Lizards in the Belfry
Technically its the cavern hole but I liked the name so that's what I'm calling it. DYlan meets a fellow lizard Flinge in the abbey and gets to apply Bandit logic to Theater Troupes
Most of the beasts at the abbey are currently more worried about having dinner than relaxing in Cavern Hole, and at this time of day, most of the beasts sitting within are too elderly to enjoy much commotion or simply busy with other, quieter things. Unfortunately, it seems that there's not going to be much silence in Cavern Hole that night, as two vermin bicker quite ernestly over multiple scrolls of parchment, pointing at things and occassionally seeming to quote from the parchment in overemphasized voices. One of the beasts is a frilled lizard, frill fully extended as he gesticulates with heated hand movements, and the other is a female ferret, not a single hair out of line and wearing a far prettier dress than a poor vermin like her should have, her hair up in an elegant display. She seems to be arguing just as heatedly, and one can practically sense the uncouth beast hiding underneath the shiny veneer.
Tonight the abbey is graced by two lizards. Unlike his counterpart Dylan is slightly taller, with spikes instead of a frill. He also has a good deal more meat on his bones most centered around his middle. The work out he had in the training yard should help with at least some of that problem. Hoping to catch his dinner before it was all eaten by these redwaller beasts the reptile is distracted by the argument going on between vermin of all beasts.
Of course, due to the heated argument between the ferret and the lizard, they don't notice another beast coming in; it could just as easily have been some doddering old mouse searching for his slippers before bed, in their opinion. They, on the other hand, were talking ART! "Dammit, Carlotta! I'm not about to let you slide another song into this play! You're already getting a dirge when Veil dies, what more do you want?" Of course, Flinge knows perfectly well what the jill wants, he's just not willing to give it to her. Carlotta, in response, fluffs herself up and stares down her nose at Flinge. "What I want is to add some more presence to this show!" Her accent is strange and faint, though the more excited she gets, the more she threatens to slip deep into it, and furthermore she has an overly loud, operatic tone to her voice. "And just how do you intend to do that without a more operatic piece to contrast the dirge?"
The larger red scaled lizard can't help but raise any eyebrow to this. Since he actually lacks any actual eyebrows, one eye grows larger than the other and a head spike shifts slightly upward. Shaking his head finely Dylan decides to investigate the matter. Prehaps he can help solve it. It's either that or listen to them argue all through his meal. Thankfully Dylan has worked out most of his current stress already on a training dummy. The lizard strides over, tail dragging along the floor behind him and he appears next to the two beasts, "But what is a good opera with out a little dirge?" he says with a coy smile.
Help these two solve a problem? A woeful misjudgement on Dylan's part! As Flinge's head snaps towards the interruption into their discussion and Carlotta offers Dylan a lazy and condescending glare, there's not much comraderie in either gaze at being addressed by another vermin. "Ya sssstay outta zzzzisssss! Yar not involved!" Flinge splutters with impotent rage. Having to argue about things with Carlotta is bad enough, but this kind of nuisance is bad enough that his voice cracks like an egg and the thick yolk that is his accent spills onto the floor. Meanwhile, the ferret gives an entirely different, but equally enraging retort, a short bark of laughter peeling from her mouth. "Charletan! Who ever heard of an opera with only one song? And for that song to be only a dirge! The climax with no buildup indeed!"
The lizard leans away from his counter part as he hisses at him. He's had arguments with bandits and slavers that involved less yelling. Prehaps more killing and dismembering and dissembowling but never with a dissigreement so bad. He looks around the area for help in the matter. No one seems to be wanting to raise up to the challenge. Not even the fat otter guard on the far wall eating his supper. Blasted peacefull pacifists..."Oh kay...that...someone got bit by the accent bug didn't they?" He gests. "Look, I'm not sure what is going on, or really care for that matter, but its been a long day and i just want to eat my meal in peace..." he begins.
Perhaps it's the fact that they're surrounded by pacifists that ensures that the pair of thespians can be so bold in their assertions that, for the time being, they own this table and the air around them. It's undisputably theirs simply because no one's going to bother trying to take it from them. With his accent called out, Flinge clears his throat and rapidly regains his assumed way of speaking, looking a bit rattled by the fact that somebeast called it forth, "If you want to eat your meal in peace, then you're perfectly free to go elsewhere! It's far from my responsibility to tend to your mortal comforts." The patronizing tone practically drools down Flinge's chin and pools at his feet in thick, gooey rivulets. Meanwhile the jill does her best to prove that despite being quite beautiful, she has a distressing ability to make herself thoroughly unattractive through gestures and expressions.
Dylan leans forward, towards the two beasts and says with a polite yet forcefull tone, "I would but I can hear you from the great hall." He leans back, hands in his pockets, "On the bright side we all know for certain your voices carry pretty well."
The forceful tone is hardly anything that the two beasts aren't used to, and strangely, now that they've been interrupted once, refocusing their belligerance onto a newcomer doesn't seem to put the pair out at all. The ferret merely places a paw to her head and fakes a swoon, letting out an airy, "Ooh la la!" Flinge just sniffs and turns up his snout, which does little more than makes him look into the taller beast's eyes. If he feels any fear at being rounded by a larger beast, he's hiding it extremely well. Actors! Flinge says, "Then take your dinner up to the belltower. I'm sure the ringing of the bell will drown us out just fine." Mar 4, 2014 at 7:02 p.m.
