The Arrival of the Soulslashes
Characters: Bree, Hactor, Jirael, Kevarr, Skipper, Treaglo
RW Abbey: Entry
This is a sandy area between Great Hall and the main gates of the Abbey. It obviously gets a great deal of traffic, if one is to judge by the number of pawprints going every which direction here. There is an obvious path leading to the double doors of Great Hall. In places that are not so trampled, new shoots of green grass and budding dandelions are making their presence known.
Shadows are lengthening, and the sun has begun to sink behind the western wall.
Exits/Entrances:
[G]reat [H]all [C]limb to the [R]amparts [A]bbey [P]ond
[Ga]te [H]ouse [Leave] through the gates [Open] Ground
[C]hampion's [C]ottage
//Familia obduramus//. By the will of the Stars on high, seasons have seen the boy become a beast, the Prince become a Regent, the heir apparent the acting Heir. The ring on Jirael's finger, silver and weighty, marks him as acting as his aged father's proxy, and the quartet of beasts, all foxes, all dressed in black and red, all armed with sheathed swards, carry a green and black banner with a silver fox head, marking him as emissary not just of Ruingate, but of the Family itself. This all means something, to someone who knows the signs. To the uninformed, the uninterested in the fanciful trappings of self-styled divine monarchy, only this is clear: someone thinks himself //very// important. As Jirael does, though that is not to understate the importance demanded of such a mission. A visit to Redwall, now fallen after seasons of standing tall. Fallen to the higher breeds, the predators. Yet not to the Family. And that... that is something of a problem.
( Jirael Soulslash moves with his entourage towards the gates of Redwall, slowly, banner held high, ready to declare himself with pride and with purpose. )
Hactor has had word of the aproaching entourage, and was standing at the entry with four gaurds, and a few lesser advisors. He was diapointed that his leutinant could not be present. But better to spare the guests of Anba's theatrics. A breeze picked up sending the Warlords long hair and cloak into a frenzy. This meeting could bode very well Zorr willing. But there was still the other ...
And at his side - the Lady Regent, clad in a simple green dress. She's standing quite tall, a touch of pride evident in her stature. Bree moves with carefully practiced grace along with Jirael, though her eyes stray slightly with a twinge of curiosity over Hactor and his guards as the Soulslash entourage seems to have reached their final destination.
Restless. Not even a recent swim calmed Skipper's mood -- who now crosses the grounds back towards the abbey proper. In doing so, the otter notices Hactor's entourage standing in wait. His ears flutter, picking up other unfamiliar sounds. So with a grunt, Skip sidles on over to investigate.
Treaglo is just making her way quietly around the grounds, looking busy so as not to be noticed, as the sun dips behind the wall. She's trying to picture the lovely peaceful evening without vermin running around ruining it, but the sudden realization of a big group of angry-looking ones standing up ahead grab her attention. She watches them, picking up sounds from outside the walls...
( Jirael lifts a hand, halting his escort at least fifteen paces away from Hactor and his guards. The Regent leans over and murmurs in Bree's ear. "Your grace can be held in reserve, my love. These look beasts of a type best met with a certain bearing." He touches his hand to the small of her back, a nearly invisible mark of personal tenderness, before he steps out from between the defensive grouping of armed foxes and crosses half the distance between himself at the Warlord. A paw rests on the pommel of his blade, then leaves, lifting behind him, paw in a loose fist. His right hand, ringed, is extended in the offer of a arm-gripping shake, should Hactor choose to meet it. "Tod-brother," he says, "I greet you as a friend and a guest, if you will offer your hospitality. I am Jirael Soulslash, Lord Regent of Ruingate, acting Master of Darkspire. I come as my noble father's proxy, acting on behalf of the Family and our demesne." )
Hactor smiles and takes Jirael's hand shaking it. He replies, "I offer it freely, and happily. We are honored that the regency of Ruingate has recognized our currently humble settlement." He then turned to the four gaurds and ordered them to see if preperations were finished in the Great Hall. Turning back to Jirael he continued, "Your grace must be tired after such a long journey. Please come and dine with me and my court."
