The Silent Blades go once more into the long Silence.
Anthony sneers at the ferret, not lowering his sword an inch as he gestures to the storm with his free paw. "I'm here out of necessity, much like the other upstanding beasts caught in the middle of the slaughter /you/ started down there. For that alone, we are /far/ from even. And I'm afraid you won't find me as easily bought as your former 'gang'." He narrows his eyes as Meesha begins to reach behind her back. He can't be sure what she's after...but he highly doubts it's money.
In the end, it doesn't matter.
So, some back story on this. This log was actually completed a while ago, for the most part at least. Me and another player needed to finish one last thing before we posted it and it took a while to find the time to do so simply due to real life.
This ICLY takes place about...a month ago, give or take. A few weeks after Meesha the ferret robbed the Chieftain's Office in Farrival.
It is a very rough, un-eddied log filled with grammar errors and dice rolls. Yes, dice rolls. Don't worry if they don't make sense, we just used them to decide how the next action would go.
PART 1
Cold, blistery winds howled against the woods this night. The snow was wet and heavy, it would not last until tomarrow, but that was tommarrow. Tonight the snow didn't just blanket mossflower, it smothered it.
Along against the backdrop of darkness a single light shone upon the blizardy road, like a beacon in the night ferrying wayward travelers to safty. Unfortunetly the warm provided by the Black Gull Tavern was anything but safe.
Even through the noise the storm that raged outside, sounds of partying and jubulation could be heard. The tavern was packed, full to the brim with beasts of all callibure. Most were of course vermin and not just in species but in mannor and walk of life. Cut throats, brigands, bandits, and plain old thugs filled the tavern's center and the bar. The corners were taken up by the few woodlanders who were desperate enough to seek shelter from the storm. They huddled together, nervously passing glances at the vermin around them, as if the beasts would come to mug them, or worse, at a moments notice. Which in truth, was certainly a possibility...
Much to his dismay, the storm has forced Anthony the otter to take refuge in the shady establishment, tucked away in his own corner and gently nursing a mug of apple cider. He does his best to maintain an air of unconcern, slouched in his seat - yet his reddish eyes scan the room carefully, and his paw rests intentionally on the hilt of his broadsword. The amount of concentrated villainy in this place disgusts him, frankly. If he were to meet half these beasts out on the road, he wouldn't think twice before ending their wretched existences. But the storm outside came up quickly, and he was ill prepared - his fur may be water resistant, but the cold is another matter - and this was the only place for miles to take refuge. And since even he cannot take them on all at once...the otter simply bides his time. Admittedly, this isn't the first time he's had to come to the Black Gull, and it probably won't be the last, so he might as well enjoy what he can, and get himself a meal later.
The otter, unfortunetly for him does not go un noticed. It is after all hard not to notice an albino otter, or one wearing plate mail. For the moment though they seem rather focused on one particular table in the center of the room. A large party has gathered here, consisting of several different beasts of ill repute. Most beasts here would be forgettable aside from two or three particular beasts. There is a large muscular fox with scraggly red fur and one eye sitting with his feet kicked up on the table. He is, appearently throwing daggers at a small lanky rat across the room. The rat is dressed in an old tattered squirrel hide vest and visibly cringes each time a dagger plants itself into the wood beam behind him, each drawing closer to hitting the apple on top of his head...and his head itself.
"Ok, once more with out flinching, and your in, Meesha, care to do the honors?" The fox says with a wry smile, showing several of his teeth to be missing.
Next to him sits a grey furred beast, a ferret to be exact. Meesha has done rather well for herself after selling her ill gotten loot taken from the chieftains office. Most of it sold only because the cat had so many enemies willing to have a 'trophey' out of one of his possessions. Otherwise, it would have only bought her a few drinks. As it were though, the ferret clothed herself in finer garments now, with jewlery on her arms and feet and even tail. Her swollen belly also exposed her better eating habbits now.
"I dunno...throwing knives really ain't my thing." The rat visibly sighed...at least until Meesha shrugged and replied, "Sure, why not. Eyepatches seem to be in these days, right kid."
"I...I would really rather not loose an eye." The rat squeeked.
"Non-sense! Evary good ban-dit needs an eye patch. Just look at ol flufftail here."
"Righto! Who doesn't want an eyepatch, right?"
The fox said before flicking a dagger at the rat. He squeeked in terror as it scratched his cheek but to his credit, still managed to keep his composure, even with shaking knees.
