Militia Dungeon Part 2

Just when you thought the logs were safe to tread, here comes Militia Dungeon part 2! This entire story is set ambiguously in the time stream either some time in the past or future so as to avoid certain time paradoxes. Here we not only learn the identity of the mysterious violin player but our hero's make their dashing escape!

The weasel can not express the amount of relief he is feeling to no longer be shackled to a potentially murderous feline warrior. For the moment the party is alone in the dungeons, a long narrow pathway of open bar cells until the end where heavy wooden doors on either side of the walkway. Never one to take too many prisoners the cells seem empty of noise, save for the last door at the end of the hall, where a strange yet calming melody of violin music is emanating. The music echo's down the dungeons and up the hallway behind them, covering the sound of their...activities.

Raziel is just as happy to be separated from the incompetent weasel. Now, he doesn't have to tear him to shreds! Er...never mind. The wildcat rubs his ankles, looking at Rorgan and Toran. "Thank you. But we're not out of here yet - I need to get my weapons back, and we need to /find/ the exit. I don't know it." The cat gives a wayward glance at the door the music is coming from.

Rorgan also looks back at the door along with Toran, but they decide against opening the door. They had no way of knowing what manner of beast was behind that door, and so they would just have to live with the curiosity. "Well," says Rorgan, picking Derrin up off the ground completely as the otter was much too weak to really walk even while supported. "We need t' be headin' out o' here then once yore ready." He does his best to keep his voice down so as not to alert any beast.

The weasel laughs in a way that is not really laughing but rather an attempt to hide the insane amount of stress that is about to snap him like a brittle twig. "Well then, if we are all in agreement I suggest we get the BLAZES out of here, yes?" Fargo nearly snarls, the obese weasel begins moving up the hallway towards the exit.

Raziel stares at the others like they've gone mad. "You don't want to know what's behind the door? Really? If the Militia have somebeast locked up in there, I doubt it's for good reason."

Toran shakes his head. "Whoever is in there knew the hedgehog that walked in, so obviously it's not a prisoner, now I suggest we move quickly." With that, he begins to follow the weasel up the stairs, quickly followed by Rorgan.

Fargo nods, "The fox has a good point. The militia doesn't seem keen on the concept of prisoners. Who knows what is behind that door." The weasel pauses as the melody raises in volume and tempo. Who ever it is, is really, really throwing his heart and sole into the music. Fargo shakes his head clear, "Besides...s-someone is going to realize that hedghog hasn't come back."

Raziel shrugs, walking over briefly searching the dead hedgehog. He takes the key ring, and idly begins walking towards the door at the end of the hall. He has to know - if he leaves without finding out what manner of beast is in there, he might feel guilty. And he simply doesn't have time for guilt.

Toran and Rorgan stop, looking at Raziel. "Raziel," Toran hisses. "Don't you dare open that door!" He does his best to keep his voice down, but they were already wasting time they couldn't quite afford to be wasting. "Whoever is there will get us discovered!"

The music only gets louder as the wild cat approaches. The tone is, hard to describe in words. The melody is joyful and fast but carries a hint of sadness that flows through those that listen to it, touching the person deep within as each note is struck with the precision only a trained artist can muster. It is beautiful to witness but yet, sad because somehow you know you will never hear something so well played for a very, very long time. Fargo however is too afraid at the moment to care about such trivial things. He pulls at his ears, if the wild cat isn't going to outright kill them he will at least get them killed!

Raziel simply growls, "Would you simply leave them to rot, then? Somebeast who has no doubt been here longer than us, and might be held accountable for the death of the hedgehog, once we disappear into the night? I know it makes no sense, but I wouldn't put it past that zealous rodent." He takes out the keyring, finds one of approximately the right size, and tries turning it in the lock...

Toran's eyes widen, and he sprints from the stairs towards the wildcat. "Raziel, no! Did you listen to nothing I just said?!" He hisses yet again, a bit louder this time.

