Origins of the Militia

Having escaped his harrowing experience with Luco and Ageless, Raziel finds his way back to the world at large, and reunites with his companions. But the wildcat has a lot of questions...and only one weasel has the answers he seeks.

Picks up from 'Uneasy Alliances II'.

Raziel is weary, and beaten, and tired, and numb from blood loss and the cold, yet deceivingly fluffy snow that falls all around the warrior wildcat. It's been several hours since his parting with Luco, and he's managed to find his way back to the road - though whether he can find his way back to civilization before he passes out is another matter entirely... But, for the time being, the feline trudges onward.

With the sun setting to the west the trek is only bound to get more dangerous with nightfall. There is one benefit though. The approaching darkness makes it easier for the the light of the camp fire in the distance be seen. Off to the south in the trees there is a small but noticeable camp fire.

Raziel would normally be suspicious of investigating campfire - especially since that's what got him into this whole mess with the militia. Despite his misgivings, however, the cat really can't afford to pass this up. He's too tired to build a fire himself, and at this point he's leaning so heavily on his spear to compensate for his injured leg that it may as well be walking /for/ him. Deciding his options are 'investigate suspicious fires' or 'freeze and or bleed to death', the wildcat chooses the lesser of two evils.

The light grows bright as the wildcat approaches. The sounds of conversation and laughter can be heard even if what they are saying can not be understood at this distance. A small wind blows through the woods, bringing with it the smell of lizard, ferret, otter, and weasel. Many of which are familiar.

Raziel sniffs the air as he approaches, picking out the scents above the tang of his blood-soaked bandages and the crisp scent of snow. He's more than a little lightheaded, but the really /do/ seem familiar... "Fargo? Rorgan...or possibly Derrin... Hershel? And..." He sniffs again, still talking to himself, "And...is that Dylan?" He's not good with lizards, but that's the only one he knows. The wildcat limps towards the sounds and scents coming from near the fire, though he doesn't try to call out to them; he doubts he could.

As the wild cat pushes forward the forest begins to thin out. The voices of several beasts can be heard clearer now. Then, right before Raz reaches the campsite a trio of ferrets materialize out of the woodwork. Two female grey furred ferrets and a brown furred male. They each wear a miss match of green, red and yellow tunics and armed to the teeth in daggers, swords, and one even carries a cross bow. "Halt if you know what's good for you cat." Says the grey furred ferret with the cross bow pointed at the wild cat. She lowers it slightly when she sees the state he is in, "Blazes...you look like you were keelhauled..."

Raziel blinks slowly, leaning heavily on his spear, the haft sunk into the snow. "Heh...you could say that," the tiger groans slowly. "Now if you're going to rob me, I haven't got all day; only so much blood in one cat. But you'll be disappointed to find that I have no gold, if that's what you're after. The Militia saw fit to keep that..."

The ferrets look at each other then to the cat. The one with the cross bow shrugs, "OK, if you insist..." She raises her bow to the cats face. "What's going on here?" says a familiar voice. Dylan pushes aside two bushes and his mouth hangs open in shock, "Raz? What in the blazes are...bleedin heck are you bleeding?" The ferret snaps her head around, "Wait? You know this intruder?" She sighs, lowering her cross bow, "Aw man, I NEVER get to shoot anyone..."

Raziel briefly considers breaking the haft of his spear over the ferret's head for pointing the crossbow at him - but he simply doesn't have the energy. "Yes, it's me. How nice of your underlings to greet me with threats of crossbow bolts to the face..." The wildcat chuckles hoarsely, before continuing, "And yes, I'm bleeding, and freezing. So if you don't mind, I think I'll just..." The cat takes a few steps towards the fire - and promptly passes out, the striped feline sprawled in the snow.

The wildcat wakes up to the smell of cooking food, laughter, and the warmth of a fire. His wounds have been properly dressed, his weapons lay at his side and a thick multi colored wool blanket lays on top of him. Around the camp the ferrets are not to be seen even if their smell still lingers here. Dylan is standing over the wild cat with a bowl of stew in his claws, "Here mate, eat up."

