The Slavers Strike Again
While not the most beautiful of summer days, today is not much of a scorcher, therefore making it not a bad summer day. The clearing is filled with the buzzing of cicadas, the rustling of grass and the twangy noise of an instrument repeatedly being strummed and tuned. An otter, sitting with his back to a tree, is the source of this unnatural noise as he tries to bring a lute into submission but the instrument seems to want to have no part in it. Nash argues with it vocally for a bit then turns to take a bite of his lunch, simple bread and cheese, before returning to work on his music. "An old stoat from Southsward was sailing along...." He warbles, in a strangely pleasant voice.
The sound of the instrument and the otter's voice have likely drawn his unseen guests as much as anything else, as in the trees just out of his sight crouch five vermin, all watching him carefully, assessing him silently. The band consists of a rat, who has the air of a leader about him, a sly-looking female ermine, two archers, one a weasel, the other a polecat, and a ferret with a bandage wrapped around his head, only one eye visible.
Nash begins to pluck out a melody on the lute, going back and forth between two notes before deciding on one and continuing onward. He's working on a song and completely immersed in the intricacies of matching melody with meter in a singable tune. He has a single dagger on him but he's removed his belt to allow his seat to be more comfortable and it is now laying in close proximity but not within reach. "...sailing along...and as he was going he..." Pluck. Frown. "He..." Pluck. "As he was going he..."
After a few more seconds of watching, the vermin deem it time to reveal themselves, stepping out into the clearing casually, the lead rat, Hakit, swinging his whip. Though Hakit walks closer to Nash each second, the ermine, with her own dagger, is currently closest to the otter. "'Ello, what's dis 'ere?" the rat asks, "A travellin' player? Why don' chew play us a song, streamdog?" he asks, cracking his whip to one side of him. The other three vermin stand behind, archers at the ready, one stone faced, the other grinning cruelly but silent for the time being.
A born showman, Nash knows a rough crowd when he sees one. "Good afternoon t' yahs, gentlemen, and lady!" He nods at the ermine. "Is there any particular song y' wanted to hear?" Nash isn't dumb, he sees the various weaponry scattered about his audience and he clearly remembers tossing his own dagger aside. Any move to retrieve it now would be foolish.
Hakit looks over at the ermine, who looks by far to be the cleanest of the bunch, "Oi, Ferilla, what's dat fancy name ya used fer his type tha other day?" he asks her. "A jongleur, Hakit." she replies calmly, with a hint of a smile. "Yer, yer, dat was it." he turns back to the otter at his question, "Eh, play us any song ya like," he says. The ermine cuts in, "Yes, it's not as if we know much about music," she retorts under her breath. She seems to be of a different breed than the other slavers, but she still looks like she'd have no reservations about killing Nash, lest he get any funny ideas.
Much like his sister, Nash acts first and thinks later. "Any song you say? Well, as it turns out I've just written a brand new one! Care to hear it?" He doesn't wait for a response but instead embarks on a musical adventure, coming up with a song that doesn't exist yet except in concept. "Well, as you all know, there be two types o' beasts...." The song begins slow but gradually speeds up as Nash becomes a bit more confident and stops caring about making it sound right. "There's good 'uns and bad 'uns, that’s just about it!" Nash's feet have been sticking out in front of him this entire time but now he draws them in slowly under the pretext of getting more comfortable. "But of all of the bad 'uns, the worst group by faaaaarrrr!" He drags the note out, gives a pleasant smile to Ferilla. "Is them what we call, The Slavers!!" Quickly, Nash sets his lute down and makes a dive for his dagger.
All five of the vermin are caught a little off guard by the otter's sudden finish and lunge for his weapon, though Ferilla and one of the archers recover first, the archer raising his bow to shoot at Nash as Ferilla stands back slightly with her curved dagger in one paw, not wanting to be the target if the archer misses, nor get stabbed if Nash is a better fighter than he appears. Hakit soon gets a grip on the situation and his first reaction is to start swinging his whip in the general direction of the otter, prompting Ferilla to back up even further, The other archer and the ferret are still a little shocked by the suddenness of it all.
Nash is in the unfortunate position of reaching when the arrow fired by the archer slams into his shoulder, burying itself inside. He gasps and instinctively rolls over to grab his right shoulder with his left paw while tears spring involuntarily out of his eyes and he grits his teeth in pain. But there is no time for that right now. With a fresh burst of resolve, Nash squints at his dagger and begins pulling himself towards it, using his back paws and tail to propel himself forward.
Though Hakit charges in to stop the otter, followed closely by the ferret, Ferilla calmly holds up a paw to signal the archers to cease fire, as she sees that the game is already coming to a close. She stands back and watches, one paw on her hip, as Hakit kicks at Nash, trying to keep him away from his dagger without flat out killing him, which would obviously make him useless to them. He cracks his whip down at the young otter, and Ferilla has an almost... disapproving look on her face.
Unable to reach his dagger and unwilling to let go of his painful shoulder, Nash curls himself up in a ball and presents his back and spine to the rat and his whip and kicks. They still hurt but the damage is easier to contain this way than if Hakit were to be kicking his stomach or face. The pain in the otter's shoulder is immense, occupying all of his thoughts.