The door unlocks with a loud CLICK and swings open. The music comes to an abrupt halt. The room in side can not be called lavish, not even pretty but compared to the cells behind them it is rather...pleasant. The room is circular in shape with a few paintings adorning the white washed stone walls. There is a single cot at the far end with a small dresser to the side. A small wooden table sits in the center of the room with two chairs. One is empty, the other is filled by a very small brown furred beast. The weasel's muzzle is white from age. his skinny frame is covered by a red tunic and brown vest. His brown trousers stretch down to his bare foot paws, one is made from wood. The weasel blinks, then smiles, setting down his violin, "Arn't you a little tall for a Militia guard?"

Raziel blinks a few times. Not precisely what he was expecting. Still trying to overcome his confusion, the wildcat replies, "Uh, well...yes, but... What are you doing here. Why does the Militia have /you/ locked up?"

Toran stops, staring at the weasel as well with quite a bit of surprise. "Yes...I would quite like to know the answer to this too.." He finally says, examining the weasel curiously, but cautiously while Rorgan simply watches from the stairs. This is /not/ something he wants to wasting time on when he's holding a fairly weighted beast in his arms, which are already starting to hurt.

The weasel chuckles, "Isn't that the thousand gold question." Putting his redwood violin away into the case sitting at his side the weasel looks like a father puting his child tenderly to sleep in a crib. Every motion is slow, calculated. Snapping the case shut the weasel makes a grunt of effort as he stands up. "Who I am, why I am here...does not matter." The weasel says witha smile. He takes a small bow, "You may call me Hershel. And unless the goons outside have relaxed their status against vermin joining their ranks I imagine that you are escapes and very...very lost."

Raziel frowns. That barely answered his question, and the weasel's slow movements aren't helping speed up this escape. Perhaps this was a mistake... No. No, he considered mauling beasts earlier, this is how he'll make it up to himself, prove he's not a raving, bloodthirsty lunatic. "Yes, we're escaping. Lost, I'm not sure about. Point is, we're leaving, and I'm guessing you'd like to as well. But you're going to have to pick up the pace a little, Hershel..."

Hershel walks forward with a limp, his wooden paw has a join that lifts up and down as he walks. That doesn't mean how ever that it makes his progress any more...efficient. "Young kids today. They never have any patience. Learn to lean back, smell the roses, and enjoy the escape from the clutches of the evil dictator." The weasel moves past the wild cat. Giving a low whistle before continuing, "Wow, talk about your malty assortment of rascals. A fox, two otters, a wild cat and...dear me, is that a cart full of weasel I see down there? By the light, they really /do/ know how to feed those prisoners these days."

Raziel groans, and mutters, "I guess I won't have time to feel guilty either, if he gets us all killed..." The wildcat keeps the keys he took from the hedgehog - they'll likely be useful later. "Okay, I agree. NOW we should leave..."

Toran sighs, walking back to Rorgan, who is still stolidly bearing Derrin's weight. Finally, Rorgan speaks up, "Alright, so can we get goin'?" He asks, almost annoyed.

Raziel stands impatiently, waiting for the old beast to get a move on. Yes, this was probably a mistake, from a purely practical standpoint, and Hershel has yet to say anything actually helpful yes... "Yes, let's go. But seeing as I was dragged in here with a /bag on my head/, someone else should lead..."

Fargo chitters, "Now that we are done here, can we please go?!" The fat weasel begins up the steps when hersel stops him, "Not that way weasel." The old beasts limps to the side into the jail both Fargo and Raz were locked in. He pauses for a moment then grabs hold of one of the bricks in the wall and pulls it out. There is a lever inside. He reaches in and pulls it. The wall cracks open in a unified square shape, sending layers of dust to the floor.

Toran raises an eyebrow along with Rorgan, both of them having been ready to go up the stairs. "Well then..." Mutters Toran, walking towards the moving wall, followed closely by Rorgan.

Raziel blinks a few times as the passageway opens, his jaw hanging open slightly. "Well....that's convenient." However, the wildcat looks around the cell blocks, nervously. "I'm not leaving without my sword and spear, though. I can't replace them." There has to be a lockup around here somewhere...