Bree relaxes immediately upon Jirael's whisper, a grin spreading across her muzzle. Her paws, however, fold behind her back, and she shifts her weight absentmindedly from side to side just slightly as she waits. Every now and again, however, the shifting stops as she seems to remind herself to be still.
Skipper's crossing carries the otter right up to the gate, just about. He boldly insinuates himself behind Hactor's guards, using his height to good advantage. Squinting out at the approaching strangers, Skip can't help but snort at the sight of the overdressed gangle of vermin. ".. More foxes. Just what we needed."
Treaglo is overcome with curiousity, and scurries over to the entry silently, shimmying up a tree in a blink of an eye. She notices the lovely vixen, and the interesting demeanor of her mate, and perks her ears to Skipper's comment.
( Jirael gives Hactor a smile, one that doesn't fail to reach his eyes. Respect, decorum, fellow feeling... these are all good signs. "With pleasure. This is more decency than was ever shown my father by the keepers of this place, from what I was told. It gratifies me to see the benefits of the Order already manifesting. You must tell me of the changes you have made since seizing this place. The Family is most interested in the proper administration of all lands, and would be happy to both aid and learn from our fellow foxes." He motions for his beasts to follow, moving back to take Bree's arm in his own, moving in unison with her. Skipper is taken note of, and Jirael pauses in place, turning his eyes on the otter. A river otter. Acceptable. "Sirrah Otter," he states, "have you some reservation about my kind? Please, speak your mind, so that I may set it to rest." )
Bree takes Jirael's arm, giving him a quick flash of a fond expression. Her curious gaze, however, shifts toward the tall otter peering over the tops of heads. A brow raises up at him, and that little grin of hers starts creeping its way back into her expression.
Hactor hears Skipper's comment, but chooses to ignore it. The otter's insolence was to be expected. A gaurd hurried back and informed Hactor the feast was laid out. Hactor dismissed him and began strolling along side the other foxes saying, "Not much has been changed acctualy. Though we do not tolerate violence. From woodlanders or vermin."
"Hrm." Treaglo frowns at these newcomers. Will the bad guys, though seemingly courteous, never keep coming? Her sneakiness and wonder don't fade, as she readies herself to run back down and into the Abbey building where they'll soon be. She stares at the scene down below, but her mind is coming up for another place to hide inside. She can't help herself to something a bit exciting around here. She has to be careful, though...
Skipper's eyes momentarily search beyond the foxes, sweeping the ditch and the woods on the far side of the road. His eyes momentarily connect with Bree's, before just as quickly jumping to meet Jirael's. Casually, the otter scratches an ear. "I got a problem with anyone forcin' themselves on Redwallers, be they shrew or foxes. So yeah, ya bet I got a problem right now. Yer just addin' to it, Royalbutt."
"I am not here by force, sirrah Otter," Jirael states, smoothly enough, "though force is sometimes necessary to stir sedimented prejudice and stagnation, or to impose proper order. I invite you to discourse with me at your leisure, so that I might impress upon you the value of this change, for Redwall, and for all of Mossflower." He inclines his head slightly, "I hope you are willing, despite the royalness of my rear," a slight twinge of smile, and glance to Bree, this comment inspired almost entirely by her influence. He then follows after Hactor, towards the Great Hall. "I approve. The Family has always thought well of the purpose of the Abbey, if not its leadership."
Treaglo decides that it would be best to be in the Abbey before they get there, so she can remain in the backround. She skims down behind the tree, and strolls casually out of sight to the back of the Abbey. She heads toward open grounds where she can get into the kitchens, glancing back at the group once and awhile with squinted eyes.
Hactor still stroling torwards the Great Hall gives Skipper a cold glare with his good eye, though he still remanes calm. Hearing Jirael he replies, "Yes. But fortunatley the leadership of this place has been fixed. And I hope to keep it that way." He looked to Skipper and continued, "I hope to keep it under your betters otter."
"Clean out yer ears. My problem is Foxbutt here -- " Skipper pauses to jerk a thumb at Hactor. " -- who did force his odorous self on Redwall. -You-? Yer just making my headache worse. And ya talk too much." But the otter's not about to turn down Jirael's invitation, no matter what Hactor says. He drops into the midst of the foxes. "For the record, Royalbutt, Foxbutt ain't really in keepin' with this abbey's purpose."
