The Continued Misadventures of a Squirrel (John may or may not be on the verge of being a sociopath)
John, a Squirrel
Bandit, as everyone else.
The Continued Misadventures of a Squirrel
The sun had gone down below the clouds by now, and it was dusk - or very near to it. The waves crash upon the shore, a steady and calming rhythm. A vast expanse of sand stretches to both horizons, though a cliff can be just made out to the far west. A small grove of trees spreads itself along the shore, the chirping of nighttime creatures and the fluttering of birds can be heard. All in all, it is a rather peaceful place.
A single camp fire lights up the shore line like a becon. A single creature lays sprawled out on his side, noisily chomping down on cooked fish. A small pile of bones form to his right and there appear to be still more fish on the spit over the fire.
The lone creature was an oddity. A cross fox his underbelly was black with orange sides and a grey flank. He wore only a long flowing loin cloth and shark tooth necklace.
He was also a very, very well fed beast with a pot belly many paws wide and flesh wrapping about every part of his person.
He ate noisily, chomping away at his meal. He belches once and tosses the fish over his shoulder before selecting another.
A squirrel makes his way down the shore, whistling a merry tune. John draws his cloak closer about himself, though, as it was till cold here. Winter had not fully released the land. And so he makes his long trek away west, his lone footprints trialling behind him only to be washed away by the constant waves. He pauses when he sees the fire, his paw drifting to his sword hilt. Perhaps they were friendly, or perhaps they weren't. Either way, it would be best to avoid them, for now.
The fox let's out a wide toothed yawn after finishing off yet another fish. The portly creature doesn't appear to be armed, aside from what nature gave him in the ways of claws and teeth. The smell of cooking fish fills the beach.
Picking his teeth clean the beast struggles to sit up after his heavy meal and in so doing so glances his way at the stranger down the shore line. He pauses, a look of terror on his face for but a moment before he relaxes, a large toothy cheshire grin on his muzzle.
The fox waves to the stranger before turning back to stoke the fire, prodding it with a stick.
John narrows his eyes, seeing the creature - a fox, he thinks - wave. He continues his walk west, continually getting closer and closer to the fox's campsite.
Once the squirrel get's closer to the fire the fox waves again, "Hellooooo!" He says in a friendly tone. "Come on over stranger! Thar's enough fire for the both of us." Nibbling on a fish the fox gestures to the remaining ones still on the spit, "Enough food as well! Come close and make yerself at home!"
Narrowing his eyes, John stops. He had grown used to beasts wanting to be left alone - the hospitality of the fox seems almost a foreign concept to him. After a few moments, the squirrel sighs, raising a hand to wave back. "Greetings, friend!" He makes his way over to the fire, nodding to the fox.
"Greetings yourself!" The fox wags his tail and squints as he smiles. "You must be mighty lost to find yourself out here. What brings you out tonight?" The fox gestures for the squirrel to take what he needs from the spit. There are still a good six fish left roasting.
John nods in thanks, taking one of the fish and sitting near the fire. He shrugs, answering the fox's question with, "Ah, well...I was rather lost - though, is this thae east sea? If it 'tis, well, I won' be lost for long..." He starts eating. "It's good... I'm heading west, back to where I know a few beasts..." the squirrel takes another bite. "And yerself? what brings you all the way out here?"
The fox doesn't reply at first, not until he strips the fish in his paws clean. Picking his teeth he replies, "Good news is you found the East Sea. Better news is you ran into Jask isntead of some other vermin beasty. These parts arn't kind for little squirrels like yerself. But I have a feeling you already know that," He nods to the squirrel's missing section of his ear. "As for me, I'm just living the good life. Taking in all the sights, the smells, the food, and the wine. Speaking of which." The fox reaches behind him to draw a small leather flask. He rocks it back and forth, offering the squirrel some wine.
John says, "No, they're not..." John nods in thanks again, taking the offered flask and drinking from it. He hands it back, saying, "I see..." He finishes the fish. After a few moments, he breaks the silence, "Ye're no' the first fox I've run into who doesn't want to gut me, y'know."
Jask belts out a laugh, "I am not one for violence. Too much work. A fox should be guided by his foxy wiles, not his sword." Taking the flask he sets it off to the side, never once letting it touch his lips. The smiling fox begins to become blurry, as does the shore line around him. The feeling of loosing feeling in ones limbs can be felt, starting with the paws and working its way through the body, "You look Sleepy mate. Why don't you sit back and relax for a bit while I go grab us some more wood." The fox smiles, "Cause it's going to be a long night..."