Anthony watches with apparent disinterest, since, well...it's that, or watch drunk beasts becoming drunker, and that isn't really all that interesting. He's not sure what to think about the situation - on one paw, the rat almost certainly got himself into this situation on some ill-conceived bet, and if the wretched vermin of this place are intent on killing each other off, so be it. It saves him the trouble. But on the other paw...the barbaric disregard for life and limb of his companions is almost enough to make the otter feel bad for the rodent. Almost.
It takes a moment for Anthony to realize how tightly he's gripping the handle of his sword, and he makes a conscious effort to relax himself. Now is not the time to become sentimental.
Meesha takes the dagger handed her. Where exactly the bare chested fox was hiding all these daggers (He had run out of them on the belt strapped to his chest a while ago) was beyond her. Placing one foot paw on the table the plump ferret closed one eye. The rat closed both of his and cringed. The things beasts would go through for money.
The ferret drew back her paw to throw, eased up a bit, drew her paw back again and, then drew it back further, and finely let loose with the dagger. The curved blade flew strait and true, striking the rat between the eyes with the handle of the blade. The rat yelped and doubled over in obvious pain. He tried though to look up and smile, as if this was nothing at all.
"Awwww! You flinched!" The fox cried out. A roar of laughter erupted from the table. Every now and again though a beast would pass a glance towards the odd looking otter. They reguarded him in a most unusual way, choosing for the moment to leave him in peace due to looking like a fighting beast, but make it clear that he was deliberately being ignored.
"Well, I guess we can let him into the new gang." Meesha said as she took aheavy sip of ale. "That makes, what, one, two..." Her free paw pointed to each beast until it fell upon the otter. Meesha blinked in surprise at the most unusual creature. "Oi! Have you ever seen a beast quite like that?" She said, as if noticing Anthony for the first time.
The fox leaned backwards until he was looking at the otter upside down. "Ai! Bleeden Blazes, Izat an otter? I never knew em to come in white 'afore!"
"Maybe he's an ar(hic)tic otter, you know, like an arctic...fox or something."
Most beasts chose to ignore the otter, others were obviously too full of mead to notice until now that is...
Anthony cringes as the knife strikes the rat in the skull, sure that he's dead - but when the knife simply bounces off his head and he shouts in pain, the otter just rolls his eyes. Better that than the alternative.
He returns being deliberately ignored in kind, opting to draw no more attention to himself than absolutely necessary...until the ferret decides to force attention upon him. And the slack-jawed comments about his fur color are enought to make his teeth grind.
But he says nothing, and merely takes another sip of his cider, gazing over the rim of his mug with a dignified glare. A glare that, in bandit terms, translates roughly to 'alright, you've had your fun, now leave me alone or I'll break your legs'.
Which, unfortunetly, in some languages of bandit translate into, 'I'm a big bad warrior, come fight me to make yourself look cool.' Which these bandits totally speak.
"An arctic otter? What will they think up next?" Ever the commidian the fox leaps to his feet, the ale sloshing about in his gut making him off ballence. He quickly corrects himself to stumble towards the otter.
"Carefull there Frank, the otter has 'armor' he might be one of them fighten woodlanders!" Meesha mocked as she drank from her own mug of mead.
"An otter in armour? Bless me eyes they have upgraded from spears and staffs!" Frank the fox said as he plopped himself into the chair next to the otter, "Well how-dy me ol' chum! What is a fancy otter like yerself doing in these parts?"
The family of hares sitting in the table infront of anthony seem to shy away from the fox, even at this distance. The most elderly male, a very fluffy grey furred hare shakes his head towards teh otter, as if speaking in some code, urging him not to cause trouble, trouble that would spill onto the other woodlanders here.
The sight of hte hare is blocked off by Meesha as she plops down in the seat infront of Anthony. Resting her head in both paws with a goofy, intoxicated smile on her lips. "Look's like he ain't from these parts Frank."
"You can say that again. Why is he all dressed up in armor though Meesha? Don't he know he can't swim wid all dat armor?"
"Maybe he can't swim?" Meesha offered. The fox chuckled, "An otter who canne swim? Now that is a sight to see. Pitty we can't drag 'em down to the river to see ifin he does or does not! Right buddy?" He playfully punches the otter i nthe shoulder.
Anthony's reddish eyes narrow at the fox, and he slides his mug off to the side of the table, out of the way. He lets the vulpine and the ferret banter back and forth, sitting with as much calmness as he can muster, though he can't suppress the twitch of his whiskers when the fox hits his shoulder. Though, considering that the fox hit a steel plate, it was probably more unpleasant for him than the otter.