Skipper adds, with a glance at Hactor. "And my betters ain't you."
"I am not here by force, sirrah Otter," Jirael states, smoothly enough, "though force is sometimes necessary to stir sedimented prejudice and stagnation, or to impose proper order. I invite you to discourse with me at your leisure, so that I might impress upon you the value of this change, for Redwall, and for all of Mossflower." He inclines his head slightly, "I hope you are willing, despite the royalness of my rear," a slight twinge of smile, and glance to Bree, this comment inspired almost entirely by her influence. He then follows after Hactor, towards the Great Hall. "I approve. The Family has always thought well of the purpose of the Abbey, if not its leadership."
Bree gives Jirael's arm a little squeeze, but at Hactor's last comment, the vixen's brows shoot up, "Folks that..." there's a pause, and a biting of the lip. Then a look to the otter, and a smile, "Glad to have you join us, Sir Otter."
Hactor still glaring at Skipper replies, "Actually your better /is/ me." He noticed Bree and calmed down considerabley. He continued to Skipper though watching Bree, "Please show a sign of courtesy for our guests.
Treaglo still eyes the faraway beasts, slowing to their, unhurried, pace. Perhaps a little suspicious...but still, she makes her way and stops before entering a back way, waiting until they're almost to the large door.
Skipper twitches. Sparing a paw to fuss with his whiskers, the otter turns back to the Ruingate foxes. "It's Skipper. Skip, if yer lazy like me. So kindly cut out the whole 'Sir Otter' this, 'Sirrah Otter' that, yeah?" He rounds on Hactor smoothly, unable to prevent his expression from turning roguish. "You, my better? Foxbutt, just a few nights ago, I had ya on yer butt with yer own sword pointed at yer throat." He can't help saying this slightly louder, so any of the guards can overhear. "Don't talk to me 'bout betters."
And, Jirael, overcome with fatigue, heads off for a rest. Bree gives a furrowed brow of concern after him, but...attention back to the matter at hand. To Hactor, a small smile is offered from the visit, "Sir, I assure you, should I need signs of courtesy, I can find a way of getting it without aide, but thank you for the gesture." And, to Skipper, a warm grin, and a voice suddenly lacking any trace of a cultured accent, "Shall we eat, Skip? I'm 'Lady Bree,' but, so for the beasts of my own heart - us lazies, a simple Bree will do fine for me."
Hactor watches Jirael go and gives him a slight bow as he passes. On hearing Bree's sudden change in acent and demeanor he grins and cocks an eyebrow. Holding an arm out torwards the doors he says, "Shall we m'lady. And you Skidder if you must."
Skipper's stride takes on a bit of a swagger, having apparently left Hactor without a good comeback. Bree recaptures his attention, causing the otter to squint at first. Well, that's unexpected. "You ain't as full-of-it as yer fuddy-duddy hubby, Bree. I like that." He waves to Hactor. "Lead on, Foxbutt. Hope I don't have to sit by ya."
Bree gives Skipper a little wink, "Not all folks with titles are a high-up." And with that, and a smile of gratitude at Hactor for the held open door, she heads into the Great Hall.
RW Abbey: Great Hall
The Great Hall of Redwall Abbey. Countless paw falls have echoed from these stones, and untold numbers of feasts and merry gatherings have been held here. A table, not nearly so grand or large as its predecessors, but quite functional for mealtimes, rests near the center of the hall. Chairs exist here aplenty, and they are all of a matching set. High above, the stain glass windows give the Great Hall a beautiful appearance. The glasswork is exceptionally done, crafted by a skilled artist. The floor is clean and swept. A fire is kept burning in the fireplace at almost all times of the day and night, and there are several more comfortable chairs and cushions set up here, of varying sizes. One looks large enough to easily accommodate a badger.