John freezes, realizing just what he drank. He curses, loudly, reaching into his cloak and trying to pull out his crossbow. His movements are clumsy, however, as if he were drunk. He hopelessly lifts the crossbow, aiming at the fox, only to realize it's unloaded, and thus, useless. He blinks, trying to comprehend. The ground was looking rather soft and nice, after all... He shook his head, trying to clear his senses, but to no avail. In a last act of defiance, he chucks the wood and steel crossbow at the fox's head, though chances are that he will miss.
Whether or not the crossbow hits is lost as darkness envelops the squirrels vision. There is though a very loud YIPE that can be heard before the tendrils of sleep try to over come the squirrels mind.
The squirrel blinked again, tipping over into the sand. He fell into dark sleep, peaceful, and quiet. Before he completely loses consciousness, he can hear the fox's yelp, and a brief sense of satisfaction passes over him, before he is lost in sleep.
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The morning light filters across the beach. The sound of seagulls can be heard. The fire is long dead and the remaining fish on the spit are burnt to cinders. A tragic loss to be sure.
Not as tragic of course as the beasts surrounding the squirrel where he lays. Lizards, of the monitor variaty surround the squirrel. About five in all. They are also of tribal appearence, dressed in bead vests and leather loin cloths with animal hide cloths wrapped like cloaks over their shoulders. Unlike Jask however these beasts are more muscle than body fat, although they look well fed as well.
(One would wonder what they have been eating to be that way...)
As for John nothing is missing of importance...unless his gold, sword, and cloak are considered important.
One of the monitors prods the squirrel in the belly with the but end of his serrated stone tipped spear. "Time to wake up thief."
The 'thief' groans, his head pounding. After a moment, John does open his eyes, though - and immediately wishes he handn't. "Eh, what?" he asks, rather lamely.
The monitor lizard grins deviously as he prods him again in the stomach, "I hope you ate well of our fish, thief. It will make your meat tender when we roast you over a spit."
The other monitors level their spears at the squirrel's throat, "Why wait to bring him back to campsss. Let'sss kill him here and now..."
John fully awakens now, cursing his luck. "I, uh..." He swallows, think quickly. "Ye wouldn't really want to eat me, mate - I've got no fat! An' Ah spent a few months eating' nothin' but cave moss, which, Ah can tell ye, taste jus' as bad as it sounds." His accent seems to be far more noticeable than before...
The lead monitor lizard, who has red paint under his eyes and in a stripe pattern down his head only laughs, "Well, if you insist then. I sssSSsuppose we will let you live." He gestures for the lizards to drag him to his feet, "A few months of feeding should take care of that problem..."
"Now then, sae 'ere!" John says, rather forcefully, "Ah didn't steal yer fish!" He attempts to pull himself out of the lizard's grasp. "In fact...I think Ah know who yer thief is. Same beast who stole my cloak and sword."
The monitor lizard rolls his eyes, "And now you spit on our mercy with lies." He leans closer towards the squirrel, "Ffffine. I will hear your pleassss. Jussst try not to make them /too/ pathetic..."
John looks around at the ground, searching fro the crossbow. Chances are that was taken by the cursed fox, too. He looks the lizard in the eye, saying, quite calmly, "Do ye really think I'd be stupid enough to travel up here during winter without a cloak? or why am I wearing chainmail if I don' have a sword?"
The lizard raises an eyebrow, "Isss this retorical question?" The other lizards laugh. One of them looks down after his tail brushes against the leather flask the fox left behind. He stoops to pick it up and sniffs at the wine.
"That was strike one by the way. You only have two left before we gag you and haul you back to campssss."
The squirrel nods to the flask. "That flask was used to drug me. In fact, there's probably still some left, if ye want one of yer buddies to prove that I'm telling' thae truth." He swallows, hard. "An', er..." He pauses for the moment, his bravado faltering for a moment, before he says, simply, "The fox was well fed - fat. An', as ye'll are aware, foxes are much larger than squirrels..."
The lizards pause in their laughter. The leader twitches an eye then snatches the flask from the others claws. "H-hey!"
The leader gives it a good sniff for a long moment then sighs, "Jasssssk." The group collectivly sigh, especially after the leader says, "Let him go."
"But...but what about dinner?" One continues to protest.
"We are canibals, not a savages. He's just another one of that beasts victims." He tosses the flask away, spitting on it.
John lets out a deep sigh of relief. "Ah, I thank you." After a moment, John asks, rather out of the blue, "Do ye happen to eat monitor lizards as well then?"
"Yeah, why not?" says one lizard, "You've seen how much meat they have?"
"I say we still gut him." The lizard continues to protest. The leader just sakes his head, "No, we are not going to gut him...we are going to hire him." the leader turns, looming over John, "Jask is a blight on our tribe. He's a pest, stealling from our village. No one has ever caught him. You're things are probbibly lost now, but if you should ever lay your paws on him, bring him to ussss and we well rewardsSSs you well."
