What're We Waiting For?
What're We Waiting For?
~//~ A Tale of Redwall ~//~
Players
- Samara
- Magramba
- Flicktail
- Castus
RW Abbey: Pond
The abbey pond is practically the place to go for relaxation. The orchards that settle onto one side of the water hole provide decent shade for the more heated months to come. Various types of wild flowers grow about the edge of the ground that lightly overhangs into the pond. The pond seemingly invites one into its cool depths, which holds its fish life and multiple species of shrimp and other water dwellers.
Spring has come. Due to the rains, the abbey pond is just gently lapping at the edges of the ground. Soon to overflow lightly if the spring rains don't let up soon. Plant life seems to explode here in a variety of colors, sizes and aromas.
During the day, Sam had attempted to spend a blissfull afternoon lounging in the sun. What got in the way? Dibbuns. Dibbuns everywhere. So in an attempt to win back the relaxing day she lost, she has returned for moonlit swimming and lounging. A blanket lies pondside, her clothes folded and stacked neatly on top of it, her glasses resting beside them. The squirrel floats on her back, eyes shut, slowly drifting around the middle of the pond. Finally, some peace and quiet...
"Bada dum dum dum /dum/, da dum," Magramba hums softly to himself, out for a stroll in the moonlit Abbey yard. Humming is a luxury only afforded to safety, and the squirrel tends not to be afforded... that luxury. Yeah. So he's enjoying the chance to make noise without attracting dangerous attention, and also the freedom of walking about in just a shirt and pants. No boots, because the grass is so soft. Redwall is /awesome./ His eyes catch sight of something floating out in the pond. The Loch Ness Monster? He squints a bit to make out who it could be, but it's fairly dark.
Flicktail approaches the pond with a fishingpole
Still unaware and unassuming, Sam floats on in a state of blissfull ignorance - she has not yet noticed the two approaching beasts. Still on her back, she lazily paddles, her lackluster splashing scaring off whatever small fry fish were swimming beneath her in the dark waters.
Flicktail is at the far side of the pond, not seeing either beast yet he bates his hook and tossesthe line in the water, looking up at themoon
Or the really big fish that swallow unsuspecting squirrels... but those haven't been seen in seasons. Magramba notices the familiar foxy shape sitting down by the water, and, glancing over in the darkness towards him and spying the long, slender rod in his paw, calls out: "Out for a spot of night-fishing, Flick?"
The voice calling out comes as a surprise, and Sam jumps (Which is to say that she flails, goes under, and reemerges sputtering) - only to notice not one but *two* encroachers of her privacy. Flicktail she met before but the other is...also famliar. Spitting water, she calls out "Pfft, pah, M-Magramba?"
Oh, that's a shame, the lady in the water seems to be having a bit of a struggle. Magramba's ears prick forward as he hears his name, raising a paw in a halting wave. "...it is I, Lady of the Lake."
Flicktail looks up from his fishin pole "aye Margamba, I ear the BIG ones are out at ni...'
Flicktail blinks as hehears Sam's voice "wow.. I guess the big ones really ARE out at night" he says from across the pond
Samara paddles towards the shore, ears pinned back and still coughing up the occassional mouthful of water. "Are you calling me fat?" She jokes to Flicktail, pulling herself out of the pond and shaking water from her fur. She squints at Mag through the dark. "Oh, it is you. Small world." She is squeezing water from her tail, glancing back and forth along the edge of the pond, trying to locate her blanket and clothes.
For his own part, Magramba seems unsurprised to have bumped into the other squirrel. Redwall is seldom described as a "here of all places" affair. "It's good to see you," he replies, with a nod and a grin at Flick's comment. "He's right, you know. And I'm sure you would have won him any fishing contest this season had he reeled you in."
Flicktail pulls in his line and begins a trek around the pond to meet the others "No notcallin ya fat just sayin I bet yer one heck o a fighter" he smiles goingtomeet his 2 bushy tailed friends
Samara hmphs. She probably is smaller than some of the scarier fish in this pond, in reality. "I like that explanation better." She offers to Flick, along with a small smile and a cheeky wink. "Though I doubt you could have reeled me in." She turns to Magramba, nodding politely. "I hope I find you well?"