The Tapestry hangs proud and tall, and while the rest of Redwall may still bear the scars of natural disaster, this most famous of Redwall's relics remains unharmed by beast, time, or the elements. The figure of Martin the Warrior seems to be watching over his own with an unchanging, kindly gaze.
You can make out nothing through the large windows except the faintest glimmer of stars above the smudge of dark that is the Abbey's walls. Soft blue moonlight is trickling down from the windows above.
Exits/Entrances:
[K]itchen [St]airs [C]avern [H]ole
[Li]brary [En]try [B]reezeway
The Great Hall is looking beautiful this evening, with candlelight banishing every shadow. A large, and extravagant feast has been prepared, consisting of succulent fish, october ale, and many other delecacies. The Warlord took his place at the head of the table.
"Well, lookit Ruingate. Making royalty out of commoners, but still so uptight about the whole fox thing. How progressive," Skipper kids to Bree, following her into the Great Hall. He waits 'till she's settled in at the table before taking a seat too.
"Ah nutcrumbles," Treaglo mumbles to herself. She just /had/ to watch their every move outside. And now she's late, left staring at the group after bursting quickly through the doors of the kitchen, out-of-breath. Out of ideas or excuses (they seem to be the only ones left for socializing in the entire hall), she slowly walks over to the table with a slight bit of dejection. She settles herself nearer to the vixen and Skipper than Hactor, glancing curiously over to them, also knowing she probably seems out-of-place. "I assume you're not here t'get us all, or you pro'lly woulda done so already, right?" She asks in the new beasts' general direction with a nervous, friendly smile. Hey, she's here, why not talk?
Bree's grin turns back to Skipper, and...she can't resist. She sticks her tongue out. Then, however, she gives a quick glance toward Hactor, clearly searching for any sign that her momentary lapse was noticed. And, speaking to Hactor, and slipping back into a more proper manner, "The feast looks fantastic, Sir. It's unfortunate that Jirael can't enjoy it with us, but I'll be certain to press upon him how much effort was clearly put into giving us such a generous and warm welcome." And then, brown eyes fix on the squirrel. After a momentary sizing up, another smile is given, "Not at all, Lady Squirrel. We just came to see for ourselves how everyone here was getting on."
Hactor notices the breif spectacle but only chuckles softly. He nods to her replieng, "Not at all m'lady. It is a pleasure having you and you're husbands company." On noticing the squirrel he doesn't say anything, but just stares more amused than angry.
Skipper hops on the tail-end of Bree's answer to Treaglo, unable to resist the opportunity. "How we're gettin' on? Yer fellow fox here rudely asserted himself on peace-lovin', habit-wearin' folks. He's since been usin' this place as a base of operations, plunderin' the forest around the abbey and bullyin' its beasts into healin', cleanin', and cookin' for him and his smelly army. So how're we gettin' on? Just dandy really."
Skipper adds with a wry look down the table at Hactor. "And better still, he's got the audacity to think he's doing nothin' wrong."
Treaglo giggles quietly at the fox lady. First of all, she stuck out her tongue. Yes, she noticed, and it looks quite comical on such an elegant face as hers. Second, she was just called 'Lady Squirrel'. Her little smile turns into a grin, but she looks at Hactor and his stare...her face suddenly and very quickly becomes serious. She whimpers before she could help it, but tries desperately to look determined as he stares at her. The attempt is a failure with a face like hers. She focuses back on the vixen, nodding at Skipper's comment. "It's true," she whispers to the fox.
Hactor replies curtley to Skipper, "Your claims are more exagerated then the smell of my army sir. We /have/ been treating you well." Looking to Treaglo he asks, "Would you say we've been crule to you? Have we not fed and taken care of you when we could have taken you and thrown you al out?"
Bree's ears flick slightly, eyes turning intently to each creature speaking, taking it in. A look to Hactor, "...Might I ask, Sir, what sort of force have you been using, now that you've gained control of the Abbey?"
Skipper stares incredulously at Hactor. He blurts, overlapping with Bree: "-You- feed -us-? You outrageous, pompous fool. Redwallers feed themselves with the food they've grown, they've fished, and they've baked. They also feed -yer army- with that very same food. Food -yer army- ain't grown, fished, or baked."
