to when they had the chance."
Skipper begins to correct the rat again on the name thing, but thinks better of it. Doesn't want to veer off the subject, after all. "I can only do my best, marm. Which I'd like to think is pretty damn good," Skip comments. "White eyes, ya say? Shouldn't be hard to miss."
Amethyst nods, "And black fur though the eyes he never bothered to disguise before. Not that he'd have much reason to be in disguise now."
Treaglo quirks an eyebrow, but then looks down in thought. "Well I'd prefer not to mingle with, uh, ghosts. There's a lot more t'this situation than I thought..."
Skipper scratches the side of his muzzle, considering. "We'll see what happens, I suppose." He casts a look at the squirrel. "Yer telling me. All this talk of ghosts makes my head hurt."
"What would you rather talk about?" Amy asks taking a sip from her all but forgotten tea.
Treaglo shrugs and glances about for inspiration. She suddenly appears to remember something and turns her head towards Amethyst. "My instrument was broken in battle...I thought maybe 'cause you play...you'd know how t'fix it? P'raps?" Her eyes widen.
"You should take better care of your things. .... Did you kill somebeast with it or did it just get broken?" She doesn't say she can fix it. She may be able too but it depend how broken it is. It's not like she make interments for a living or anything.
Skipper is fresh out of inspired confidence. He lapses into thoughtfulness, only swinging his attention between the squirrel and the rat after Treaglo so smoothly finds a new subject. Instruments?
Treaglo looks to the ceiling with mock-innocence. "'Course I didn't kill anyone with it, it just...broke, I dunno how. But I can't seem to find out what exactly to put back together. Plus I can't find the right wood." She sighs distractedly and shrugs again. "It's special t'me."
Amethyst nods, "Yes well I'm not much of a wood carver as you could guess but I heard once that the Abbot if he's still here someplace played th lute and had done a good deal of exploring so likely he'd know how t fix it if anyone would." She doesn't meantion he used to be a healer makes it sound like she's coppying him. Crazy coquidence is all it is.
Treaglo narrows her eyes at the wall, thinking again. "Y'know, I don't think I've really met the Abbot yet, strange..."
Sinway walks down the stairs into the great hall, looking as if he just woke up, Sinway makes his way to one of the tables giving off a yawn as he tries to wake up, eyes still half closed
Hactor enters the hall, followed by a mouse nurse and two pretty vixens. He takes a seat in the abott's chair and listens as the mouse maid tell's him about his current health, and medicines etc.
Skipper flicks an ear. He's only just met the Abbot the other night, but Skip doesn't contribute to the conversation. His eyes have drifted, over to the entering fox. And his entourage. Those eyes narrow to slits, focused and openly staring.
Amethyst's ears tilt forward as the otter enters and more when a group of beast enter later.
Hactor nods as the maid finishes talking and glances over to one of the vixens, stroking her chin. She giggles as the other vixen glares at her. Hactor then catches Skipper's glaring and says, "Is there a problem otter?"
Treaglo eyes Hactor supiciously, glancing at the vixens by his side and making an annoyed face. She also notices the otter and smiles to him as enters. She then turns her attention back to the fox and nods to the question, though she's not even addressed. *squinty eyes*
Amethyst knows Hactor's voice. "Ah, feeling better sir?" she asks hoping he wont be wondering why she isn't up in the infirmary right now. Sinway would probably get a greeting if she could see him but she can't so he doesn't.
Skipper just stares. But steadily that frown mellows, to better match the otter's very casual reply. "Oh nothing. Just wondering when yer leaving. That, and whether or not you'll be dead when ya do."
Sinway is still half asleep and isn't really aware of any other beast around, the otter gives a large open yawn that fills the room, before looking around for any remnants of dinner
Hactor laughs his harsh bark of a laugh and replies just as casualy, "Oh beleive me my friend. If I were you I'de be more worried about what my vermin will do without me to keep them in check." He appeared pleasent but his good eye glented with hate. He sudennly takes on a gentalmanley air replieng to Amey, "Aye much better. Thank you."