"Always, at this place," Magramba replies with a nod, the soft glow of his white teeth visible in the pale light of the moon. "One of the few places you can really relax, this is."
Flicktail arrives next to the 2 beasts and chuckles "I woudl not even TRY tioreal in another bushy tail....that coud be dangerous
"I am glad to hear that." She smiles to Mag, and flashes another grin at Flicktail. However, despite the pleasant company, Sam is not in the mood to socialize. "It was nice to see both of you. Please do not take offense, but I was hoping to spend some time by myself tonight." She tells them, apologetically, as she scoops up her clothing and blanket. "I am not used to company throughout the day, it can grow rather exhausting." She bows politely, and heads back towards the Abbey.
Well, that's life. Magramba shrugs a bit as she walks off, not taking the sudden departure personally. "Catch anything good tonight?" The question is for Flicktail, and the squirrel turns back to face the Champion as he poses it.
Flicktail asks, "just one o me best friends" he chuckles "howa re you this eve?"
"Doing well," Magramba replies with a nod, paws falling to his hips as he scuffs at the ground with one foot. Never been huge on small talk, this one. His tail moves behind him, swaying slowly from left to right, like a pendulum keeping steady time. "I don't imagine I'll be staying much longer. Rumor has it there's been an up-tick in vermin activity, and I've run afoul of some of it myself." His eyes roll subtly up and to the left, as if trying to see his ear, where a small pinprick hole has recently mended.
Flicktail asks, "Why would you leave when we need you most? Magramba I been thinking,...I need a beast i can trust with martin's sword...I'd like thatto be you"
Magramba looks confused for a moment, eyes clouding and brow furrowing. "Why do you need me right now...? No one's threatening the-" and then the second statement hits home. "No. Flicktail, I told you, I don't trust myself with Martin's blade. It's too..." he founders for a moment, searching for the right word. "Sacred. Martin didn't choose me."
Flicktail says, "Martin doesn't always CHOOSE a beast, he chose me and I am allowed..and I know yer tail Magrmba...and it;s a GOOD tail"
"My... tail?" Magramba's expression clouds further, his entire face pulling in towards the center as he pulls his head back subtly. "What? What does that have to do with anything? Mice have /terrible/ tails, and Martin was one."
Flicktail says, "it's an expression magramba..look if it was wrong...martin would TELL me....\\"
"We have to wait and find out after?" Magramba shakes his head, said tail moving agitatedly behind him. "I don't know, Flick. He gave the sword to you."
Flicktail says, "and I am not givin it UP..butthere are TIMES mags...when another needs the blade...temporarily....Please Mags...I needyou"
Magramba sighs, looking down at the ground. After a long moment of silence and a bit more shaking of his head, he speaks. "What do you need me for? Seems like the Abbey is safe enough."
Flicktail asks, "Are you kidding? Sister Zinnia was just attacked, scared the DAYLIGHTS outta Jules..we had a fox at th gate..these ermines runnin round...."
"Wait wait wait. /What?/" Magramba shakes his head quickly, eyes narrowing with surprise, putting out a paw to the fox as if to slow the stream of information. "A fox attacked a Sister? Why would anybeast be stupid enough to do that?" The warrior bites his lip, paws falling back to his hips in a decidedly less-casual manner. "...This was just today?"
Flicktail says, "that werethe report I got...please magramba...Me and Lee...we need wot elp we can get...and Ermine attacked Zinnia today i eard...last noht there were a fox at the gate"
"Don't /you/ need Martin's sword?" That's a good question from Magramba. "I have a sword. I don't need Martin's to help you, and you're the Abbey's Champion. They'll be looking to you."
Flicktail says, "thats the point mags...they will THINk I haveit, when You do....it will surprise them...I have other blades too ya know"
"And the benefit of that is what?" Magramba's paws remain on his hips, still not sold on the idea. Not at all, if his demeanor is any sort of indication.
Flicktail says, "They be focused on me..and you can..do wot's needed...Look mags, i have to go find Jules, I heard he had quite a scare....please DON'T leave we will talk of this more (OOC I must be off my friend... thanks for the RP) :)"
"We'll see," Magramba concedes, still staring at the ground.
"Was that Flicktail? Why do you look so depressed?" Castus asks as he wanders up behind Magramba.