Treaglo blinks with wide eyes. She's never actually talked to Hactor before. She's awkwardly silent for a moment, then replies softly while looking down at the table. "Well, er, I've really been left to take care of m'self...it's really us that're taking care o'your beasts, sir. But...uh, I thank you for not...um, killin' us...?" She glances to the excited Skipper with still-wide eyes.
Hactor shakes his head at the otter deciding to ignore him all together. He manages to catch the vixen's word then replies, "We punish those that disrupt order, or cause harm to others. We do /not/ go killing willy nilly." He was about to take a sip of his ale when he heard Treaglo answer him. He turned to her a look of understanding crossing his stern features. He set his drink down and replied softly, and calmly, " I'll make sure my army starts to pull it's own weight then. Lady Squirrel." He then whent back to hi meal.
Treaglo is gazing a the table, but a look of confusion is upon her face. Vermin Warlords aren't supposed to be nice to their enemies, aren't they? She steals a glance to Hactor's evil-looking features, not sure how to address him anymore. He's surely killed many others in his past...eh. This time the 'Lady Squirrel' doesn't really humor her. She waits on Skipper's reaction, pouring some cordial for herself and the vixen. Just trying to be kind to guests, suppose. "Oh, uh, never got your name, there, marm. I'm Treaglo Wooderfirr." She says this quietly, trying not to let the other fox hear it well.
Bree takes a small sip from a glass of red wine, then, again to Hactor, "...Perhaps, it might be a good gesture, to have your men dedicated to some form of reparations for a time? Anything they've destroyed, have it fixed. And any wrongs, strive to right them? If you mean well, the actions of you and those who follow you had best strive to demonstrate it, within reason, I should think. Though - you certainly have more experience here than I. What do you think, Sir?" And, to Treaglo, a warm smile, "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Treaglo. I am Lady Bree Soulslash, /but/...you've got permission to call me Bree. 'Lady' and 'Bree' are two words that don't sound like they fit, so best not to fit them when it can be avoided, I think." And, turning a gaze to Skipper, "If either of you wish a private audience to speak your mind, my husband, Lord Regent Jirael Soulslash, and I, would be happy to accommodate."
Skipper snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn't even touch the fish. Which for an otter is saying a lot. "Ya just don't get it, do ya? Redwall ain't yers. It ain't mine, it ain't even the Redwallers'. It exists to feed and nurse the sick, wounded, and lost. It ain't for anyone to claim as their own. So just by bein' here, yer upsettin' the way things are. Yer impeding Redwall's function in Mossflower. In short, ya have to go."
The bullheaded Skipper does cast Bree a glance, the idea of a private audience enough to break his concentration momentarily. But he's too caught up in the moment to add a cheeky comment. ".. Heh."
Hactor sips his ale still ignoring Skipper. He's herd this otters song and dance enough. He replies to Bree, "Yes I think that would be for the best. And I might add that if the Abbey doesn't belong to anyone than why should it matter who runs it for a tick? "
Treaglo nods in slight amusement at...Bree. Then her thoughts wander to the vixen's last name, Soulslash- doesn't have the most appealing ring to it. But she smiles at her, for she seems nice enough. The squirrelmaid listens intently to Skipper's lecture then, taking in every word. Never thought of it like that.
Bree stands up, giving an apologetic dip of the head to those present, "My most sincere apologies, but, if there's no objection, I'd like to excuse myself to check on my husband. I'm afraid it was a fair bit of traveling, and I'd like to be certain he's doing well."
Skipper snaps. "Because it don't get -run- by anyone. These Abbeybeasts act out of good will and kind nature. Yer impeding that in yer ridiculous attempt at being somethin' bigger than you are. You -ain't- a king, Foxbutt. Yer an old, dyin' fool."
Skipper's eyes flicker to Bree. But he doesn't say good-bye. He's a bit worked up.
Hactor stands himself bowing deeply. He replies, "Not at all m' lady."
Hactor watching Bree leave then turns to Skipper and whispers only for him to hear, "If you don't hold your tounge..I'll be ablidged to hold it for you. An that's a promis." He then begins eating again as if he had been discussing the weather.
