The Otter and the Snake (Complete)

The River Moss

~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%< The River Moss >~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%

The long and winding river starts to get slightly more narrow at this point, drawing towards some large rocks, that are not really as menecing as they seem. The trees starts to weave together and become denser as you are taken down stream.

The trees of the forest move gently in the breeze.

~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~

The morning dew still clings to the grass as Lutea sets out for her stroll. This land is new to her, and she stops to examine even the mundane clumps of moss that cling to damp stones and soft bark. The otter walks, her staff in paw, down the river slowly, a soft smile gracing her muzzle as the orange glow of daylight streams through the tree tops, bouncing from the river and shimmering off the silver scales of the fish below its surface. It is a peaceful day for the newcomer, without a danger in sight...

The morning is only highlighted by the sound of buzzing insects, chirping birds and the fresh smell of smoke on the horizon. There, further along the river is a small camp. Two bed rolls around a small camp fire that is still smoldering. It's vermin, if the half eaten carcass of a wood pigeon roasting over the fire on a spit is any indication. There is no sign of the vermin however.

The camp inspires no small amount of caution in the tattooed female, and as she catches scent of the smoke she dives, silently into the river. Only the top of her head peeks out as she slithers toward the camp, brow furrowed. While she may not bear ill will toward vermin based on their species, she is still cautious when outside the safe confines of villages and towns. The absence of the owner of the camp disturbs her, and beneath the water's surface she pulls her dagger free.

The birds and insects become quiet, but whether it’s from the otter’s presence or...something else is not quite clear. The only sounds coming from the camp come from just beyond the bushes across from the river, under the canopy of the forest. There is a panicked gasp and an unseen beast lets out an estranged yell, "NO! You...you don't have to...do this. Please! Grk!"

The otter is off in a flash, the sinewy brown creature a blur beneath the water's surface where she is in her element. Her dagger clenched in her fist, she shoots from the water's surface like a furry missile, and takes cover behind a tree. Slowly, she peers around its trunk, pulling her staff free from her sash once more with no sound.

From here most of the scene before the otter is hidden. There is something, something large, with dark green scales. A serpent, a whiptail snake coiled tightly about its prey. Embedded into the creatures back are shafts of arrows, broken spears, and twisted blades of weapons that failed to kill the beast. A single fog covered eye glances out to the world beyond, hardly paying attention to the poor creature trapped in its coils.

The brown weasel makes a serious of pathetic gasping noises as the snake tightens its grip on him. "Do...do notsss. DoessSSss not matter. Everyone'sss sstory mussst come to itsss eventual end...."

The weasel makes a fine yelp. There is a loud snap as the weasel bends in three different directions. His body tenses before falling limp. "And your's endsSSs as my dinner..." The snake flicks his tongue into the air before letting the weasel drop to the ground, "I do wonder if /you/ would like to be dessert." If he is talking to the otter, he is not facing her.

Lutea's blood runs cold. So this is the serpent...this is the beast. With a deep breath she emerges, her cover already blown. She stands little chance against a creature of this caliber, armed with only a hooked staff and her short dagger; and with the reptile's sense of smell and heat as strong as it is, she gains nothing from cowering in the shadows. "I would rather not." She answers the snake, honestly, her posture straightening despite the flight instinct building in her muscles.

The serpent croaks in laughter. Still not facing her, the snake flicks his tongue and smiles, "Well said." The snake tilts his head in her general direction. It looms high above the otter. "You musssst be rather brave...thisss issSSSs usually the part where the sscreaming beginsss." The serpent squints his one eye, "You're not going to try and bargain for your life, are you? I really do hate that..."

"I don't 'ave much te bargain with, but at leas' I made a good first impression." She tries to pull her lips back into a smile but manages only to twitch her muzzle. "But I dinna wan' to disturb yer meal..." She nods to the mangled vermin corpse. "Tha' would be...rude of me." /RUN/ her body screams, though her paws remain still. /RUN, you idiot!/ Every fiber of her being urges her, but still she stands, clutching a staff and a small dagger in the face of this large adversary.

The snake cackles again. The laughter echoes through the woods. His head tilts upward, a smile on his lips, "How very polite. I hardly eversss get to talk with worthy prey these dayssss." The snake leans forward over the weasel's corpse. "And eating a meal isss much more enjoyable with companiessSss. So I will make /you/ a bargin. Tell me a sssstory. Tell me a good ssstory, and you will not lunch..."