The otter also can't help but imagine how much better the this 'Frank' would look with a broadsword blade between his ribs. The nervous urging of the old grey hare is the only thing that keeps him from doing so right now.
"I can swim, and I am not from the arctic," Anthony replies coolly. "And I have the armor because I need it in my line of work."
Fueled by pure ale the fox barks in laughter, waving his hand frantically and trying not to show how much it hurt. Beasts were watching now. Meesha realizes that taunting the big otter is probibly not the best idea in the world. After all, they ARE trying to put a bandit gang together. If they start a fight they would have to finish it.
Prehaps Frank realizes this, prehaps not. It's hard to tell when he replies rather loudly, "Oh? What what kind of 'work' is that?"
"Oh leave 'em alone Frank. He ain't botherin no one." Meesha says, blowing the bangs of her head fur out of her eyes, "If you're bored then go harass some woodlander over there." She gestures wildly with her paws towards the family of hares behind her. They gasp in standard frightened woodlander fashion.
"What's wrong with the woodlander we got right here?" Frank says, "I mean, look'at him? Coming into OUR tavern, in his fancy pants armour, like some kind of knight in shining...uh...shining...um, help me out here Meesha."
"Armor. And I don't particularly feel like ending up like a dragon tonight." Meesh stood up from the table and explained after seeing the blank look Frank gave her, "Slain. Knights in shining armor slay dragons. I plan on spending ALL of the money I got from the chieftain, and I can't do that if you get me killed by picking a fight with some wanna be squire looking for a tussle with vermin to prove 'is worth. Gotit?" She says despite the fact that its Frank looking for the fight, not the otter.
"He does look like he is ready for battle, don' he?" the fox rubs at his chin thoughtfully before smiling most evily, "Maybe we should ablige him..."
Anthony has seen enough bandits in his time to tell when things are about to go from bad to worse, and he's not above getting in a pre-emptive strike when he can. Even as the fox is looking back towards Anthony with his malevolent grin, the otter is drawing his sword. Unfortunately, drawing a sword while sitting isn't the easiest thing in the world, and it takes Anthony substantially longer than he'd like to draw.
He was hoping the blade would be through the vulpine's chest by the time he looked back at him. As it stands, the blade is merely on its way to Frank's ribs, as the otter stabs across parallel to the table...
- DICE 1 d 6 + 0 ROLLED by Anthony :
- ROLLS: 6
- TOTAL: 6
- DICE 1 d 4 + 0 ROLLED by Meesha :
- ROLLS: 2
- TOTAL: 2
- DICE 1 d 6 + 0 ROLLED by Anthony :
- ROLLS: 1
- TOTAL: 1
Frank the Fox makes a shrill yelp as the otter draws his blade. Woodlanders are not supposed to strike first! That's HIS job! The fox quickly stands up, the ale in his belly however has already done itsdamage, but not nearly as much as the sword does as it enters his stomach and out the other side. The fox doubles over as the blade works itsway through his vitals. "That's..." He gulps as he clutches at the blade, "That's not funny at all..."
There is a loud scream from across the bar as they witness the vulpine murdered before their eyes. No healer would be able to fix that. The father and mother hare a table over quickly shield the eyes of their young ones, and a dark, ghastly hush falls over the tavern, especially over the beasts at the table in the center of the room.
"Ah well...poo on a stick." The ferret said as she stepped slowly away from the otter with his blade still in the fox's belly.
- DICE 1 d 6 + 0 ROLLED by Meesha :
- ROLLS: 5
- TOTAL: 5
Anthony never enjoys making a scene, but it's a bit too late for that now. He yanks his sword out of the vulpine's gut, letting him fall - or stand, or stagger, or whatever the fox decides to do with his last few moments. He may not be dead yet, but that will resolve itself soon.
There's a small chance that no one will mind the dead fox, and that it will serve as a deterrant for the vermin who wish to test him...though it's far more likely that at least a few of the headstrong brigands in here won't let it go so easily.
He truly hopes the storm is letting up outside, because he has a feeling he's overstayed his welcome.
The otter's next move is calculated - he stays seated, and rests his bloody blade on the table. Standing will surely invite more trouble, doubly so if he adopts any kind of combat stance. Remaining seated is less of an invitation to fight - though it is a bit of a gamble. Time is a precious commodity when enraged beasts are charging your table...
You must be OOC status to enter the OOC area.