John looks nervously at the one wanting to eat him, but he nods to the leader. "Aye, if I run into him again, I'll be sure to."
Now that his life is not in immediate danger, the squirrel seems much more relaxed.
The leader nods he begins to turn away with his lizards in tow. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder with a dangerous glare, "I sspared your life squirrel. That makes you in my debt. And in our tribe beasts always pay up their debts...if not in full, then in the stew pot..." With that lovely little bunch of information the lizards leave John alone.
"Ah, right then...I, uh, see." John says, as the lizards leave. He rubs the back of his neck, looking down at the sand.
After a few minutes of searching, he finds what he is looking for: his crossbow. It's in the same condition as it was when he threw it, surprisingly. John picks it up and searches his belt. His pack is still there, but slightly lighter. He opens it, digging through it. The gold is gone, though everything else, including the quiver of crossbow-bolts, is still there. He takes out a small eating knife, putting it on his belt where his sword usually hangs. As for the quiver, he slings it alongside, and loads the crossbow.
John sets out then, looking at the sand for the fox's - Jask's - paw prints.
He eventually finds them, though they are a bit faded. They head the opposite direction the monitors went. John looks up and at the sandy horizon. "I'm coming for ye, mate."
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The trail leads away from the beach, venturing farther and farther inland. Eventually the trail stops dead at the forrests ridge and a new one appears, probibly not in a way that John will enjoy.
A peice of his cloak is torn on a low hanging branch. Other such branches and twigs can be found broken through out the woods. Not often, but often enough to give a general location of the would be thief.
John curses when he finds the piece. "Couldn't even take care o' it, could ye?" He mutters, to no beast in particular. He shakes his head, following the trail at a brisk pace.
THWACK!
Deeper into the woods the fox hums as he raises the sword high over his head, leaping into the air as he brings it down upon the block of wood. When it get's stuck he uses his paws to break it in half and then place a new block of wood over the tree stump.
There is a small pile of wood to his side, a dead sparrow on the other. The sparrow has a snare over it's neck, a rope that has been cut by a blade.
The forrest is thick here with light filtering through the leaves. The sound of the ocean can still be heard.
John is moving through it at a bit of a slower pace, but still relatively fast. He is taking care to be quiet, though, as the trail is far fresher here. "Come on then, where are ye...?" He mutters to himself.
The sound of the sword chopping wood can be heard through out the wood. As well as the fox's own off key singing. "99 wood pidgeons on the wall, take one down, pass em around, 9...9..." he pauses, rubbing his chin, "90 wood pidgeons on the wall..."
The squirrel stops, hearing the singing, and looks about himself. He starts climbing a tree, as quietly as he can. While he isn't the greatest climber that ever lived - in fact, he's far from it - John is still a squirrel. And thus, he makes it up the oak's trunk with much less less effort than other beasts. From there, he jumps to the next tree, and the next, the noise of which melts into the background of the forest.
The fox never notices. Or at least doesn't appear to. Finishing his pile of wood the fox dusts off his paws then, dances to his song, "King Henery the second I am, king henery the second I am. Big and fat and well fed I'm going to be...la de da le." He stops dancing to pick up a rock and crouch over the pile of logs which has some twigs mixed into it. He scrapes the rock against the side of the sword, causing it to spark. "La de da le...oh merrily merrily merrily may. La de da le..."
When he finally reaches the clearing, he peers down at the fox. The sword'll be blunt if he keep using it like that... John raises the crossbow, aiming for the legs. But, just as he is about to fire, the branch snaps and John slips, cursing. He manages to keep his hold, and the crossbow thankfully doesn't fire, but the squirrel did make quite a racket regaining his footing.
The fox's head swivels upward, eyes wide, tail poofed. "Ah...shhhhhhhhhoot." Jask reaches for the sparrow, dropping the rock as he does. He grabs it by the legs and then tries to dash off into the nearest foilage! "GaAAaaAAaAAaH!
John sets the crossbow off, the bolt missing the fox by inches. He drops down into the clearing, grabbing the few things the fox left behind. He preps the crossbow again.
The fox let's out a yelp as the arrow passes by his head, "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!" He shouts, turning around to give the squirrel a terrified glance. Crossbow, next time he is taking the cross bow. For right now it does give the fox another variable in his survival equation: Big Round Target vs. cross bow...even if the squirrel is a poor shot he doubts the beast will miss forever.
Back against the nearest tree the fox let's out a nervous shout, "Oh! It's you! I was hoping it was you!" Looking down to the sword he raises it above his head, "Oh! I found the fire wood! Even chopped it too! I hope you don't mind if I borrowed your sword to do it!...right? You don't mind...right?"