Fargo can only stare in shock, "That was there...the whole time?!" The captive weasel Hersel chuckles, "This leads to a store room on the lower level. Its lightly guarded. No one will suspect us to come from there..." The weasel rubs his chin, "Least, it should still lead there..." he shrugs, "Your weapons would have been placed in the armory up the stairs and too the left. It WILL be guarded though. If they are still running things the way they should the militia will have four guards in the armory, two on the outside, and two more down the hall to the right..."

Toran nods, electing to take point. "Well seeing as I'm the only one aside from Rorgan that is armed, I'll go ahead and begin clearing them out when we get there." Rorgan nods in agreement, standing a bit in the back of the group so as to protect the creature he is carrying until Derrin decides to wake up. "We might as well take the safe route fer now," Says Rorgan.

Raziel folds his eas back, but he's clearly been outvoted. "Fine. But I /am not/ leaving without my weapons. I can't afford it, and well...they have sentimental value." The wildcat stays towards the front, but behind Toran - the cat isn't defenseless, after all. "Alright, let's get going..."

Hersel nods, "Take care young fella...and do try not to raise the alarm while you are away." Hersel gestures for the beasts to go before him, "I'll go after the kitty cat. and before the weasel. I don't want to get stuck behind him if he can't fit." Fargo grits his teeth, moving past them the fat weasel says to Raz, "You just HAD to save him, didn't you." He helps pry the door open further, the pathway behind extends into darkness filled with old spiderwebs and dirt. It is very narrow, wide enough for maybe two beasts.

Toran looks back at Fargo as he examines the tunnel. "Uh...Fargo, I'm not sure you'll fit through here." By this point, he has drawn his daggers and is a little bit past the doorway. "Maybe I should help you through the guards upstairs and Raziel can carry Derrin while Rorgan fights. Besides, he can likely fool the guards until he gets closer."

Raziel blinks a few times. "Who's Derrin? Oh! The unconscious one. I guess I could do that..." The wildcat doesn't seem entirely comfortable with it, but he'll do it if it means getting his weapons and getting out of here. "I don't have any objections...though it should be noted that I have no idea where I'm going..."

Hersel chuckles, "It's just a strait path to the next room, maybe a few minutes tops. And quit cryin about your weapons cat. We have to go that way as it is...just think of this as a scenic rout, one where we /hopefully/ grab something to arm ourselves with along the way," The weasel turns to size fargo up, "I think the weasel should be ok...asuming the path is in one peice still...but it's up to you fox."

Toran looks between the creatures, trying to think. Finally, he says, "Raziel, take Derrin and Rorgan will take point. I will go with Fargo and attempt to get him through this place a different way." Rorgan nods, handing Derrin off to Raziel and drawing his bow and one arrow.

Raziel takes Derrin, putting him in the mildly uncomfortable position of being in close contact with a beast he doesn't know at all! But, he'll manage. He does, however, glare at Hershel. "You know, we /did/ just let you out of that cell, and are actively facilitating your escape. You /could/ be a little more grateful. Or at least a little less grating..."

The weasel chuckles in a way that is not so much pleasent, but annoying, "Oh? You act like the militia had me locked away in a cell as a common prisoner. I'm no prisoner...THEY are MY prisoner..." turning to the fox and other weasel, "Try to stay out of trouble, there should be two guards up the hall. After that, I can't say. Someone will come looking for the hedgehog eventually, so be quick." Hersel turns to the cat and otters once again, "So...who wants to go down the scary dark hallway first?"

Toran nods, and walks to the stairs, waiting for Fargo. Meanwhile, Rorgan steps forward with his arrow laid on his bowstring. "I'll be going first, so stay close." He slowly begins to walk past into the passageway without another word.

Raziel stays close indeed, and stays back a little bit now that he's been entrusted with a strange otter. The wildcat has to duck a bit to enter the passageway, and must hold Derrin carefully to avoid hitting the walls. He gives Hershel a wary look from time to time - he didn't expect the weasel to be this obnoxious...or alarming.