It is hard to argue with a snake, and the otter knows that she has no other choice that does not involve a short sprint and a painful death. "Alright, then." Lutea gulps, and against the wish of her body [and mind, for that matter] settles against the trunk of the tree. "I will tell ye the story of how I came te be banished from my village in the North." The otter clears her throat, and slides her staff into its place against her back as a show of good companionship. Just because her companion is a massive, beast-eating, bone-breaking, horrifying snake does not mean that he is not due common courtesy, right? ....Right? "The chieftain had te him two children, a daughter and a son, both betrothed te marry, but the daughter, she dinna love him to which she was promised..."

The serpent tilts his head to the side. As he listens he glances down to where the weasel has fallen. His body begins to coil around the weasel's corpse and it takes a while before he can find his head. Ageless the snake simply, listens, as he opens his mouth wide around the weasel's head. He hesitate to say, "Do go on. ThisSSs will be a bit mesSSsy..."

CHOMP! The weasel's head dissapears into snakes mouth, followed by the rest of his broken corpse.

Don't puke, don't puke, don't puke... Lutea struggles to keep her breakfast down, and laughs a high pitched, nervous laugh. "Hah - r-right, er, where was I? Oh, yes. She dinna love him to which she was promised, an' the son dinna love tha maid he was te wed either. They tried to talk their father out of the arrangement, bu' 'e was certain tha'twas in the best interests of tha village." The otter clears her throat. "Now, this was a family of...much secrecy, an' the chief, 'e dinna know tha' his son and daughter both snuck out to meet their true loves in the night. They would take turns sneakin' ou', so the othah could covah for the othah." She nods, sadly. "The day of the weddin's came, an' they were to be wed all at once in a big ceremony. The entiah village was there, drinkin' and partyin' - but the chief's children knew only sadness. When it came time for the daughter to say her vows, she stahted cryin', and apologized to the village. She said 'I've been lyin', an' I cannae marry this man, for my heart belongs to another', and she pointed into the crowd. This was where the fightin' started, for when she pointed into the crowd, she revealed the beast she had been truly in love with, sneakin' out te see, and it was then tha' she an' her brother realized tha' they 'ad been sneakin' out te see the same beast." She smirks, proudly. "An', ah, that's where I come in."

The snake gags on his food. There is a long coughing process as Ageless seems to choke on his food, the weasel's legs still hanging out of his mouth. He beats at his chest with his tail once, then twice, until the weasel's limp body is coughed up fully, landing a few feet from where the otter is resting. "W-what?" He gasps for breath. "I've lived many ssseasons girl...plauged by many ssseassons of ssnake hunterss...non have ever come asSSs closse asSSs you did to slaying me with that heart attack..."

"H-Ha?" She has to shut her eyes and look away for a moment to keep her stomach in check as a missile of dead weasel comes her way, and even then it barely works. She pointedly avoids looking at the carcass, refocusing her attention on the gasping snake. "Sticks an' stones may break ye bones, bu' words will almos' kill ye?" She tries, rewriting the sing-song rhyme to her purposes. "Naturally, tha chief wanted my 'ead, mah dad 'elped sneak me out an' I was chased fer awhile bu' I escaped eventually."

The snake narrows his one good eye as much as he is physically capable of doing so. He cracks a smile, perhaps the first in a long, long time. "I don't...remember my father...I do remember my hatchingssss though." His smile fades. The snakes tail stretches out until it wraps around the leg of the weasel, pulling it closer. "Your ssstory...was intertaining. AsSSss promisssed...I will spare you from lunch...and have you for dinner." The snake wraps tightly around the weasel, his smile returning, "Good bye otter and thank you for the company..." The snake bites down deep into the weasels hide, again. His smile begins to fade. "Thisssss...thisss is not an otter."

And /that/ is her cue to go. While he's confused, Lutea scrambles upright, her dagger pointed at the snake as she frantically backs away. If she can get to the water, she has a chance - a slight one, at least. She turns and breaks into a sprint (probably the fastest she's ever run) and as a last ditch effort dives, heart pounding, at the river. She goes under with nary a splash, her aerodynamic body slicing into the current like a silent spear.

A look of surprise over comes the snake as he turns quickly to the splash. His tongue flicks in the air and he grins mischievously. His grin turns into a loud echoing laugh. "Clever otter." He says as he turns back to the meal before him. So one otter got away. No matter. Where there is one otter there are always more...