Amethyst scowls at Skipper. While she too wants the hoarde gone picking a fight right now doesn't strike her as the best of ideas.
Skipper isn't ruffled by the fox's laughter -- whose answer just confirms the otter's suspicions. Definitely the 'Hactor' fellow. "Don't worry 'bout yer little horde. They'll also be seen politely out the door," Skip assures dryly, scratching an ear. "Just don't know if they'll be alive either. Hard to say, ya know?"
Treaglo beckons Sinway over and points to a plate on the table. She listens intently to Hactor and Skipper's words, smiling slightly at Skipper's reply. She smirks quietly at Hactor.
Sinway notices the squirrel and nods "thank ye marm." he says politely then makes his way to the plate only now noticing the other beast "well if it isn't hactor, hows it going mate, haven't found any dead fox types on the wall lately have ye?" he asks with a giggle
Once again for Amy it has been confirmed that all otters are stupid. How could she have forgotten that?!
Hactor glances wearily at Sinway and replies, "No. And beleive me it is no ghost. I challenged the so called spector myself and nothing happened."
Somewhere upstairs, a door slams loudly.
Skipper isn't necessarily chasing down a fight. Not at the present, anyway. He keeps up the cavalier demeanor, commenting, "That's because Martin ain't scared of ya, fox. And neither are we." The slamming door causes the otter's ears to prick. ".. Here we go again," Skip adds in a mutter.
Sinway giggles again and takes a sip of something he guessed was rum, then the door slams which gets his attention "psh being all loud and interrupting a mates dinner, how rude." the otter sighs "beast these days, just no respect eh hactor?"
"Door slamming?" Amy asking acting surprised, "Is that what was causing all the upset before?"
Hactor's ears flatten at the slamming for a moment. He chooses to ignore Skipper's insolence at the moment and replies to Sinway, "Aye. I think I've been more than civil with the Abbey and no respect. I could have meade evryone slaves, or second class citezens but I havn't."
Creeeak.
Skipper's attention divides now, for the moment not pressing Hactor further. His eyes sweep the hall's exits, taking a subtle step backwards towards one of the walls. "Began this way."
Amethyst takes another sip of tea. "And then what happen?" she asks the otter sounding bored. Creaking and door slamming don't seem to bother her too much.
Hactor doesn't notice the creaking, assumong it's just the wind. He leans back and watches the vixens go grinning.
There's a strange, low moan that nevertheless seems to echo off the Abbey's stonework. It's almost immediately followed by a rattling raspy breath that sounds far too close for comfort, even though there's no beast visible that seems to be making the sound.
Skipper is not spooked, just keyed in. His back once again flush with the wall, Skip answers Amethyst without looking her way -- but only after the creepy moan. "Be patient, you'll see soon enough.."
Hactor is about to speek when he hears the raspy breathing. His eye narrows and his paw goes to his sword hilt. He says in anger, "Well, if your Martin is so powerfull why doesn't he end me now eh?"
Amethyst smirks, "Now that would be something. And I hear he prefers t have others do that for im. Course those are just old stories."
Skipper shrugs, certain that the.. ghost isn't through. "Ya give me my javelin back, I'd take ya up on the offer, fox."
Hactor barks another laugh and replies, "Dibbun, I'm 30seasons old. I've been killing since before you were conseaved." He chuckled again then continued, "If you want to kill me go on ahead. But I /want/ make it easy for you."
As if in response, there's a heavy WHUMPF from the fireplace, and every bit of flame abruptly vanishes, plunging Great Hall into darkness lit only by the moonlight streaming through the high stained glass windows. One of these, of course, is still newly broken, and the jagged glass edges catch and reflect the light as well.
Skipper just scratches that same ear again, unbothered. He's not thirty seasons, but the Skipper is hardly a Dibbun. He's well into maturity. "Empty boasting, boyo. Yer too slow, and don't think I've missed yer limp -- " The sudden darkness silences Skip mid-thought, causing the otter's ears to splay. Hnn.