Bree hesitates at Skipper's outburst, though Hactor's words are too soft for her to hear. She bites a lip, then, "...Skip. Will you speak with me tomorrow?"
Treaglo smiles a very small smile at Bree, waving animatedly. "G'night, missus, er, Bree. She then chooses a dessert, not tired enough to leave yet, though not exactly confortable.
Skipper's stare locks on Hactor. "And I'll be obliged to finish what I started the night Martin made yer knees shake." He doesn't look away from the old fox, though one ear flickers in recognition of Bree's request. His jaws clench, then relax. ".. Yeah, maybe."
Hactor continues to eat, deep in his own thoughts.
Bree gives a small nod, then, a curtsy to Hactor, "Sir, a marvelous gesture would be to allow the creatures of the Abbey to finish this generous feast you've set out. Thank you, once more, for your fine hospitality. Good night, Sir." One more moment of hesitation, and the vixen slips off.
Skipper remains stone-faced, staring down the infuriating warlord. With an abrupt grunt, the otter pushes away from the table. "Yer a fool, Hactor. And yer undoing's closer than yer own nose. Enjoy the fish." He then turns to leave the Great Hall.
Hactor continues eating and looks up to the squirrelmaid. His visage has a hint of sadness to it. He then looks quickly back to his food and says, "I sappose you are going to leave me to finish this meal to?"
Treaglo eyes Hactor, then Skipper, and quickly gets up to intercept him. She looks him in eyes with kind-heartedness. "Hey, y'know, it's not worth gettin' all worked up 'bout all the time. He /is/ a fool...but why give him th'time of day, then? Once you get your forces together, then you can do something about this predicament. Not that I know much, but I say that actions speak louder than words." She tells him this extremely quietly, so Hactor doesn't hear at all. She looks down, shuffling her footpaws. "S'rry if I sound stupid, I just don't think he's worth it. I just want t'help, y'know? Oh, and g'night, Skipper." She smiles shyly as she turns her head and gets back to the table.
Hactor continues eating, looking as old and tired as ever. He is happy that this opertunity for diplomacy has arrived. But he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time....lonliness."
Skipper stiffens as Treaglo moves to stop him. His dark look softens some when she speaks, but only some. "Heh. Because before I slay him, I want him to know why I've done it." He shoulders past the squirrel, calling over his shoulder. "Good evenin', marm." And out the door he soldiers.
Treaglo listens to Skipper's reply, not suprised at all. Just thought she'd speak her mind for once. She sits back down in her seat, and notices Hactor. But a very old, weakening Hactor. She studies his face for a moment, then asks him out-of-the-blue, "Why do these things happen? Why did you interrupt the lives of perfectly content creatures? How does that make you happy? I don't get it. There's too much confusion in this place." She stares at the floor, not exactly sure why she asked a Warlord that.
Hactor looks up, rather surprised at the voice. He had thought evreyone had left the hall. He thought for a long hard moment. Finalley he replied, "I don't know. I simply don't know." He then turned back to his food and said, "And that worries me."
Kevarr sidles into the hall. She's moving just a little stiffly, and currently in the process of rubbing the back of her neck. Someone looks as though she's just woken up, probably for a nighttime guard shift.
Treaglo stares at him. For a long time. "Why worry? You /must/ know of the many battles that have gone on between Redwall and vermin, and though I've only read of them, I can tell that Martin is /no joke/. He'll always protect this Abbey, and there is no stopping him. No evil will ll ever take this place forever, so what's the point of stayin'? You'll eventually die, and it will be because you dared t'take over Redwall. Why don't you jus' leave right now, huh?" Her confidence had risen due to the fox's mannerisms, but she sees the marten come in. She sips some cordial, hiding her face for a moment.
Hactor snaps his head up quickly and stands, nearly tipping his seat backwards. He has both paws on the table now and replies keeping his tone even, "Because I want to be remembered for something damnit! Be it good or bad I will not fade away so easily into history! Beasts have tried to kill me. This disease is trying to kill me! And old age is trying to kill me! So let your ghost come, but I /will/ not fade so easily!" He then plopped back down in his seat and stared at the floor.