- DICE 1 d 6 + 0 ROLLED by Meesha :
- ROLLS: 1
- TOTAL: 1
The silence is most overwhelming. Meesha swollows. Oh she is in for it now. As the newly appointed bandit leader, right after Frank crumples to the floor, shivering in pain, Meesha has the obligation to do SOMETHING about his murder. Else this mob of cut throats will add her to the list of beasts who die tonight.
"Well?" She shouts, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice, "Are you going to let 'em make a fool of you lot? Get him!" The fat ferret shouts. Her call to arms is answered with a rather pathetic shuffling of feet and uneasy stares.
"What gives? Are you not vermin?" Her voice shouts across the room.
"Aye!" Says a beast, a rather furry pine marten dressed in animal hides and wearing the skull of a badger as a helmat. "We be vermin, but we have seen this scene play out plenty o times 'afore Lass."
There is a curt nod from lanky looking weasel armed with culasses and daggers, "Some dolt like Frank, er, sorry Frank." The fox replies with a pitifull wimper on the floor, "Well anyway, some dolt decides to fancy himself a fight with a woodlander, get's killed by said woodlander, then we, bein his friends an all have to rush up to avenge him, only to be slaughtered."
"Yeah...an there be no money in killing him. So we are sitting this one out."
( Meesha facepaws, "Oh for the love of..." The scrawny little rat from before twitches his tail happily, "I..I'll avenge Frank!" The rat pulls out a dagger from the beam behind him and charges forward to prove his worth to the gang. "For FRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANK!" )
- DICE 1 d 4 + 0 ROLLED by Meesha :
- ROLLS: 4
- TOTAL: 4
Anthony might actually get off easy today. He has to give these bandits credit - they may be unruly and unlawful, but they're not stupid. Surprisingly.
Speaking of surprises! It takes quite a bit to surprise the albino otter, but he has to say, the rat jumping to the fox's aid catches him completely off guard. Of all the beasts in the bar, why would /that/ rat rush to the aid of the vulpine who was tormenting him not five minutes before?!
- DICE 1 d 6 + 0 ROLLED by Anthony :
- ROLLS: 6
- TOTAL: 6
The shock of it is enough to make Anthony hesitate a moment, and forget that he's supposed to be standing up. He even has doubts he'll be able t raise his sword in time - the rat is faster than he looks! He needs to make a snap decision to avoid being stabbed by some nameless underling! Sword? No, too slow. Duck? A temporary fix. Mug? Yes, mug!!
The otter uses the one stray object at his disposal, and chucks his empty mug at the charging rodent. Which...hits precisely where the knife handle did a few moments ago. Except harder.
The mug bounces off the rat's head, up into the air...while the rat goes down with a THUD, falling flat on his muzzle, unconscious. Not the most glorious takedown, but, well...it works, Antony guesses.
- DICE 1 d 4 + 2 ROLLED by Meesha :
- ROLLS: 2 and modifier 2
- TOTAL: 4
Meesha facepaws for the second time that day. "Oh for the love of..." She says again. Reaching at her belt she tosses a small cloth bag onto the table she was sitting at. Something clinks together as it lands onto the table with out spilling it's contents. "There! Look! Big bag of gold. Now kill him! Kill him dead!"
The weasel and pine marten both eay each other warily as do all the other beasts at the table. Then in one big loud voice the weasel shouts, "Dibs! I saw it first!" he lunges forward to the bag only to be hit across the head with a war hammer. "Like heck you did! Tis my gold!" shouts the pine marten as he stands upon the table.
"That's...that's not what I..." Meesha stares in confusion. As one her makshift gang all decend into chaos as they pounch on each other trying to get at the gold. Given the excuse to beat their fellow beasts black and blue in a good ol' fashioned tavern brawl, the room decends into chaos. Not quite what the ferret was expecting but she supposes it should give her just enough a distraction to make a hasty exit.
She turns to see a fearsom badger bouncer viciously caving a ferret's skull in by bashing him against the body of some poor rat in his hands. She does NOT want to go through that to get to the exit. Ok then, the window! Yes! Windows! Providing daring escape routs since the bronze era. The only trouble is that the only windows in the place are on the second floor. QUickly the ferret has to dodge through the mass of beasts fighting on the floor to get to the stairs. A path that will take her right through the otter. But that's ok, the otter should be busy with the fools stupid enough to attack him during the brawl.
Four of them, a pole cat, another fox, a rabbit of all beasts, and a mink. They are all variously dressed in different styles of animal hides and tunics, each weilding an odd assortment of daggers, knives, clubs, and brass knuckles with spike on the end. Minks. Lovely creatures...