"Well that's a neat trick ..." Amy comment sounding a little nervious. She doesn't really mind the dark but sudden dark is a little off putting. She closes her eyes and takes up her staff to try to move over to the kitchens. Seems that would be a safe place to be. Also she's split her tea better remedy that.
Hactor slowly unsheaths his sword and chuckles, "Well Martin you'll have to do better than that! I'm not exactley afraid of the dark." He was very amused now at the abbey beasts attempts to covince him of there ghost's existence.
A shadow crosses one of those upper stained glass windows, throwing other shadows over the floor. Whatever it is, the moonlight frames it for several seconds before it seems to step off the window ledge and vanish from immediate sight.
Skipper doesn't savor the ringing sound of Hactor's sword being drawn. But the otter stays put, knowing his back as guarded -- even as the shadow dances, causing the moonlight to flicker. His eyes adjusting to the low lighting, Skip stares down Hactor. "Keep talkin', fox.."
Hactor grins and narrows his eye replieng, "Oh I shall. Besides I know it just some rebelious woodlander causing all this disorder." He chuckles once more, "And when I find em, I'll skin em and hang his carcass at the gate. To warn any other would be rebels!"
Two tiny, pulsing pinpricks of light appear near the far wall. They are close together, like eyes, but unlike eyes they don't seem limited to stay in exactly the same distance to each other at any one time, and their pulsing is separate from each other, sometimes very bright, sometimes not visible at all. They drift in the general direction of Hactor and the other beasts.
Skipper can't help rolling his eyes. There's a flare of wry amusement in Skip's voice, tickled rather than intimidated by Hactor's posturing. "You'll eat those words, boyo.." He doesn't notice the glowing eyes immediately. But when Skipper does, well. He shuts up.
Hactor noticing the two 'eyes' point his sword at them and hisses, "Who ever you are reveal yourself!" He had a feeling that this would happen. An assasin had come to pick a fight in the dark. Well Hactor was ready for him.
The two lights drift closer. As they cross into a beam of moonlight, their source becomes startlingly apparent. It's a beast of some sort, tall for a mouse if it is one, but it's all hooded and cloaked in black, barely visible even in the light. It doesn't seem to have any face at all, just those two unevenly pulsing eyes. In one paw, as black and shadowed as the rest of it, the thing lifts what would appear, by the shape at least, to be a sword. No light reflects off of what should be the blade, even when the creature points it right at Hactor.
Hactor steps back a bit unsettled by the shadow. He grits his fangs reminding himself it's no shadow, just a mouse of flesh and blood. He lunges at it slicing down with his blade.
Skipper's eyes drag back and forth between the 'ghost' and Hactor, only able to make out so much. When the apparition forms in the moonlight, Skipper's boot nudges a nearby stool. Convenient. He grunts, slowly reaching out to grip the stool's leg. Straightening, the otter feels somewhat better prepared with the wooden stool as a makeshift shield -- even as Hactor lunges for the ghost.
The shadow steps to one side, as if it were reacting to the lunge...and then it suddenly appears to simply vanish! Not even those strange pulsing light-eyes are visible. Hactor's sword swishes through nothing but air.
( A loud clang ehoes through the hall as Hactor's blade collides with the floor. He looks uo quickly, stratled by the beasts vanishment. He grits his teath then roars, "Clever vanishing act! But so help me if I find you you'll be vanished for good!" He glares over to a gaurd who was shaking with fear and spits, "Well? Light some candles you idiot!" The gaurd quickly obeyed. )
Skipper did and didn't foresee that. He's well on-board with the ghost idea -- but vanishing? His breath hitches in his throat, claws curling around the leg of that wooden stool. "-If- ya find him, ya old foxbutt," Skip echoes. So helpful.