Smiling humorlessly, John comes closer. "Ye move - or speak - again and the next one is going between yer eyes." He steps closer, but still a safe distance away if the fox decided to use the sword. "And I mean it. Next time ye should probably just kill thae beast ye steal from. But, chances there won't be a next time, aye?"
"Oh," John adds, after a moment, "When we're running from somebody it's best no' tae back yourself into a wall. Or tree."
The fox gulps, laughing nervously as his tail wraps around his legs. He already knows the out come if he tried to run...that leaves one course of action... "Steal? Perish the thought. I was just gathering fired wood, with things I took with out permision...ok yeah I can see how that would constitute stealing in someone's book." Dropping the wood pigeon Jask tosses the sword to the squirrel's feet. The beast still doesn't take off the cloak for fear of getting shot in doing so.
"But look! Everything is returned see?" he gulps, "Before you get any ideas about heh heh, shooting me, keep in mind that I could have just as easily killed you when you were asleep...but I didn't. I'm nice like that."
"Well, Ah'm not." He fires the crossbow, the bolt very much heading for Jask's right foot.
The fox let's out a shriek as the bolt digs into the earth, scraping by his foot paw. Failing his arms he lands flat on his rump, "Stop! Don't shoot! Ok! I stole from ya! But I had...reasons! Completely selfish reasons of course but, none so bad to kill me for it, right right?" His ears fall flat, "You...you arn't going to shoot me...are you?"
John shrugs, bending down and picking up the sword. "Nah..." He raises the blade, the end pointed at the fox. "Ye are, after all, much more use to me alive."
Leaning away from the sword Jask tries to push the blade away with the tip of his claw, "Don't get me wrong, I am very, very, veryveryvery thankfull that I am more usefull alive, but I find meself wondering...whyyyyyy?"
"Tell me," the squirrel asks, rather brightly considering the situation, "How do ye fancy being eaten by a pack o' lizards ye used to steal from?" he holds the sword closer, the tip just barely brushing the fox's neck.
The fox swollows but it get's stuck around the point of the sword tip. "Ah, you've been talkin with the tribe I see." He waves a paw idly in the air, "They are a funny bunch. They have been hunting me for years, trying to toss me into a stew pot of theirs. Why would you..." His eyes widen before they narrow. "You. Wouldn't."
"Oh, Ah would." John replies, his voice cold. "Now give me thae cloak, and anything else ye stole from me. Or do ye want to end up over a fire?" He adds, "Or maybe I may just shoot ye in the leg and leave ye be..."
The fox whimpers, "Wait...just...wait." He holds up his paws defensively, "No need for violence...or bringing me to the lizards for dinner. I'll give you back your things but the money I stole is back at camp, and I need me legs to get me there. Less you plan to carry me." He says with a smile. It disspears quickly. "I'm taking off the cloak now...please don't shoot me in the face fer it." The fox does as he is commanded, giving the cloak to the squirrel.
John takes the cloak, setting it on the ground nearby. He laughs. "Funny thing, I have my money pouch right here." he pats his pack. "So, any more ways ye have for weaseling yer way out of this?"
The fox raises an eyebrow, then flatly says, "I have a stong box back at camp. It's where I keep all the more valuable possesions before selling them in town." Cautiously the fox stands up, "Let me live and I can show you where my camp is..."
The squirrel rolls his eyes. "I know where yer camp is. What exactly did i just chase ye from?" John gestures with his sword. "Turn around and face tree, in case ye have anything more on ye."
The fox does what he is told, untieing the sword belt and scabbard from his waist. How it fit is...really anyone's guess. "Not THAT camp. MY camp. My HOME." He glances over his shoulder while facing the tree, "What? Do you think I'm just going to keep every worldly possesion I own there on the beach where every neardowell theif is going to come by and take it?" Shaking his head the fox says, "My camp is set deeper into the woods, not too far from here. I was just...being lazy and decided to cook supper here and now."
"Ye know what?" John asks, tossing the belt and scabbard aside, "Ah don't like stealing, especially if it's already stolen." He raises the sword hilt, bringing it down upon the fox's head, hard. "An' that, that's repayment for the headache yer wine caused me."
The fox slumps against the tree before falling flat against his back out cold with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Jask has no witty comback for being knocked up side the head.
And knocked out.
John nods in satisfaction. He turns, gathering his things strung about the forest floor. As he ties his belt about him again, this time scabbard and sword in place, he looks at Jask. "Ah now ye can't here me, but, ye really should rethink yer life. Or I might just go tell the lizards where ye live." His work here done, he brushes his paws together, before turning, and leaving the way he came - no doubt to loot the camp the fox left behind...