- DICE 4 d 4 + 0 ROLLED by Meesha :
- ROLLS: 3 3 2 1
- TOTAL: 9
With those beasts out of the way, Anthony hopes the rest of the vermin in here have the brains to quit while they're ahead.
Such probably would have been the case...if not for the underhanded ferret with the gold. It's one thing to have cohorts and gang members try to kill your enemies, but throwing gold at your problems, and then running away...? No. The ferret has to go. He idly wonders if cowards taste any different from normal bandits...
Anthony stands up as soon as the beasts across the bar start fighting over the coins, giving himself time to prepare for the impending brawl.
- DICE 4 d 6 + 0 ROLLED by Anthony :
- ROLLS: 6 5 2 5
- TOTAL: 18
Anthony watches as the ferret flees up the stairs - he'll have to deal with her later. But for now, he has other problems.
The polecat is the first to reach Anthony, as well as the first to go down. The beast lunges with his knife, only to miss as the otter sidesteps him in a fluid, practiced motion, allowing the polecat to hit his table instead. The beast is winded by the impact, and trying to catch his breath...when the hilt of Anthony's sword comes down squarely between his shoulderblades, with enough force to send him crashing through the table below...and probably breaking several bones in the process.
The otter's attention quickly switches to the next attacker, another red-furred ruffian with a wicked looking knife. Anthony ducks below the fox's first slash, swinging his own sword at the vulpine's legs before he has time for a second. His blade doesn't go all the way through his leg - but it does go far enough to hit a few important tendons, and sweep him off his paws as he yips in pain.
The rabbit is next, and despite wielding a big, heavy club, the woodlander apparently knows how to use it. Anthony is forced to defend for a few second as the glorified stick batters at his sword, chips of wood flying off, until with a particularly hard swing against the blade of the otter's sword...the hare cuts his own weapon off at the hilt, and the top of the club clatters against the floor. The otter and the hare exchange a few glances of disbelief...before the hare makes a hasty retreat.
And then...there was the mink! Fuzzy little balls of death, they are. Anthony has to hop back to avoid being hit in the face by the spiked knuckles the beast wields, but allows the beast to take another swing at his chest - the punch hitting his chestplate, and otherwise doing little damage. But while the mink is open, he grabs her wrist with his off-hand, and quickly brings his sword arm up - hyperextending the joint with an unpleasant crunch, and shoving her off to the side, next to the splintered table and polecat.
Now then. Where was he?
Ah, yes. The ferret...
Upstairs, hyperventalaiting in pure panic. How did it all go so wrong so fast? The plan was simple. Leave mossflower. But no, she had to get one last dig in at those that killed off her last gang. Then she sold the daggers she got from the cheiftan's office. Some drinks were had, people suggested starting a gang. One thing led to another and here she was, running for her life. Again. It was almost as bad as when she ran with Dylan...no, not nearly as bad. Although she admited to missing the extra sword arm. Sure, Frank could talk the talk so to speak of her previous employer, but he obviously could not walk the walk.
But all would be well! She still had some gold left. She could start over! All she had to do was escape this death trap of a tavern and dissapear into the storm outside.
And to do that she had to fit through the window on the second floor, which her ale and food filled belly would not permit her to do. Struggle as she might the ferret was having trouble fitting through the narrow window. After a moment the ferret realized she carried a club. With a roll of her eyes she pulled herself back through and readied to break the window...
Meesha has disconnected.
I won't say goodbye to you, because one evening you may drop by to share this good life with us. You know you are always welcome at Redwall Abbey. All you need to bring with you is a ready smile and an open heart.
Logging stopped at 03/01/2015 - 01:02:06
PART 2
And then...there was the mink! Fuzzy little balls of death, they are. Anthony has to hop back to avoid being hit in the face by the spiked knuckles the beast wields, but allows the beast to take another swing at his chest - the punch hitting his chestplate, and otherwise doing little damage. But while the mink is open, he grabs her wrist with his off-hand, and quickly brings his sword arm up - hyperextending the joint with an unpleasant crunch, and shoving her off to the side, next to the splintered table and polecat.
Now then. Where was he?
Ah, yes. The ferret...
Upstairs, hyperventalaiting in pure panic. How did it all go so wrong so fast? The plan was simple. Leave mossflower. But no, she had to get one last dig in at those that killed off her last gang. Then she sold the daggers she got from the cheiftan's office. Some drinks were had, people suggested starting a gang. One thing led to another and here she was, running for her life. Again. It was almost as bad as when she ran with Dylan...no, not nearly as bad. Although she admited to missing the extra sword arm. Sure, Frank could talk the talk so to speak of her previous employer, but he obviously could not walk the walk.
