Suddenly MOAR lizards! (side plot)

goes along with this log http://rwmuck.limitless.org/rwmuck/content/suddenly-lizards-part-i

Many things needed to be repaired in Camp Willow after the raid. Housing, the tavern, a guard shack, one of the things at the bottom of the list however is a prison cell. After the Viking raid it wasn't imaginable the otters would be too keen on taking prisoners anyway.

( So an old tool shed had been emptied, a blanket and pillow had been tossed in shortly after the lizard lovingly dubbed 'Handbag' had been thrown in. She paces the floor like a caged velociraptor, growling, snarling, signing king henry the eighth at the top of her voice occasionally before resorting to more growling and hissing. )

The guard out front has the most pleased look one can imagine.

Flynn had returned from his little jaunt into the woods relatively unscathed; unfortunately, he couldn't say the same for the ferret he had taken with him. The status of the vixen he had freed is still unconfirmed...she had ran off into the forest, and he'd likely never see her face again. Strolling into the camp, intent on going back to work on fixing up things, Flynn happens to pass by the shed where Handbag had been imprisoned. He hears the various growls and snarls coming from the shed, and it causes him to pause for a moment. Heading over towards the door, the otter lightly raps upon it with the back of his paw. "Ey! Ya certainly seem t'be 'avin' a grand ol'time in there, dontcha?" he replies, his voice taking on a teasing tone...so basically, his normal tone pretty much. "Yer supposed t'be a pris'ner, so stop soundin' so overjoyed...."

The door rattles as the lizard launches herself at it, both hands and feet, against the door. She backs off, growling at him. "Yeah...she's been doing that since she came in." The otter guard shrugs, "You sure I can't just stab her."

"I promise to give you golden informationsss on a silver platter and thiss is how you treat me?" The lizard hisses from inside.

"You know...just a little?" says the guard.

Flynn grins over at the guard. "Well, I 'ope they 'leapin' lizard-proofed' th'door, mate. An' nope, sorry. We need this 'un alive, fer some reason." Turning his attention back to the door, Flynn smirks. "Just think o'this. If th'roles were reversed, 'ow wouldja treat me, eh?" He pauses...."'Xactly. Yer lucky we didn't ya toss ya somewhere way less hospitable than th'shed. At least ya got a pillow n'blanket, we coulda gave ya a log n' some seaweed, or a bunch o'moss." The otter takes a step back from the door. "An' anyways, 'ow are we t'know whatever information ya got is worth anythin', anyways? Lotsa beasts say stuff jus' t'get released, an' turn out t'be liars."

"Who says I want released?" the lizard asks seriously. "I'm about to give away the location of thieves, murderers and slavers. ALl of whome will do far worse to me than you lot ever could if they find me out there." She laughs, "Yeah, no. I want to be here. Surrounded by guards. Where it is safe." The lizard then adds with a bit of a smile, "But a bit more comfortably..."

Flynn folds his arms against his chest, leaning against the door. "Hmmm. So if y'like it 'ere so much, then why are ya willin' t'give up all this 'infermation' that ya got, eh? Wot's in it fer you? I honestly 'ave no idea wot they 'ave planned fer ya, Handbag, so try not t'get too comfy in there. Ya might be moved at some point t'less comfterble accomodations. I ain't th'leader 'ere so I dunno what's in 'is brain." He glances over at the guard for a moment, giving a light shrug.

The otter laughs. "Handbag...clasic."

The lizard doesn't seem to agree, "My name isn't handbag. It's...Gabd'nah."

The guard takes a moment to think about this. "So...it's handbag...spelled backwards."

"Just shut up!" Comes the beasts sharp reply. A bit smugly the lizard crosses her arms, "I guess you lot just don't want to know about the Bonfire coming up." She chuckles. "I guess those poor beasts are doomed..."

Flynn winks to his otter companion concerning the name. "What're the odds, eh?" he snickers, before attempting to get a bit more serious. "Ahem. Right. So. Wot in th'name o'th' Dark Forest are ya goin' on about? Wot bonfire, an' wot poor beasts? An' again, 'ow do we know yer tellin' the truth? Wot's yer motervations?" He leans against the door again. "If it's riches ya want, yer in th'wrong place t'be askin', heh. Wot exactly is yer price fer this 'infermation' ya got, eh? An' 'ow do we know it's legit? Ya could jus' be leadin' us onna wild goosey chance fer all we know."

Arms crossed the beast leans against the door. If she is going to sell out some beasts they might as well be from an enemy tribe. "Every year before the snow sets in there is a tribe of lizards in this area that will throw something they call The Bonfire. It's a big party. Lots of food. Lots of dancing. Then after they feasted they retreat underground before the snow hits."

Handbag takes a breath, smiling, "Being cannibals, do you want to imagine what they eat?" She chuckles, "They are known to keep captives and slaughter them for their festivals. We did some trading with them, me and those bandits, they have some woodlanders ready to make into stew."

The lizard turns to the door to look at Flynn through the cracks. "You want to know where they are? I want wine. And food. Enough to fill that one otter that was with you, the fat one." She pauses before adding, "And a better pillow."