As candlelight begins to throw definition over Great Hall again, it becomes clear that there's no sign of the ghost, whether it be spirit or flesh and blood, anywhere. No sign but one, anyway. As the guard lights candles, a hunched figure near the stairs to Cavern Hole that wasn't there before becomes visible. It's not moving.
Hactor growls and picks up a chair and hurls it at the wall in rage. It shatters into peaces as he roars to a few gaurds, "I want the gaurd double- no trippled! No one is to get in or out!" He catches sight of the hunche figure and yells, "Who goes there?"
The figure doesn't respond, doesn't so much as twitch. A brown cloak is covering it, or possibly a blanket.
Skipper's eyes are in motion again, though this time they're skipping over Hactor. They catch the hunched figure, and his instincts scream one thing. Another dead body. So with Hactor's attention there, Skip takes advantage of the confusion. Hefting the stool, Skip whirls on a poor, shaking guard who's too transfixed to see it coming. The stool smashes into the guard's face, shattering in Skipper's paws. But it knocks the guard back against the wall. In the same breath, the otter swiftly relieves him of his sword. There, much better.
Hactor is about to go see who or what the figure is when he hears the sudden camossion behind him. He turns and raises his sword saying softly, "Well well well. It would seem you're going to get your chance after all." But while he was saying this he twitched his tail which was a signal for the other gaurds to step in.
Skipper doesn't back down. He fixes the warlord with a dark look. "There's a -ghost- in here. I ain't taking any chances." His periphery is acute, and the otter recognizes the next-nearest guard's step forward. Without looking, Skip extends the sword with a snapping motion -- pointing it at the guard's throat. "Why don't ya see what Martin left for ya, foxbutt?"
Hactor glares at the otter for a moment then desides he's no emediate threat. He turns and strides torwards the figure. He then removes the blanket with a flourish.
( A female ferret, her eyes partially open, jaw clenched tightly, topples right over and down one stair. The body is very stiff, and there's no sign of blood or any marks that would explain why she was dead. )
Skipper's jaw sets. He's not letting his own guard down, no no. Not even with Hactor successfully diverted. But since the guards aren't advancing further, Skip calls after the fox. "Is it a nice present? Is it everything ya wanted?"
Hactor sighs a deep breath and turns to skipper repling bitterly, "Well I'll be sure that the Abbey will know not to underestimate my kindness again." He thinks for a moment then replies, "Perhaps after a few of you are hanged publicly, you'll know to apreciate my kindness more." He then nodded to the gaurd who began to quickly advance on Skipper hoping to catch him alive.
Skipper stares Hactor down, the picture of obstinence. He's not impressed, and he sounds it: "For every Redwaller ya touch, ten of yers will pay. Ya have my word, fox." To be fair, Skip is no spring chicken with a sword. He didn't become the Skipper down in Southsward for his hotroot soup recipe. He steps back cleanly, turning on the charging soldier. Using his heavy rudder for leverage, the otter pushes into a feint, bringing the sword across in an arc one way and then the other. The blade either forces the guard to pull back, or catches the vermin across the upper arm. His sword-arm.
The gaurd quickly pulls back and gives Hactor and exasperated look. The olf ferret moans, "Sar I kent get em when e's go tha sward."
Hactor sighs and sheaths his own sword, not feeling up for a fight tonight. He glances at the gaurd then points to the body saying, "Fine. Then burry this one." He fold his arms and looks to Skipper. After a long silnce he asks alomst in a tone of respect, "What be yer name otter?"
There's a sudden scream from one of the guards at the back, one of the ones that were showing some reluctance to actually go after Skipper. In a blink, he's seemingly been pulled straight up into the air by nothing at all, kicking and flailing the whole while as he crosses beyond the reach of the candlelight and vanishes into the gloom above Great Hall. While not visible, his screams continue to be heard.