Kevarr pauses mid-stretch, then straightens. She regards Hactor with a thoughtful expression for a long moment.
Treaglo sits back in her chair abruptly, watching and listening to the old fox. She still sees the marten but replies softly to Hactor. "I...I understand. I think ev'rybeast wants t'be remembered for something, it's jus'...I don't think you made the best choice. You may be remembered, but it'll be mostly with defeat as well as momentary success." She keeps her gaze on Hactor, but her mind is on the other beast now, wondering why she's here.
Hactor sighs deeply. He thinks to himself if this is what he wants. Of course it is he's sure of that. But he's also sure that the squirrelmaid is right. And that hurts more than any wound he has ever received. Perhaps without Anba here to poison his judgment he was seeing things clearly. Still staring at the floor he finally said, "You have something to report captain?"
"No, chief," the marten replies, throwing a firm salute. "Just woke up and ready to head out to the walls in a bit, unless you've got another job that's more pressing."
Treaglo watches the marten. She recognizes her, but...doesn't seem they were introduced. Eh, not like it matters much. She must have heard what she said though..."'Ello," she says meekly.
Hactor still staring at the floor asks Kevarr, "No no you're doing fine." He then stood and walked slowly to the stares. Before leaving he said with his back to the two, "I feel tired. Thank you for the conversation Lady Squirrel."
Kevarr nods at Hactor's back. "Sleep well, Chief. I'll make sure to kick any sentries sleeping on the job."
Hactor replied hastily facing Kevarr, "No!..uh no just ....tell them to be more careful." He then left quickly without another word.
Treaglo gazes at Hactor's retreat, still sensing his weaknesses and...just something else. "Uh, my...pleasure," she replies. "I guess," she then mutters to herself, her eyes on the marten but her head bowed, munching on bread and butter.
Kevarr's expression turns even more curious. "Huh." Her ear flicks to the squirrel.
Treaglo's eyes glance back and forth from the table to the other beast quickly, and several times, unsure. "Hello...'gain. Wouldja like somethin' t'eat?" Her voice is soft-spoken and slightly anxious.
Kevarr shakes herself, and grunts. "No, not quite hungry at the moment." She does eye the considerable spread, however.
Treaglo furrows her brows, also studying her face. "Here." She shoves a plate of food in the marten's direction. "Please. Not like it's going anywhere special." The squirrelmaid looks back at her plate, pausing a moment, then asks, "So what are you called, if y'don't mind me askin'?"
The marten eyes the plate with mild suspicion before she responds. "Grey. I'm his captain." She jerks a thumb over her shoulder toward the stairs.
Treaglo nods, her 'head-bowed, eyes-up' thing still present. "Grey? Mmm, so I s'ppose you've been followin' him awhile, then?" She pushes a different plate of food towards Grey slowly, her head lifting. "Y'look hungry. That's all." She comments under her breath, frowning a bit at the marten's hesitance. Nobody trusts anybody around here anymore.
Kevarr gives a slight, raspy laugh. "Not actually, no. Joined up shortly before we came here."
Treaglo's eyebrow raises a little at Grey's laugh. "How'd y'come to be a captain, then? Sure he's got enough fox generals to last him awhile..." Every time, it seems, those foxes are ever mentioned, the squirrelmaid gives a shiver. This is no exception.
Kevarr looks vaguely amused. "Maybe he got bored of foxes? But really, those aren't his so much. They're Anba's, and Anba's kind've openly less than loyal to Hactor." She shrugs. "Maybe I impressed him? Took some initiative."
Treaglo sighs. "I...see. Well, I'm gettin' pretty bored of foxes too." She stops herself, remembering the Abbey Champion and his wife. "Er, the bad ones anyway," she corrects herself. Sitting there in silence, she thinks of something she forgot. "M'name's Treaglo...um, Wooderfirr, that is. Jus'...f'reference." The squirrelmaid furrows her eyebrows again, but at her own clumsy wording this time.
Kevarr leans casually on the table, ears twitching. She still doesn't touch the food. "So which ones are the bad ones?"