But all would be well! She still had some gold left. She could start over! All she had to do was escape this death trap of a tavern and dissapear into the storm outside.
And to do that she had to fit through the window on the second floor, which her ale and food filled belly would not permit her to do. Struggle as she might the ferret was having trouble fitting through the narrow window. After a moment the ferret realized she carried a club. With a roll of her eyes she pulled herself back through and readied to break the window...
Having briefly the otter beat the living crap out of the several beasts who attacked him, most of the vermin in the bar are content to keep brawling amongst themselves. If you have to take part in a bar fight, it's probably a good idea to stay on a level playing field with other drunken, surly beasts.
Anthony still encounters /some/ resistance on his way to the stairs, in the form of staggering vermin ejected from other fights - which he curtly shoves back into the fray.
Unfortunately, there's still one major roadblock. A badger with a sledgehammer just happens to have made his way to the bottom of the stairs, where he stands swinging the blunt instrument at anyone foolish enough to come close. The otter assesses the risk - and determines that he probably /could/ take down the large beast, he'd rather not risk having his skull caved with one luckly blow. So...he simply takes a running jump at the side of the stairway, trying to pull himself up between the bannisters. Path of least resistance, and all that.
Maybe. Otter claws are not notoriously sharp, and armor is heavy...
- DICE 1 d 6 + 0 ROLLED by Anthony :
- ROLLS: 2
- TOTAL: 2
- DICE 1 d 4 + 0 ROLLED by Meesha :
- ROLLS: 3
- TOTAL: 3
In a stark contrast to the grace and valor the otter displayed in combat...Anthony's eyes open wide as he begins to slip backward, his claws scraping gouges into the wooden stairs. He scrabbles desperately to try to pull himself up for a moment, but gravity eventually wins out - and the otter falls to his back on the floor with a thud.
The sound of the falling otter is lost amid the parade of yells, shouts and broken objects. Like the sound of glass breaking up on the second floor. The window proved to have no resistance to a wooden club with nails running through it. Meesha was desperate to escape but she wasn't stupid enough to just toss her self through a broken window either. Plus it was the frame itself of the double frame window that prevented her portly body from fitting through. After clearing away the glass with her club she began to beat at the frame in order to break it appart.
Not the most gracefull exit but who cared about grace when their life was in danger?
Down stairs th badger however took note of the riverdog and his poor stair climbing ways. "You! This is all your fault!" He said with a snarl before swinging his sledge hammer at the downed otter.
- DICE 1 d 4 + 0 ROLLED by Meesha :
- ROLLS: 3
- TOTAL: 3
- DICE 1 d 6 + 0 ROLLED by Anthony :
- ROLLS: 6
- TOTAL: 6
Anthony's eyes widen in shock once more as the badger begins to swing his hammer down.
...Leaving his chest open for a swift kick to the ribs.
The otter's armor is too heavy for him to do a handspring back to his feet, but he can get enough momentum going to plant his paws on the badger at chest level, and crack a few ribs.
Huh? If you need help, type '+globals for a list of all MUCK commands'
Predictably, the badger's otter-smashing hopes and dreams are shattered as his bones, and the hammer falls from his paws, leaving a dent in the tavern floor as it lands. The badger himself stumbles backwards, growling in pain and clutching his chest as he lays in an incapacitated heap near the bottom stair. Which, after picking himself up and brushing himself off, Anthony promptly steps over on his way up. He wasn't able to hear the glass break, but as he heads upstairs, and the sounds of the fight subside a bit, he /can/ hear the pounding on the window frame...
- DICE 1 d 6 + 0 ROLLED by Anthony :
- ROLLS: 1
- TOTAL: 1
- DICE 1 d 6 + 0 ROLLED by Meesha :
- ROLLS: 6
- TOTAL: 6
The thumping sound of the club baring down on the window frame comes to an abrupt halt. The otter rounds the corner in time to see Meesha squeezing her fleshy ferret body through the window with ease. Halfway in halfway out of the window Meesha pauses to turn her terrified gaze towards her pursuer. "Oh blast..." she squeeks then pulls herself through onto the rooftops, dissapearing for a brief moment from the otters line of sight...
The otter frowns as the ferret escapes through the window. Why do they always have to run? And how is such a portly ferret still so wiggly? He'll have to ponder that later.