Raziel opens his eyes slowly at first, slightly pained by the light of the fire as his sensitive retinas adjust. The feline rubs the side of his head, and gingerly touches the bandage on his leg. "...Thank you," he states simply, taking the bowl into his paws. "How long was I out...?"

"Long enough to have us concerned." Hershel replies from the log he sits on. He has a bowl of stew in his paws as well. His violin lays propped up against the log. Behind him is the prone form of Derrin. The otter lays covered chest to toe in a grey wool blanket. "I wasn't expecting to see you again cat." The weasel continues, "Does this mean...does this mean Luco..." Hershel can't quite finish.

Raziel looks at the bowl of stew for a moment. "No. Luco is still alive. Probably well on his way back to the Militia camp by now." No doubt the weasel has questions about why neither of them are dead, but the cat has a message to pass on. "He told me...that he cannot protect you anymore. He didn't say what from," the cat pauses, taking a gulp of his stew. "...But we encountered a snake. An old, titanic snake...whom you seem to have a history with."

The weasel stops pauses to take this all in. He is inwardly happy that Luco is alive..."I see...." He takes a bite as Dylan sits down on the log across from him. "Titanic snake? You can't mean..." Hershel finishes for him, "Ageless." The weasel rubs at his wooden leg.

Raziel looks at the lizard and weasel, still eating his stew. He really is exceptionally hungry. "Luco said that the 'Founders' trapped him underground, and that he was unkillable. He certainly seemed so, but...how? Where did he come from?"

The weasel sighs, "Luco told you about the founders? Heh..." Before replying to the question he firsts asks, "What about that otter fella that was with you. Did he make it out too?"

Raziel sets down his bowl, empty, and looks at Hershel with some concern. "Rorgan? I'm...not sure what you mean. Was he not with you?" All the cat remembers was stabbing Luco with the spear, going over the side of the bridge, falling, wetness, and...dark. "I have not seen him since Luco and I fell."

Dylan sighs, "So I guess it's true...Rorgan is gone." Hershel takes a deep breath, "Your friend toppled over the side as well. We thought you were all dead."

Raziel grumbles, "We very nearly were... Luco was injured before we went in the water, and I was after. Hopefully, Rorgan fared better, and made his way to safety." Surely, the otter's luck must be better than his own...

Dylan picks himself up and begins to move away from the camp. "Excuse me for a moment...I...I think I heard my men calling for me." Dylan says, hoping his tears cannot be seen from here as he walks away. Hershel shakes his head sadly, "He was a brave lad. I hope he survived." Setting the bowl aside the weasel leans forward, cupping his paws under his chin, "Thank you for saving me wildcat. I...don't like to talk about the questions you just asked but...you at least deserve to know the truth for your hard work."

Raziel nods slowly, sitting himself up with some difficulty. The feline limps his way over to the fire, though he takes the multi-colored blanket with him. His fur is good enough at insulating to keep him warm once he gets back up to his regular temperature...but he's not there yet. "I hope he has as well. But otters are good at swimming, yes? I'm sure he's just fine," the feline says with a weak chuckle. He's not sure what Dylan's reaction was about...but Raziel decides it's best not to ask. "And I am sure that Luco will be alright as well, as much of a pain in the tail as he is...but I'm sure you already knew that." The wildcat does not press the questions he asked Hershel; the weasel will answer in time.

The weasel smiles faintly into the fire. "You can be sure of that. His father was the same way. A good soldier and fellow founder of the Militia. Saved my life more than once..."

Raziel looks at Hershel intently, paying close attention. In his mind, things are starting to fall into place. "I take it that Luco's father - his real father - fell in battle when he was still young, and that you adopted him as your own." However, while some things begin to make sense, other questions are raised. "But...I don't understand /why/ the Militia was founded."