Treaglo looks up at Grey fully, noticing first the untouched food, then moving her gaze up to the marten's face. Her eyes are narrowed slightly in confusion, one eyebrow quirked lightly. "Well...isn't that kinda, apparant? What do ya mean?"
"Not really," the marten replies. "Why don't you enlighten me?"
Treaglo looks down to the table, her face the picture of bemusement and deep thought. She scratches her head. "Um...uh, well what 'bout the fox you mentioned...Anba? Yeah, and all his foxes...they're...evil. From my point o'view, and most everybeasts', I think." She pauses. "And Hactor, he's the leader, he's...bad. I suppose. Right?" She glances up questioningly. "I still don't quite understand..."
Kevarr waves her remaining paw. "Anba and his lot are insane, and there isn't any good any of us are going to get with them here. And whatever you think of Hactor, he's at least better than Anba, and he's the one keeping them in check."
Treaglo crosses her arms on the table. "But...what's you're point? I assumed most o'what you told me...and I dunno 'bout that new fox clan. Why do you ask anyway?"
Kevarr shrugs. "You brought it up. I'm just making conversation."
Treaglo smiles a small half-smile. "Heh, guess you're right. Have you ever heard o'those other foxes by the'way, eh...Jirael, I think? And his mate Bree. The talked real polite, I thought it was kinda strange...the leader seemed pretty impor'ant."
There's the slightest, barely detectable twitch in Kevarr's expression, which goes away rather quickly. "Jirael? Not sure the name rings a bell. Why?"
"Oh, not much reason...I'm not sure what t'think of them. I wonder what they plan on doin' here...have you heard of Ruingate? He mentioned that too." She grabs a candied chesnut from one of Grey's plates and pops it into her mouth silently.
Kevarr wrinkles her nose faintly. "Aye, I've heard of Ruingate. Run by yet another bunch of foxes that think they're pretty much living aksha."
Treaglo hms. "Well apparantly he's some kinda leader o'that place. What's /with/ these tons of foxes? Wonder why martens never get th'glory..." She smiles a little.
Kevarr coughs, looking a little uncomfortable. "Maybe 'cause we haven't tried setting ourselves up as gods yet. That'd be my guess."
Treaglo smirks. "Gods, then. Interesting..." She eyes the marten up and down for a moment, who can't really take a joke. Or eat anything. "Why are /you/ here, Grey? Is it really only the food and shelter...? You gotta know you won't be here long, so why do take orders from a sick ole fox?"
This time, the marten gives a very, very faint, sly smile. "Oh, I don't know. I might be here a lot longer than you'd think. And like I said, better the sick old fox than the /really/ sick, younger fox."
Treaglo sees that smile. These vermin are hard to understand. "I s'posse I agree there. But...what do you mean by 'a lot longer than you think'? It's not like th'Abbey's going to be taken for good. Not all woodlanders are so peaceful...you might've noticed a couple rebels around these very grounds, 'cause I have."
Kevarr shrugs in a fashion that may be somewhat maddening. "We'll see. See, if there's one thing I've learned from my seasons, it's that life has this really funny way of going in ways you didn't ever expect."
Treaglo crinkles her nose, squinting hard at Grey. "Ok, sure. I...well, all I know is that we /will/ be protected. I /know/ it. There's no way that good creatures can be overcome completely...and Redwall is the symbol. I dunno what you're really talkin' about, but..." She gets up, stares at the /still/ unaccepted food that she had offered earnestly, and begins to slowly head away from the table, towards the stairs. "Good dreams, Grey."
"Not tonight," the marten replies. "I'm on duty." As Treaglo turns her back, however, Kevarr's smile becomes a little more genuine, faintly amused at some joke only she's privy to.
Treaglo sighs and turns her head ever-so-slightly, glancing back from the corner of her eye for just a moment. She doesn't really notice the smile. Her head is full of unanswered questions, and the marten doesn't clear anything up. Yes, the squirrelmaid's young, and she wasn't raised here, but she knows that the only thing the Abbey needs is happiness again...not more foxes. Bad foxes, that is. She ambles off to her bunk.