Flynn listens intently as Handbag speaks. He is registering her information within his brain, storing it away for when it may come in handy. As he listens however, his eyes seem to get cloudy, the anger he feels beginning to gradually build despite the generally neutral look that remains upon his face. If one were to look closer, however, they would most certainly see it within the normally jovial otter's eyes. He absolutely despised cannibal lizards with every shred of his being, especially ones that take hostages and parade them around like prizes. "If it were up t'me, I'd give ya what yer askin' for. But it ain't, still gotta run it past th'Skipper an'see wot 'e says. But I'll see wot I c'n do." He clenches his paws, a frown etched upon his muzzle. "Cannibal lizards, eh?" he mutters. "When I find em, I'm gonna see how they like th'taste o'me fist in their teeth...."

The otter doesn't like canibal lizards? Handbag files that under important to know information, up there with 'don't ever ask for meat beyond fish' The lizard sighs, "Oh of course you have to ask for permision." She rubs her eyes, "Fine. Consider this a measure of good faith. When the time comes though I expect you to put in a good word for me with yer ssskiper. A /really/ good word." She points at the otter, "I mean it. You want the lizards? Their camp is south of here. There is an inlet that leads to their tribe. It's fairly large with a wall surrounding it and covered by trees. If one of you wants to get me a scrap of paper I can draw a map."

The guard raises his eyebrows. Before he can speak Handbag replies, "Yes, I can read and write you speciest jackwagon. Sheesh."

"That...that's not what I was going to ask." The otter says, cheeks blushed red with embarrassment.

Almost before the words are out of the lizard's muzzle, a scrap of paper is pushed into the crack of the door, as well as a charcoal pencil. "Ya ain't my pris'ner, so yah I gotta ask permission, that's 'ow it works among civilized beasts. Now start drawin'." The otter smirks. "An' if this map does lead t'where ya sez it does, I'll put in a good word fer ya. Otter's honor." He eyes the otter guard for a moment, then gives a bit of a snicker as he is chastised by the lizard prisoner. "I'll also bring ya back some ripped off lizerd tails n'maybe a head er two. I'll let ya decide wot t'do with em."

The lizard gags. "Eww! What kind of beast do you think I am?" The beast begins to draw using the wall to support the paper. "At least cook em proper before you toss em in here. Or bring me a pile of fish." She mumbles something about uncivilized barbarian otters before the paper is slid through the door. "Here. Take this, thingy." The map is crude, with pictures of stick figure lizards devouring otter heads while saying 'nom nom nom'.

Flynn grabs the crude map, looking it over carefully. "I gotta ton 'o words t'answer that," he responds to her question, "None of which are suitable fer anyone t'hear." Flynn gives the guard a grin, before he chuckles at the lizard's request. "Fish? Hmmm, I'll 'ave t'look inta that, don't think I ever 'eard o'such a ridiculous beast, dunno wot ya want with a pile of 'em." Eh, Flynn, always with the jokes....even when angry. "Oh, and mebbe while yer sittin' in there, y'can practice yer drawin'. Cuz frankly, it's terrible." He takes the map, folds it up and slides it into his satchel.

The lizard nods her head even though the otter can't see it. "Make all the jokes you want riverdog. Just remember our deal. If anyone gives you any lip about not turning me into an actual handbag you tell them how I helped." She seems adiment about this point.

For obvious reasons.

Flynn nods his head, "Aye, I may not like ya one bit, Handbag, but I never go back on me word. Once this whole thing's settled, I'll make sure yer taken care of." Double meaning perhaps? Nahhhh. Flynn's not like that. "Scout's honor n'all that mumbo jumbo. Oh, an' as a bonus, I dunno if ya like stories about lizards gettin' torn in half by un'appy otterfolk, but...I'm gonna come back with a boatload of em, I promise ya that. Should 'ave some doozies." Flynn grins and gives the otter guard a nudge. "Ow bout you, mate? You comin' with?"

The otter raises an eyebrow. "I need to stand guard..." He says simply as if this explains his answer. Inside the tool shed Handbag chuckles, shaking her head. It wasn't an ideal situation, but it was still a step above 'handbag' status. She shivers at the thought. Her beautifull scales used in such a barbaric way. No, it was not going to come to that.

She was going to make sure of that.

The lizard smiles, "Why work on my drawing," She says softly, "It makes a fairly good distraction." Before sliding the charcol pencil under her bed. Some would call it art supplies. She calls it an emergency shiv.

Flynn shoulders his satchel, the otter pausing a moment to glance back and forth, before he turns his eyes to the guard. "Keep it quiet, then, mate. Ya don't speak a word o'this t'anyone, y'got me? I got some bisness t'take care of out there with some lizards. Ya keep an eye on that one in there...an' I'll be back soon. I ain't gonna be gone long, trus' me..." he winks, before heading towards the path that leads back into the forest. "Next time y'see me, I'm gonna be leadin' a whole group o'Woodlanders back 'ere, an' we're gonna celebrate them bein' freed. Aye?" With that, the otter heads out, and soon is gone into the forest...an otter with a mission.