The weasel shrugs, "Why? Have you seen the state Mossflower is in? Forget the warlords that plow it over every two months, it's filled with bandits, thieves, slavers, mad beasts..." He leans back, shielding his eyes with a paw from the fire as he continues, "There were eight of us back then. We were fools, young idiot fools who thought we could bring peace to a troubled land through violence. Ferravale was den of thieves then, the long patrol was overwhelmed, and Redwall is filled with pacifists. So we, we Eight members, three mice, an otter, a fox, a rat, and two weasels formed a group." HE chuckles dryly, "We thought of ourselves as traveling heroes...all we were was a traveling band of thugs who preyed upon what we deemed the guilty." The weasel sighs, "Luco was named after his father...and the reason the militia is the way it is."

Raziel frowns, and looks at the weasel seriously. "There is nothing wrong with trying to fight what is awry in the world, or to fight that which threatens peace. I have fought more bandits than I can count..." The cat trails off, before admitting, "Though it seems that one is at least honorable enough to help a beast in need." The feline takes a deep breath, continuing, "There will always be that thread of doubt, that what you are doing is no worse than those you fight - and perhaps your band of heroes was not so just as it was intended to be. But...should that stop you from trying to make a difference?" From the cat's tone, it's clear that he's talking to himself as much as the weasel, and that the thought has crossed his mind before. "the cat shakes his head, staring into the fire. "How did a goal like that simply become hatred towards vermin, though?"

Hershel laughs at the wildcats comments. "Oh wow...you sound just like we did back then. The problem is that you can not solve violence with violence just as you can not put out this fire with fire. Even if you manage it all you do is scorch the earth around you." The weasel runs a paw through his head fur, "There were no shortage of beasts back then who wanted to change Mossflower for the better. We dug out a base to accommodate our growing numbers. By then I was already running the administrative end after losing my leg to Ageless. I led the beast into the hole we later imprisoned it in and took a bite to the leg in the process before I escaped. By the time I made it to a healer infection had set in." The weasel looks uncomfortable for a long moment, "That was the end of my adventuring days...but, it was also a good thing. Being away from the blood and the fighting gave me a chance to see the Militia from an outside perspective...and see what it was turning into."

Raziel shakes his head. "Violence is not an ideal solution, but it is more a solution than doing nothing, or letting the world fall apart around you." Nonetheless, the cat does not immediately make any other comment, allowing Hershel to continue with his story.

"Heh...that's exactly what I thought when I killed Luco's father." The weasel leans back, staring into the fire as if he is reliving the memory from long ago, "By the time we had a hundred members only a handful of the original members were left. Luco's ideals were becoming more and more unhinged. He started using words like 'purify', and cleanse. He was thinking of wiping out every beast he deemed unworthy and he was starting to weed out the vermin members. I could see where the militia was heading and I couldn't sit back and do nothing. I tried reasoning with him and when that didn't work..." The weasel shrugs, "I stabbed one of my oldest and dearest friends in the back and hid the body in Ageless' cave." He frowns slightly, "I didn't even give it a second thought, come to think of it..."

Raziel sits in stunned silence for a few moments, the crackling of the fire the only sound. He can understand the weasel's motivation; he's seen the same kind of zeal reflected in Luco. But even at that, the feline can't help thinking that Hershel's actions were rather...cold. Perhaps the cat is not as jaded as he's always thought, or perhaps he simply doesn't want to live through that kind of turmoil himself - but in either case, it gives the wildcat pause. "But...if you killed Luco's father...how did the Militia end up being exactly what you were trying to prevent?"

"Yes, how did the Militia turn into what it is today?" Dylan asks as he returns. Sitting down on the log next to Hershel. His expression is less than joyous. The weasel sighs again, "Me and my wife took Luco's son and his sister after I ...killed their father. Their mother was already gone. I am not sure where. But we raised them both along side my own sons and daughters like they were our own. Luco grew up to be a pleasant beast but still took after his fathers love for warfare. He took himself a pleasant mouse maid for a wife and they lived happily until she was struck down by a rat thief." Dylan raises an eyebrow to the weasels tale, "Really? His wife dies and he makes a genocidal army to avenge her?" The weasel shrugs, "Most problems in the world are caused by petty and stupid things. Sue me if it's not dramatic enough for your tastes."