Cool guys don't jump at unexpected greetings. Of course the veteran warrior knew Castus was there. "Yes," he answers without moving, shaking his head slowly before turning to face the other squirrel. "Yes, it was." He ignores the question, offering the younger wanderer a wan smile. "It's good to see you in one piece."
"Oh, well, it's good to see that you are breathing and existing as well," Castus says, crossing his arms and smirking. He looks the older squirrel up and down. "No ring on your finger and *maybe* one or two new scars. How *bored* you must have been when I wasn't around!"
"Don't believe in it," Magramba replies to the first, with a quick half-shake of his head. "Snake bit my ear a week or so ago," he responds to the second, pointing up at the pin-sized hole. "That was a scaly situation." He grins at Castus, happy to see his former protege despite himself.
"Ow. Ooh. Ew. You've let the bad pun-stage of your life slither in. Surely you can wrap your mind around a better joke than that?" Castus rolls his eyes. "It's good to see you, Mag. Want to get something to eat?"
"Food sounds good." When does food not sound good? Magramba nods shortly, still trying to shrug off the last conversation and move into this new one. "Let's, uh. Kitchen." That is where they keep the stuff. He jerks his thumb towards the main Abbey building, turning on a bare heel to lead the way.
RW Abbey: Kitchen
This is a long, narrow room with five large fireplaces set into one wall, and two equally large wood burning iron stoves set against the opposite wall. Several small, rectangular tables rest in here, but there are no chairs available. The rest of the wallspace is taken up by an entire array of shelves, cupboards, and counters which hold the day-to-day cooking supplies and utensils. The kitchen is clean and well maintained, and more recent efforts have been made toward organization of the cooking ware.
On the wall just right of the door leading into Great Hall is a neatly penned chart, which lists the names of beasts assigned to cooking duty as well as the dates and times they are scheduled. A small note above the chart urges residents to volunteer for at least a slot or two a week.
Morning light is streaming in through the windows. The ovens have been stoked for the days cooking.
"So, I've ah, been taking most of your lessons to heart," Castus says, very obviously showing off pretty much everything about him there is to show off as they enter the kitchens. He's no longer the scrawny meek orphan that snuck into Redwall for scraps. "It's been good, you know, life, that is. I always find my way back here, though. Where I got started and all."
"Glad to hear it," Magramba replies, doing his best to make it look like he's telling the truth with a casual smile. "I've been good, too. Mostly up to my old habits, trying to help where I can and, you know, generally screwing things up." For some reason when adventurers arrive to 'help' things always take a turn for the worse before they get better, after all. "And I know what you mean. It's the pies, I think." To prove his thesis, he plucks up a deep pie dish, turning it about in his paws to examine its contents. "Looks like blueberry."
"Blueberry? Ha! How vanilla, Mag." Castus plucks up a strange looking imaginatively-decorated pie of red, orange, and blue. "I don't even know what's in this one. Sure the Friar won't mind me taking a taste." He carries to to a table and sits down, rubbing his paws together. "And forget the pies, it's the company! All the hardy warriors to drink with, all the pretty maids to flirt with you could want. That's Redwall Abbey."
Magramba sets the bland, boring blueberry aside in favor of the mystery pie. "I must really be missing something, then." The warrior pulls up a chair and sits down as well, pulling a knife from somewhere and offering it to Castus. "Probably because I'm too busy with the food." He shrugs. If that's the sacrifice he has to make, then so be it. "So where've you been lately? Flick was telling me they had some trouble on the road today. Seems odd. I thought most of the vermin were farther out in Mossflower these days."
Castus humpfs and takes two big slices out for both of them. "It's something I've been keeping an eye on, but I need help actually *doing* something about it. It's true, vermin have come right up to the gates in recent weeks. One fox was... *decent*... but the rest are out looking for trouble. Shoulda put an arrow 'tween their eyes moment I saw them. I think Camp Willow might be under attack. Lee got a letter from a mate of his up there. Sounds bad. I was going to head up there soon and see if I can't help sort it out myself."
"I think I heard something about that," Magramba affirms, nodding as the pie is dished out, and looking around for forks on the table before pushing his seat back. "They really oughta just keep these out," he mutters, rummaging through the drawers. "Ran into one of them near the snake, but... the snake," he resumes, coming back to the table and shoving a piece of flatware across to Castus.