"Hakit you fool, he's no good to us if he can't work." Ferilla says, walking up and bodily pulling the rat away from Nash. Hakit looks disappointed that she's seen fit to end his fun, and pouts like someone less than half his age. Though he may be the official leader, it's clear who makes the decisions in this group. Ferilla sheathes her dagger and crouches next to the otter, "C'mon, let's get you up," she says, doing her best to get him into a sitting position without hurting him more.
Nash is relieved when the rat is pulled away from him and actually allows the ermine to sort of help him sit up. His expression is livid and frustrated, knowing he has been captured and having no way to get himself out of it. He is now completely at their mercy. Exhausted and in pain he slouches against the tree he had previously been sitting at. "Yew gonna get this arrow outta my shoulder?" He's still holding onto it and when he finally pulls his paw away he reveals a blood and dirt-caked wound, made worse by the struggling on the ground.
Ferilla inspects the wound quickly, "Well, I’m no healer, but this looks pretty..." she is interrupted as Hakit strides back over, glaring down at the otter, "Well, howzit feel ta be a slave, eh, streamdog? Yew gonna cry fer yer mother, maybe try an' bribe us ta let cha go? Hm?" he asks, smirking venomously. The ermine just rolls her eyes at him, "Don't yew have some dibbuns to be scarin'?" she asks, before turning her attention back to the otter's wound. This angers Hakit, he pushes Ferilla and grabs at the front of the otter's shirt and hauling him up. The ermine takes the blow gracefully, catching herself and standing back up. "You're gonna hurt him an' Nikita won't be happy..." she warns.
Nash's ears flatten against his head as he is hefted into the air and he snarls before lobbing a wad of spit directly at the rat's left eye. "Vermin scum!" He hisses. "If it weren't for the sheer /luck/ that one o' your archers is smarter than you, you'd be down on the ground begging for mercy right now."
Hakit roars in fury as he gets a nice gift of spit right in his eye. He balls up his free fist around the handle of his whip and throws two hard punches at the otter's cheek, though he's half blind at the moment, so they don't have the best accuracy. Ferilla stands back, arms crossed, clicking her tongue, "Nikita won't be happy about this..."
At least one of the punches slams home, Nash being unable to defend himself very well. But he is dangling in the air so he takes advantage of his hind paws to lash out at the rat's soft belly with a savage kick utilizing all the strength he can muster.
The kick connects and Hakit drops the otter, doubling over as the winds is knocked out of him. Just so he doesn't get cocky and try to run, the two archers stand ready, and Ferilla comes up and puts a firm paw on his uninjured shoulder. The rat is on the ground now, wheezing out expletives and threats, mostly inaudible right now. "Just come with us, kid. It'll be a lot easier fer everyone, but mostly you." Ferilla says softly.
From his new position on the ground, Nash glares at Hakit for a few moments before resigning himself to Ferilla's warning. He knows she's right and he relaxes his body in submission. "Jus' let me get my instrument." He doesn't present it as a request but follows the statement up by grabbing for the strap of the lute and dragging it closer to him. Then, brushing the ermine's paw off of his shoulder, he hefts himself up, slings the lute over his shoulders, carefully avoiding the injured right one, and stands to face Ferilla. "Let's do this."
The ermine raises an eyebrow at the otter. "I don't guess you've ever been enslaved before, have you?" she asks, a quite silly question really. "Yew don't get ta keep yer stuff, ya idjit, gimme that!" Hakit coughs, back up on his knees now and reaching for the instrument, though he's a good five feet away from the otter. Ferilla nods, "Yeah, we're not gonna let ya keep anythin', but i'll keep that safe fer you, if you like." she offers, her gaze saying 'take this offer, the rat will just smash it'.
Nash clenches his fists and stares angrily at Ferilla. "And here I was, thinking you were better than them." He doesn't make a move to hand over the lute just yet preferring pretty much anything to giving up his instrument. It is, after all, his most prized possession, a family heirloom passed down for five generations. Nash knows it is just a matter of time before he either gives it to them or they rip it off of him but either way they're going to end up in possession of it. Slowly, his eyes never leaving Ferilla's, he reaches up to slide the strap over his head. As the lute comes off, Nash runs his paw along the golden wood, shiny from years of constant use. He can't hand it to the ermine. He just can't. She's going to have to take it from him if she wants it.
"Better than them, but still one of them," she sighs softly, speaking quietly so the others don't hear her words. She reaches out and takes the lute from his paws. After the initial little pull she has to give to get it free from his grasp, she handles it with infinite care, looking it over before carefully slinging it over her shoulder. "Yeris, tie him up," she calls to the ferret. "Just a formality," she assures Nash as she walks towards Hakit, giving him a light kick as the rat struggles to his feet. "C'mon 'slave master', let's get moving. We're burning daylight." Yeris follows her orders and moves to tie the otter's paws. One archer falls in just behind Ferilla, leading the group out of the clearing, and the other stays to guard the rear, and the prisoner.