Skipper plays cute, offering: "I could drop the sword. Doubt you'd be able to get me even then." Of course, Skip's not about to do that. The otter remains at-ready, even when Hactor sheaths his weapon. Skipper does not. "Skipper. Ya would do well to fear -- " And there goes the guard! Skip's eyes snap up to the darkened ceiling above, but then just as quickly back down to Hactor. He's not taking any chances.
Hactor looks up as the gaurd is pulled into the gloom. The fox is begining to question his sanity. He mumbles as his eye goes wide, "How in the name of Zorr?"
Over the distant screams of the guard, a sudden voice seems to echo from every wall and stone. "Doom! Doom comes to those who defile Redwall!" As the echoes start to fade, the guard's screams suddenly heighten...the reason for that becomes plain when the unfortunate beast abruptly seems to rediscover gravity. He reappears, flailing wildly, just before he impacts the floor. CRUNCH.
Skipper points out grimly, "His name's Martin. Not Zorr." Aware of the fox's deity or not, Skip is certain this is the doing of a woodlander's protective spirit. The cries of doom silence Skipper's smart mouth. Reflexively, the otter pulls the sword across his body to shield from the falling body's nearby impact. Ugh, not again..
Hactor steps back at the mess and can't beleave his ears, nor his eye. He suddenly feels a sharp pain in his side and begins to cough hard. He falls to the ground, in a knealing position, using his paw for support against the stone floor.
Skipper's eyes snap to Hactor. Opportunity, so.. tempting. In a bounding flash, the otter closes in -- hoping that the sudden and horrifying death of one of their comrades will freeze the guards in their tracks. He doesn't attack Hactor. In fact, Skip skids to a stop just outside the fox's own range. But his sword is leveled on the fallen, coughing warlord. "I'd stay put, foxbutt. Maybe if yer lucky, me standin' so close will keep Martin from killin' ya next."
Hactor still coughing replies, "You..basterd..I'll..." But his word were lost in more violent coughs. The gaurds after seeing their friend fall to his demise fled the hall. Forget that ancient fox. They feared that something evenmore ancient and terrible would await them if they stayed.
Skipper isn't the kind to take pleasure in this small victory. It isn't even completely his, he was just quick enough to act on it. His jaws clench, a humorless near-grin tugging on the otter's muzzle. He's no murderer, but he's no fool either. "Just you, me, and Martin. So why don't we talk terms, huh?" He extends the sword inches further, connecting the tip with Hactor's shoulder. He pushes, applying force enough to draw blood through the fox's robes.
Hactor pushes with his paw and tries to balance on his knees away from the sword tip. All he acomplishes is falling on his back. He no longer appears as a triumphant king, but a weak, old beast who is beyond his years. He looks pleadinglywith his good eye and says taking shallow breaths, "What if I..say no?"
Skipper's expression clouds further. He's frowning -- the sight of Hactor's crumbling isn't an easy one to stomach. The otter presses, keeping the sword pointed down on the fox. He dips into a half-crouch, reaching out with his free paw to smoothly pull Hactor's sword from its sheath if possible. The presence of his own weapon better guarantees this, ready to strike should Hactor struggle. "Be reasonable. I think you'd rather live than deny me, no?"
Hactor gives Skipper a quizical look then replies mysteriously, "For now." He coughs harshly a few times into his cloak, and blood appears on it. He ignores it and continues staring at Skipper.
Skipper relieves Hactor of his primary weapon -- not about to search the fox for hidden daggers. But with two swords now, Skip feels much better about things. He levels the both on the fallen fox. "First, no more fightin' ring. It's gone -- the fence, the weapons. Ya don't train on the grounds anymore. No more games."
Hactor chuckles hoarsly and replies, "You think /I/ organized that? Some woodlaners and vermin did. Besides I'm, not forcing anyone to fight. As for training on the grounds, that's gone." He coughed a few mor times into his cloak, making a larger stain.