"Snakes," Castus agrees. "Can't abide by them. Best to just kill 'em where you find them. I once almost got killed in a snake pit once. Nasty business."
"They're just so bloody /huge,/" Magramba agrees, sinking the shiny silver tines into the flaky crust and gooey, unrecognizable filling. "Hard to get around to do any real damage without getting your head snapped off." A bite of pie gets popped into his mouth, making its way past the large incisors of his kind. "...s'actually pretty good," he admits around the mouthful, nodding his approval.
"It is. So what do we do about the vermin?" Castus wonders through a mouth full of pie. "Throw 'em down a pit? Surprise ambush on a path? Smoke them out? Boring negotiations? Now that you're here we need to get stuff *done*, Mag!" he says excitedly, reaching over to tap his shoulder. "You and me, like old times. We'll show them who's boss!"
Magramba sighs, tapping at his plate with the fork. "Why do things always go straight downhill when I come around," he mutters, prodding the pie. Just a few minutes ago he was telling someone this is the only place where someone can always relax! /Can't be helped,/ he decides, accepting it as his lot in life. "Well, the obvious answer would be negotiating," he begins. "-if I were Abbot of Redwall. Or otherwise affiliated with this place in an official capacity. Since I'm /not,/ though..." He grins. "I'd lean towards some good old-fashioned backwoods justice." Say one thing for the vigilante business; it's always open.
"That's what I'm talking about," Castus says with a grin of his own. Two seasons ago this look would have been terrifying on young, sweet, never-hurt-nobody Castus. But now it fits him like a glove. "Should we leave now? Or wait for Lee to get up and kiss his wife g'bye so he can come with? Longer we wait more bodies there'll be."
Magramba looks like he's contemplating slamming his forehead against the table or stabbing the fork into his eye. It's between those two. "...Flick wants me to stay for now."
Castus blinks. "Oh. Uh. Why? That sounds remarkably counterproductive." He leans in closer, now whispering conspiratorially. "Is it all part of the plan, like some cunning subterfuge or something?"
"Something like that," Magramba replies, shaking his head and blinking rapidly to clear away his confusion, thumb pressing on the tips of the tines of his fork. He lowers his voice as well, leaning towards the table more than anything. "He... he wants me to take Martin's sword. I keep telling him no."
Castus blinks again. "He wants to... *give* you... The Sword. The Sword that Martin used, The Sword that the Abbey was built on, the legend. That Sword. And you said *no*?" He huffs and sits back in his chair. "And he didn't even ask *me*," he mutters, waving a paw. "Well, whatever. *Why* does he want to give you the sword so badly?"
"On a temporary basis," Magramba qualifies hastily, pushing the tines back a little and bending them, probably by accident. "He seems to think it would give us a chance to surprise them, because normally /he/ has it, but then when /I/ had it, it would confuse them... or something like that. You know how he is, it's hardly a cohesive plan right now." The blunt end of the fork gets thumped against the table absentmindedly before the squirrel realizes he's fidgeting and tosses it down. "I said no because I don't see why it would even matter. I have a sword. A sword is a sword. Being behind a tree when they don't know it doesn't become more of a surprise because the sword I'm holding happens to be some mythical badger toenail or whatever it's made of."
"Meteor," Castus says in a tone that is actually rather petulantly nerdy. He looks down at the ground, scratching his ear. "It was made from a *meteor* and *forged* by Badger Lord Boar back in - well, look, anyway, it's a silly idea and we should just *go* before we get others dragged into it. Right? We just waste more time the more *plans* we make, those never work anyway!"
As someone who grew up well out of sight of the rosy red walls, the story of Martin only does so much for the serious-minded squirrel. "Right," comes his dry response, nodding. "It just seems like a lot of responsibility, and I don't have the best track record with that sort of thing..." The sword waiting for him in the Champion's cottage isn't even the same one he had when he was hanging out with Castus last. "I break stuff. A lot of stuff. It's a bad idea." He's said as much multiple times to multiple people, and the tired nature of the story is clear in his tone. "He /did/ ask me to wait, though, and he is a friend." He pauses for a moment. "On the other paw, he is a fox."
Castus spreads his arms. "Then what're we waiting for?"
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