Leave me alone! Please! Take the sword and go away! (so thinks the Warrior)

This happened a few days before it was RPed. Thanks for reading!  :)

RW Abbey: Gatehouse

A small but well set up room set into the walls of the abbey near the gates. It has a single small window and a sturdy door with iron hinges. One your left the far wall has been almost completely taken up by shelving that holds well cared for old scrolls and manuscripts; the shelves leaving just enough space for a framed painting of Redwall. The wall that the door is set in but on the left hand side is sat a large locker where weapons are stored and then, beside it, is a very small desk that is covered in wood shavings. On the rear wall, below a ladder leading to the loft, is another locker, but it is smaller than the first and more of a cabinet. The only other wall houses a small fireplace and by it sits a pot with a ladle in it, and in front of the hearth is a handmade wooden rocking chair. The only other furnishings in the room are a small table and two chairs.

Exits: Climb to the [Loft], [Out]

Contents:

Small Box

Simple Rapier

The door to the gatehouse is closed...with good reason, too. It's cold out there! The occupant of the room is none other than DoraRose Strongheart. She is looking through a /really/ old book for a reason known only to her, and she seems /very/ engrossed in whatever she's reading. She is sitting at the table, her back to the door.

A certain ermine walks in, hood down and facial expression blank. He sits down at the table silently across from the warriormaid, not interrupting.

DoraRose glances up, stares at the ermine, than glares at him before looking back at her book. "What do you want, ermine?"

"Knowledge," he answers reasonably. "Why do you hate me?"

"None of your stinkin' beeswax." DoraRose replys, without looking up. "Next question."

"You said you distrusted me because I knew your past and future." Nightbreath leans forward across the table and hisses, "Do you think I wanted this path? Do you think I enjoy watching, waiting, learning, afraid to grow too close to any because I know when, where, and how they'll die? I never chose to carry the blood of Gild'ernur in my veins. I didn't choose this life."

Jerking her head up, the mousemaid glares into the ermine's eyes. "Oh, really? So you're like the Oracle of Delphi, a child of Apollo, destined to know the past, present, and future? If that's so, then leave me be. I have had enough of Oracles and Seers and telling the future. I wish to know no more."

"Delphi and Apollo are but illusions," Nightbreath says distantly before saying, "I am not Oracle. I am Gil'amar. And tho' I wish for this enmity between us to cease, even if it should not, I have one request of thee."

"How do you know Delphi is an illusion? I've been there, thank you very much. Why, I was there..." No, don't go there, thinks DoraRose, and she jumps on the oppourtunity to change the subject. "What is it you want, ermine? How could I possibly help you?"

"The sword wielded by Stormfeather--he took it from my mentor's corpse, along with the white-silver cloak he wore-do you know where it now lies? I thought that it may be in thy keeping," Nightbreath says. In the background, Zarok slips into the room.

Snorting in a very unladylike manner, DoraRose states, "Why on Earth would I drag around a battle trophy? My Father taught me better han that. So, no, I don't have it. It's probably still in the cave with Stormfeathers' rotting carcass."

Nightbreath nods and sighs. "And there I suppose it shall lie for all time...My thanks, nonetheless--" Just as he speaks there's an odd, self-conscious, reluctant little coughing noise from Zarok, who suddenly is scuffing the floor and looking a bit guilty for some reason.

DoraRose is in no mood for games. Whirling around, she fixes her blues eyes on the hapless little lizard. "Zarok...what is it?"

"Um...Dorrozzze might wanna check tha'," Zarok mumbles, not meeting her eyes.

Closing her eyes, the warriormouse takes a deep breath, gathering up her patience. "And why is that, honey?"

"Um...you might wanna zee for yourzelf," Zarok mutters.

DoraRose's eyes fly open as she just barely holds her temper in check. Poor Zarok. "Stop speaking in riddles, please. What would I want to see for myself?"

"Fox's ssssword," Zarok whispers. He knows why DR hates that blade and appears to be having second thoughts.

Swallowing hard, the warriormaid gets her stupid anger under control. She knows she would hate herself if she snapped at him. "Do you know where the sword is, Zarok?" she asks in a much calmer, sweeter tone.

"Where Dorroze-sssword izzz," the reptile mumbles, knowing that he wasn't supposed to know where that is either.

DoraRose looks at the reptile slightly incredulously. "How do you know where my sword is?"

"I could sssmell where you had been," Zarok replies.

DoraRose pauses, then accepts that answer. "Excuse me." she says to Nightbreath, not because she's wanting to acually be polite to him, but rather to show Zarok good manners through her actions. Taking the little lizard's clawed paw, she heads upstairs, into the Gatehouse attic.

Nightbreath nods and waits silently, expression serene and vague. Zarok follows Dorrozzze to the attic. Sneezing just a bit.

By the time the pair come back down, DoraRose is sneezing like a champion. She sits down on the bottom step and sneezes and sneezes and sneezes. After /finally/ getting her nose under control, she sniffles and hands the bundle to Nightbreath. "He..he..ha...here...Ah-CHOO!"

"Thank ye," Nightbreath says, beginning to open the bundle. From the outside it appears white but the inner lining is silvery and gleams...the cloak of the grey fox, and before him, the Seer of the eastern Lands. Wrapped in it lays a hardened brownblack scabbard, curved like the claw of a great eagle flying midst the mighty stars...from it extends a slim, elegant, narrow, circular pawguard, between the currently non visible blade and a paw-and-a-half--length hilt, which has interwoven patterns of diamond shapes, darkred, black as well as brownish. Nightbreath murmurs something before drawing the blade, saying, "The blade of my mentor, who was as father to me...Would that it had been used for greater deeds after his departure. But it may yet redeem its tainted edge...To me, Gild'arn'r, this has the same value as the great black-ax carries for thee."

DoraRose cocks an eyebrow, then shakes her head. "Hooray for you. Hope you can redeem it. Now please leave me be. Forever would be nice."

Nightbreath sheaths the blade forcefully and hangs the scabbard at his belt. "Very well." He turns on his heel and departs, stopping at the door and turning back for just an instant, only to say, "Do not mock my craft. I do not mock the warrior life which you lead. And remember this: I have no quarrel with thee. I am not the enemy." Zarok whispers to DoraRose, "Why you hate him?", all innocent curiousity and inquisitiveness.

Placing a paw on Zarok's head, DoraRose frowns. "I...don't know. I just don't know."

"Hope he likezz the sword," Zarok says off-handedly.

Frowning, the warriormaid sighs. "I hope so, too."