Raziel frowns. He didn't know that...but he can't justify anybeast leading an all-out war on verminkind because of it. It simply doesn't make any sense to the cat. "But how did Luco even take power in the Militia? Surely, remaining founders were few and far between, but you were still there. And why precisely did he have you imprisoned?"

The weasel chuckles, "He didn't just band the militia together, he rebuilt it. After his fathers /disappearance/ the militia gradually fell about and disbanded. Luco though...turns out he is better at organizing groups and armies than I gave him credit for. He's charismatic, he's skilled, and he has no shortage of woodlanders ready to 'change Mossflower for the better'." Hershel spits. "Back in the early days, a few seasons ago I came to him. I tried to reason with him...when that didn't work I tried to tell others that I was his father. Surely that would undermine his position, right?" The weasel shakes his head, "No one believed me. I had become a problem that Luco had to deal with and...he couldn't bring himself to kill me so he locked me up in a dungeon."

Raziel furrows his stripy brow. "So, in effect...this new Militia is only a shadow of the old - the one you helped create. I have seen how Luco operates things. He may be trying to make Mossflower a more peaceful place, but he's trying to do it by killing off vermin, as if woodlanders never fight among themselves." The wildcat shakes his head. "He could not be more wrong." The cat remains quiet again, his slit-pupiled eyes reflecting the light of the fire. He begins slowly, "I...asked Luco something before we encountered Ageless, but he refused to answer. Perhaps you could offer some insight. Now, it may seem insignificant, but I still want to know - what happened to his tail?"

The weasel stares blankly at the wildcat. His face cracks into a grin and he begins to laugh with great mirth. IT takes a moment to get his breath back, "That? really? Heh, he got it caught in a door."

Raziel stares. And stares. And for the first time in...well, several days, actually, the wildcat laughs. He laughs, and laughs, until his (thoroughly bruised) ribs hurt. As the feline finally gets a hold of himself, he states, "Well...that's anticlimactic! I can't say I've ever closed a door on my tail /that/ hard. That must have taken a considerable amount of force," he muses.

Hershel chuckles, "He and his wife were having an argument at the time I think..." The lizard next to him hisses in laughter. He looks up as one of the ferrets from before materializes out of the wood work. The terrified looking ferret quickly whispers to the lizard. Dylan's joyful tone melts away into seriousness. He stands up, adjusting his sword belt as the ferret dashes off. "Hershel. Please make sure Raz and Derrin make it to Ferravale. The road is to the west from here, then head south a few klicks. You shouldn't have any trouble getting there."

Raziel raises an eyebrow at Dylan. "Off so soon, bandit? What, have you a convoy to catch? Best do it now, while I'm too wounded to do anything about it." The cat is only half joking, but he smiles, and inclines his head to the lizard. "Honestly, though, I greatly appreciate what you have done for me. You have my thanks. And as long as you don't do anything /too/ unlawful...I may be willing to cut you some slack," he says with a smirk.

Dylan doesn't return the smirk. "Luco's beasts just hit my camp." He states flatly. Hershel raises his eyebrows slightly, "How bad?" The lizard shakes his head as he tightens his belt, "Bad." He adjusts his hat by running his claws along the rims. "You want to thank me Raz...do me a favor and don't die."

Raziel's heart sinks, and he nods solemnly. The mouse in just as terrible shape as the wildcat, but he already has his overzealous Militia attacking beasts in full swing. "You can count on it, Dylan. I'm not going to die until I'm good and ready." The wildcat glances back at his sword and spear, still leaning against the cot.

"There are things in this world that I still have to take care of."

Though the Militia arc is resolved...for now...it us inevitable that Raziel and Luco will meet once again. Who will prevail? Who should prevail? And when will the struggle end? Only time will tell...