Anthony rushes forward, picking up the pace now that he knows where Meesha is. He briefly considers taking a running jump through the window - but he has no idea how far the roof extends on the other side, and with the snow... Well, after his encounter with the stairs, he's not too confident in about his chances of not jut sliding right off the edge.
Instead, as he approaches the window, he slows himself, and grabs the top of the frame, picking up his legs to swing through and land on the other side. Much safer! ...Maybe.
He still skids a bit when he lands, but maintains his footing, and doesn't even bother to find the ferret before drawing his sword. He scans the area quickly, though the storm is still in full swing, and the blizzard makes visibility beyond the roof zero. She has to be around here somewhere...
The blizard outside howls around the otter, seaking to smother the beast with the chill of winter. The sounds below are muffled now, what is heard is greatly distored. The roof the beast finds himself on extends some way before making a single story drop into the icy snow below. The wooden roof around him extends upward towards another level or perhaps the top of the attic. Blast these old tavern roofs and their odd designs.
It does however make for a most wonderfull hiding spot. Meesha, although fat, is still a ferret, a creature who defined the term 'dexterity'. That same ferrety agility has allowed her once more to get the drop on her enemies.
Quite literally this time.
The ferret makes a savage yell from ontop of the window BEHIND the otter, mostly to bolster her own nerves before making such a terrifying leap. It is clear at this point that simply fleeing into the storm will not keep this annoying otter from following her. And that has to be delt with.
The ferret flys through the air, sending her full weight at the otter, teeth and claws flashing along with the glint of the deadly nails in her crude and makeshift weapon!
- DICE 1 d 6 + 0 ROLLED by Meesha :
- ROLLS: 1
- TOTAL: 1
- DICE 1 d 6 + 0 ROLLED by Anthony :
- ROLLS: 3
- TOTAL: 3
Anthony spots the ferret above him only moments before she lunges, just barely giving him enough time to roll out of the way before she lands. A landing that...probably isn't very comfortable, given that there's no otter to cushion it. But there's some snow, at least.
Not that the snow is doing the otter any favors, either. He had planned for his roll to land him back on his feet, but as it turns out, more sliding was involved than rolling. As he picks himself up for the third or fourth time today, he scowls at the ferret. "So. You tried to have me killed. I suppose I don't need to explain to you why that was a mistake." As he stands at his full height once more, the white otter holds his blade out in front of him, pointed at the beast. "You know, it never ceases to amaze me the kind of desperate, shiftless vermin places like this attract..."
Meesha made a pained chitter as she landed face first into the snow of the roof. She countinued to slide on her stomach several feet until she reached the end of the roof. Slowly, she picked herself up, spitting out ice and snow. "Oh? And then why are you here then mr. knight in fancy armor?" she cracked her neck, wiping blood from the end of her muzzle with her wrist. "Yeah, I'll admit that was a mistake. So how about we call it even? I tried to have you killed and you killed my new gang. So...we are square right? Cause if not, I have a few coins that could make it so we are..."
The ferret had no desire to cross blades with the likes of this otter. She doubted very much though that he would be willing to take a bribe and let her be. That was way she started to reach for the small curved hold out knife tied to the small of her back in case he didn't...
Anthony sneers at the ferret, not lowering his sword an inch as he gestures to the storm with his free paw. "I'm here out of necessity, much like the other upstanding beasts caught in the middle of the slaughter /you/ started down there. For that alone, we are /far/ from even. And I'm afraid you won't find me as easily bought as your former 'gang'." He narrows his eyes as she begins to reach behind her back. He can't be sure what she's after...but he highly doubts it's money.
In the end, it doesn't matter.
Anthony lunges forward with his blade, growling as he thrusts the broadsword at the underhanded ferret.
- DICE 1 d 6 + 0 ROLLED by Anthony :
- ROLLS: 4
- TOTAL: 4
- DICE 1 d 4 + 0 ROLLED by Meesha :
- ROLLS: 4
- TOTAL: 4
The ferret makes a panicked squeek as she leans to her left and twists her body to avoid the blade seeking her heart with uncanny accuracy. The small knife comes free quickly from it's holster, catching the sword on the underside and diverting its course to cutting the fabric of her vest. "Self rightious river rat!" She shouted as she let the otter's momentum carry him away from her on the icy roof top. "I doubt the fate of 'shiftless vermin' would cause you to lose any sleep. Why are you after me?!"
The ferret used her own momentum to spin, following through with her club and aiming for the otters back side.