Skipper's frown deepens. "Do I look like I care who came up with the idea? Ya have the authority to call it off. Ya can order yer vermin to dismantle the whole thing and forbid them from fightin'." That said, the otter takes a moment to compose his thoughts. He ought to just finish this fox off right now. The urge is there. "We carry weapons now. Any beast who feels the need to carry a weapon for their protection is allowed to. Got that?"
Hactor nods quickly the pain in his side becoming sharper. He stares at Skipper's eyes and smirks. He knows that temptation. He licks his fangs and says, "Go on. Do it.. put me out of my mysery. I know you want to." He would have laughed if not for the pain.
Skipper is sorely tempted. He stiffens, put off by Hactor's dry bemusement. The otter lowers one sword, pressing the blade against the center of Hactor's chest. Tempted, oh yes. His lips peel back, exposing those sharp otter teeth in a snarl. "I said.. -got that-, fox? Do ya understand me?"
Hactor grins wickedly and salutes in mock seriousness, "Got it." He then coughs so harshly it echoes up to the rafters. The blood stain grows still,
Skipper is sure Hactor's goading him now. And it's working, even if the otter's aware that the fox is doing it. With no one around to witness it, no one would know just how Hactor met his end.. The sword at Hactor's chest presses more firmly in place. The other sword remains raised and ready. ".. How sick are ya anyway, fox?" The coughing, the fits, the blood. Makes an otter wonder.
There's a sudden clatter of pawsteps on the stairs, coming down quickly.
Hactor still breathing heavilly replies, "Still healthy enough to have conqoured this abbey otter." He then hears the footsteps and grins, "You have company."
Skipper doesn't turn. It may be one of Hactor's lieutenants, but the otter isn't taking his eyes off Hactor. He just about growls, "Ya conquered a bunch of peace-loving, habit-wearing innocents. Real tough. Unfortunately, I ain't a Redwaller." He keeps the swords in place, raising his voice now to call out. "Who's there?"
"Oi, Chief..." And then Kevarr appears at the foot of the stairs, and her eyes narrow sharply. "/Oi/."
Hactor looks up still lying on the floor. He would have stood if not for the pain in his side or the sword weilding Skipper. He replies to Kevarr in amusement, "Allo captian. Just in time for the party." He wonder's if she'll notice the two dead gaurds the ghost killed.
Skipper's ear flickers. One of Hactor's, but.. He recognizes the voice. Not well, but it's definitely someone Skipper's met before. "Marten," Skip grunts, the owner of that voice clicking once Hactor says 'captain'. "Don't do anything hasty. I ain't killed yer master yet, but I'm centimeters from being able to."
Kevarr certainly notices, though the otter with the swords obviously has her complete attention. "Oh, are you? An' who's going to stop me killing you then?"
Hactor muses, "Perhaps the mysterious Martin the warrior. Hahah-" He then broke dwon into a nother coughing fitt.
Skipper's expression hardens. "Yeah, Martin maybe. Or me. I'd not go down as easy as this fox." With the free sword, the otter gestures for the marten to move into his periphery. "Or I don't stop ya. But yer great army's leader is dead, and Martin'll finish the rest of ya off even if I'm gone."
Kevarr laughs hoarsely. "Otter, are you daft? You realize if he dies, it's Anba Hor that takes over, aye? Put the damned swords down and step back, before you do something everybeast in this Abbey is going to regret."
Skipper squints. "And? So this Anba takes over. He'll go next." The otter doesn't press the sword further, but he doesn't back down. "And I ain't a fan of yer doubletalk, marten. Yer not very clear 'bout whose side yer on, and I don't like it."
Kevarr sneers. "I'm on the side of beasts not dying to crazy torture-happy foxes. Unless you want the walls decorated with Abbeybeast skins before Anba somehow drops dead, put. Those swords. Down."
Skipper traps his tongue between his teeth. He doesn't say a thing, staring down at the fallen warlord for a good minute. In the end, the otter's chest swells and then falls. He eases back reluctantly, pulling the swords away. "Long as this fox keeps to our terms," Skip begrudgingly mutters.