Dylan feels his tail twitch and his blood preasure begin to rise. He is so glad he worked out his stress on that training dummy, else he might have been tempoted to drag the scrawny little reptile up the bell tower and use his head to ring the bell. Instead the lizard sighs. He pulls up a near by chair, spins it around and sits down with the back pressed up against his stomach. "I can see I am not going to enjoy my meal in peace tonight so I might as well listen to what the problem is." He gestures for the actors to continue.
With the impressive adaptiveness that comes from occassionally having to ad-lib a line when something goes wrong, Flinge and Carlotta are back to their argument as though it never ended, with Carlotta making the opening salvo. "It's bad enough that you're making me play Veil, a male, but to thoroughly geld this performance of any artistic merit by changing the genre is absolutely abhorrent!" Flinge is soon leaning across the table and arguing back, no less aggressive than the actress. "This play was never written to be an opera! And you're lucky I'm letting you have a single dirge at all! After all, your character is supposed to be dying when you want to sing!" Carlotta snipes back, "My male character!" "Don't you start that argument again! You're the only ferret we have, and if you need a bit of chest binding to play the part, then so be it! Besides, we've had Inktail play females before, so you're not even the only one!"
Another scaley eyebrow is raised from Dylan. He rubs his eyes. He had to deal with problems like this as a bandit leader. Emotions flair up, arguments ensue, and it was his job to take beasts and set them to the side and explain to them that they were acting like dibbuns argueing over a stick in the mud. And usually explaining it too them in ways only a dibbun would understand...of course it is much easier to get a point across when one is armed. Blasted redwall pacifists. "So...if I understand you both right. You Mrs. Ferret, would like to be put on point of the raid, er, excuse me, into a position more worthy for your tallents and you, Mr. Lizard are angry because that would mess up your plan completely and and you don't want to risk the entire opperation having to retrain your crew for job on the fly, excuse me again, you don't want her tossing a wrench into the production you have already practiced and got down pat?" Dylan asks in a calm, controlled voice...he kind of has too. The guards might not take kindly to THREE angry beasts in the cavern hole.
Flared emotions aren't anything new to this little troupe, however, and one might suspect that this argument rears its ugly head in different guises with different actors every single production as complaints get more ernest as the opening night gets closer. It's almost ritualized. Flinge drawls, "Oh good, you're keeping up. with /our/ argument." The horde references likely aren't lost on either of them, but since the pair have played in their fair share of unscrupulous circles, it's not much of a shock, though the jill does give Dylan a knowing smirk.
Dylan nods to the knowing smirk before he steeples his claws together like a manager conversing with two unruly workers. "I have no experience with runnning a theater production. I have run groups of beasts into combat before. Arguments are bound to happen of course, but things run so much smoother if you manage to, well, smooth things over before a battle starts. Prehaps there is a way to give you both what you want...or at least partially what you want with out slitting the others throat in the night?" He smiles jokingly.
The tactics are so blunt that both Flinge and Carlotta, who likely have more in common than they're keen to admit, both turn stoney at the suggestion that they just spontaneously agree to things. Carlotta underlines just how ineffective the advice is. "I don't want to do what he wants to do, he doesn't want to do what I want to do. How do you suggest we find what we both want?" Flinge speaks up as well, "Indeed! And in that case, there's going to be a winner and a loser, and the winner is going to be me, since I'm the director! So quit your whining, my lovely first lady of the stage." Carlotta's expression cracks and the elegance drains from her face for a simple moment, looking thoroughly ready to lunge across the table and throttle Flinge. Mar 4, 2014 at 8:11 p.m.
Dylan resists the urge to throttle them both. Prehaps they both need a hard lesson in bandit tactics, hard as in a hard blow to the back of the head. Dylan calms himself. He reminds himself that he doesn't lead that way...led that way. Come to think of it his gang was wiped out in the end, all his failthfull crew decorating Militia tents as rugs. Does he really have the right to give advice to anyone right now? He brushes off the thought and chuckles. In the end his goal is to end the argument, not solve it. So he chooses sides to effect a quicker end to his means."I'm afraid the lizard does have you there Mrs. Ferret. In the end the person who dishes out the wages gets to decide how things are done."
"Finally, he speaks sense!" crows Flinge as Carlotta shoots Dylan a look of pure poison, as though she's seriously giving debate to whether she should stab him in the kidneys for being so base with something as high and important as ART! Regardless, the point does seem to have thrown a considerable wrench into the gears of their argument, and with a huff, Carlotta rises up and stalks out, shooting back over her shoulder, "If you'll excuse me, I must go practice my dirge. The audience deserves at least /something/ to make their trip worthwhile." The argument has ended, and one very smug looking frilled lizard is left with his arms folded in triumph, enjoying the momentary lull while he can before the next problem comes up.
Dylan shakes his head, "Artists..." Dylan leans back in his chair happy the argument is finely over. Many of the beasts seem to be happy too. Wait, no they arn't! THe room is empty now! He was hear talking with these beasts until dinner ended. Grinding his teeth together the red scaled lizard sighs. He supposes he can skip a meal, or two...want is however different from need. "Well I'm glad that is settled. It does kind of explain the theater troupe out there in the abbey lawn..."
Unfortunately for the attempt at more quiet conversation, Flinge has already gathered up the parchment and has his snout buried in it, reading over the lines and occassionally grumbling to himself about things that need to be amended, practiced, or fixed. The only comment that Dylan gets is a distracted, "Hmm, indeed." Hardly any comment at all, and Flinge departs with a single thank-you or goodbye. Loathesome little thing.