- DICE 1 d 4 + 0 ROLLED by Meesha :
- ROLLS: 2
- TOTAL: 2
- DICE 1 d 6 + 0 ROLLED by Anthony :
- ROLLS: 6
- TOTAL: 6
Anthony spins on his paws as his momentum carries him past the ferret, finally using the slick terrain to his advantage. It seems both beasts had a similar idea - but Anthony manages to spin himself faster, the flat of his blade swinging in a wide arc before connecting with the side of the ferret's head.
To say that she's seeing stars would be an understatement - it's amazing that she's still conscious by the time she hits the snow of the roof, sprawled on her back, the broad snowy sky above.
"Funny you should ask," the otter replies cooly, as he he carefully pads over to stand over the ferret, the tip of his blade hovering just above her heart. "First and foremost, because you tried to have me killed. Even among woodlanders, that's generally not an offense that's taken lightly." He lowers the blade a bit, until it sits on the fabric of her vest.
"Second, because of the /innocent/ beasts that were caught in the chaos you started, those that were simply taking refuge from the storm, huddled in the corners."
He presses the sword down harder, until it pierces the fabric of the ferret's vest, and threatens to pierce her hide as well. He lets out a dry chuckle, and shakes his head a bit. "Third - and, somewhat selfishly - with all this.../meat/ on your bones, you seemed like you'd make an excellent meal."
The ferret is breathing most rapidly now, her chest raising and falling with the beat of her heart. Her weapons lost in the previous struggle the bandit holds up her paws from where she lays. Her mind is screaming as the blade grows ever closer. All she can think about is getting it away from her. As her list of various offenses is rattled off she feels herself trying to sink into the wood of the roof, as if it would magically open up and save her from her opponent.
Then the otter comments that she would make an excellent meal. This takes a while to process. She has heard it before, but not from a...a woodlander!
"You...you mean your a..." Her eyes go wide in the most fearful expression of her life as she realizes what this means...
"Yes. I try not to worry about petty things such as labels," the otter says flatly. "If I must kill vermin, I see no reason to waste the spoils."
Anthony leans on the blade of his sword, forcing it to sink into the ferret's chest, straight through her heart. He doesn't seem to take any pleasure in killing the beast...but there is no regret in his flat expression either. "If you can, take solace in the fact that your death will be quick. Far more merciful than some I've had do in the past. And if nothing else, your death will prevent you from further dirtying your soul with misdeed. Now...sleep."
The otter says no more, silently waiting for the ferret to pass as the snow falls around them, as red begins to seep into the pristine white where the beast lies.
Anthony will have work to do, soon.
________
Some time later, Anthony walks back into the tavern through the door from the kitchen, having used the back door to get himself back into the Black Gull after dealing with his...dinner. His white fur and the steel of his blade are glossy and thoroughly cleaned, and there's no trace of the ferret he followed out, seemingly anywhere...except for perhaps a slightly fuller coin purse.
Without taking any notice of the rest of the beasts in the bar, he seats himself back in the spot where all of this started, casually sliding over a new table, as the last was broken in his exchange with the polecat. Once seated, he leans over and picks his mug up off the floor, tipping it over and watching disinterestedly as the last few drops of his spilled apple cider drip out. With a shrug, he sets the mug back on the table and folds his paws, as though it were just a normal, uneventful day.
And the most unsettling part is that he doesn't appear to be acting. For all outward appearances, this /could/ just be another normal day for the albino otter...
The atmosphere in the tavern is much more somber than before. With the storm raging out side there is little else to do but bunker down here and ride out the snow. The woodlanders now inhabit the center tables of the room, the virmin give them a wide berth as they congregate in the far corners of the room. All eyes settle upon the white otter when he enters.
No one would dare offer even an insult towards the otter after his display of ferocity in the last fight, but after they investigated the smell of cooking meat earlier and found Anthony...well, suffice to say this lot were giving him a wide berth as well.
The young rat who had tried to join the gang slowly approached the otter's table. His nose was still crooked from where it had been broken and his eye was swollen shut. "W-would you like some wine M-Mr. Anthony...sir?"
"Allow me to grab you a pillow Mr. Anthony!" Said the badger from before as he quickly came forward with a pillow for the otter.
"Is there anything we c-can get you Riverd-er, otter...sir?" Said a tall red furred fox with a belt of daggers across his chest.
The otter doesn't turn his head to face them, and his eyes remain forward, but the twitching of his ears implies that he did hear them. After a moment of agonizing silence, the otter clears his throat and simply states, "No. No wine, no pillows." He raises a paw, and begins to brush them away, but stops and thinks better of it. "I'd like some apple cider," he replies evenly. "And a toothpick."