Kevarr keeps her own sword drawn and gestures Hactor toward the stairs. "Terms?"
Skipper's ears flat. He doesn't relinquish his sword -- nor Hactor's sword. He keeps that. "No more fightin' ground or trainin' on the grounds. And the right to carry a weapon for protection, should any Redwaller wish to. Yer master agreed."
Kevarr snorts loudly, but she waits until Hactor's managed to leave the room before she replies. "We should let you carry weapons so you can protect your blades right into our backs, I suppose."
Skipper watches after Hactor, unhappy with the rather uncertain conclusion to things. With a grunt, the otter finally looks at Kevarr. "I ain't complainin' with that notion."
"Exactly my point," the marten says flatly. "Put the swords down before I call the guards back in here. I'll see to dismantling the fighting ring myself."
Skipper isn't quick in complying with the marten. But the otter does neatly tuck the first sword into his bandolier-belt. "Yer runnin' out of time, marten. You and yer army. I won't hesitate the next time I've got a fox at swordpoint."
Kevarr snaps, "Both swords, you stupid beast." She glances sharply back toward the stairs, one ear angled, and then says, lower, "They don't teach you subtlety in the south, do they?"
Skipper is getting to the second. He halts, giving Kevarr a stoney look. "No, they don't. But we learn honor right quick." The warlord's sword is more carefully slipped into his belt. "You ain't telling me everything."
Kevarr hisses, "No, and not here." She sheathes her own sword and stalks past him. "Give me both swords and follow me."
Skipper snorts at that. "The hell am I givin' ya either," Skip insists. He plants a paw on the hilt of one, squinting suspiciously. "I don't trust ya yet, marten. I'll follow, but only armed."
Kevarr stops and glares at him. "You'll give me both or I call the guards. Do you honestly think Hactor's going to let any woodlander stroll around here /armed/? Especially one openly talking about attacking his beasts? This is an occupation, not a daisy gathering romp. Anybeast spots you like that, they're likely to swing first and ask questions never."
Skipper isn't afraid to stare Kevarr back down, straightening to add height to his advantage. Rash and bull-headed maybe, but Skip's cold on the matter. "He'll let me. Least 'till ya give me a good reason to give 'em up. So stop blatherin', start explainin' just who you are, and maybe I'll behave."
Kevarr sneers. "Screw your maybes. Think I'd have more luck trusting a two-day old dibbun."
Skipper's lip curls. "But you ain't got a choice right now, do ya? Foxbutt is hurt. Ya don't talk, I go hunt him down and finish what I started. Ya don't want that, ya trust me."
The marten looks utterly exasperated. "You're threatening me with Hactor's death? Really? /Really/?"
Skipper is the picture of mounting frustration, too. "I don't know! One minute ya want Hactor alive for the betterment of the Abbey, the next ya don't. Make up yer mind, you stubborn marten!"
Kevarr jabs a claw in Skipper's direction, punctuating each of her words. "Clean. Out. Your. Ears. If Hactor dies, Anba Hor takes over, you all end up getting cut into pieces and eaten alive. Hactor staying alive at present is in /your/ best interests. Now if you want to ignore the consequences and run off and play lone hero anyway, hurry up and do that so I can try to figure out how the hell to deal with the fallout. If /not/, give me your weapons and shut up for one bloody minute."
Skipper's ears pin back. It isn't the big otter's pride preventing him from caving. It's simple self-preservation. But stubborn or not, Skipper's not without a seed of faith in goodwill. So despite saying the contrary, he puts his trust in her. Drawing the guard's sword, Skipper lays it flat on the ground. Hactor's sword is then withdraw, the blade flipped and the grip extended to Kevarr. His voice flattens, "Ya better make this worth my while, marten."
Kevarr takes Hactor's sword and shoves it away in her belt, then reaches for the guard's sword. "Come with me."
Skipper's jaw muscles work. He's not okay with the way things are going, but.. Biting his tongue for once, the otter follows after.