Fargo does not look happy with this arrangement. He looks down and examines his stomach. He's not THAT fat...is he? The weasel, defeated by his own embarresment walks off to follow the fox. Meanwhile the corridor the party takes is anything but charming. It is pitch dark in here save for the light from the end of the tunnel behind them. Added to the fact narrow, small, and littered with fallen bricks. Hersel hums as he walks, "Oh isn't this exciting? Just like the old days. The running, the dodging of dangers. I havn't had this much fun in AGES." The weasel's wooden leg thumping against the floor echoes down the passage, "There is something though...something I forgot to tell you about the passage way here... blast...I can't remember."

Rorgan looks back at the weasel for a moment before looking back to the front. "An' wot would that be Hersel?" He asks, slightly distracted by having finally rescued Derrin. Moreso the fact that, upon his own inspection, their fur did in fact look exactly the same in color, and they had the same eye color as well. Maybe..maybe they were in fact related. To put it in perspective, though unbeknownst to Rorgan, the two otters did in fact look exactly the same in every way, and if Raziel and the weasel didn't know better, they could've been fooled into thinking Derrin was walking in front of them and that Raziel was holding Rorgan instead.

The weasel continues to scratch his chin, "Blazes, it's on the tip of my tonge...oh what was it." As the part moves forward there is a loud TWANG in the wall to the right. Up ahead of them in the darkness a large curved blade starts to in an arch motion towards the lead party member, "OH, right...it was booby trapped..." The weasel says with cheerfulness.

Normally, it would take quite a bit to take the wildcat off his feet, but with his arms full of otter, it doesn't take much to take him off balance, and send him to the ground, grunting as he hits it, and cursing as he watches the blade swing. "What in the blazes?!"

Hersel watches the blade come for him. He takes a step backward and it misses him by a hairs breath before embedding it's self in the ceiling. It's heavily rusted and heavy...but had it connected with any of them....The tunnel is filled with Hersels laughter, "Ah yes, Percy always did love his traps."

Rorgan's breathing, which had increased for a few moments, now calms as he slowly gets to his feet. "Who in the stars is Percy?!" He demands angrily. He was mostly afraid for Derrin's life more than his own, both of which had nearly been ended.

Hersel replies to Rorgan first, "Percy was a rat." He says simply as if that explination was good enough, "There, you know something. Better let me take point from here, I think I can remember where the spike pit was..." the weasel limbs forward, trying to move past each of the beasts, "Now come along slow pokes, we won't escape with you both lolly gagging there." The weasel slings his violin over his shoulder, whistling a merry tune as he continues down the hall.

Rorgan shakes his head in wonder at the weasel, but he follows Hersel without a word, leaving Raziel to follow behind him along with Derrin.

Raziel's whiskers twitch in agitation. He doesn't care about whether or not it was the 'right' thing to do. He doesn't care that the ferret found them this secret passage. Rescuing Hershel simply seems like a terrible mistake... The wildcat follows along, keeping a fair amount of space between himself and the others. He has no intention of being caught that close to a trap again.

Everything has an end. Including a the passageway. With Hersels constant, "Don't step there or you will die," Warning The party manages to make it to the end of the hallway with out sprining more traps. Eventually light begins to trickle into the hallway. There is a wooden door up ahead where light is shining through between the boards, and a leveler on the side. "Ok...right through here is the secondary storage area. It should be deserted."

Rorgan sighs, slipping past the weasel and walking to the door. "Are you sure it'll be deserted?" He asks, turning back to Hersel. He wasn't quite eager to be surprised by anything else at the moment, so he had to take precautions.

Raziel remains silent. If he opens his mouth now, he isn't entirely sure he could keep himself from biting the irritating weasel. He readjusts his grip on Derrin instead, and watches for any sign of activity.

The weasel scoffs at their concern, "Lightweights, I can't imagine how you all got caught by the militia at /ALL/." The weasel grips the handle of the lever, then pulls, "Sometimes...you just need to have a little faith, and a sense of adventure..." The door opens into a poorly lit room. As the weasel promised the room is deserted...but not a storage room. The room is indeed large, with wooden walls decorated by weapons and various vermin pelts. There are racks upon racks of wooden weapons and dull swords, axe blades, and spears. The room is supported by four stone collums. In the center is a large red training mat with gold lining. A single double door exit is to the right on the far wall.