A Gamble with the Devil/The Duelists

[Tinsy Stormsight]

OOC: (w/ Terragon)

BIC:

It was chilly in the pre-dawn morning, and a light fog hung over all - fortunately, it looked like one of those rare warm days was about to break, and traveling should be easy. Rippla leaned against the gates to Terralux, awaiting his travel companion.
The weasel had dressed for a journey - sturdy boots and a pack. This didn't look very full, suggesting that he intended to fend for himself food-wise. There actually wasn't much inside..a waterskin, knife, and three notes. One was from Regen, discussing Terralux's need. The squirrel had gotten Terragon to sign it the night before. The other was from Lonas, to be given to the otter who ran the ferry across River Moss. Apparently the guy owed the merchant a favor. The third was his old military papers, to get them an audience with Burde.
The weasel had brought his rapier with him, of course, and his heavy fur cloak was also in the pack, just in case. He was ready to go.
Still, he had to wait for Anglafallen, who was supposed to be accompanying him. Rippla knew why, of course..even if Regen trusted him, Terragon obviously didn't. The rat was there to keep an eye on him.

A figure approached through the fog. Rippla glanced up to see who it was..

---

[The Duelists]
"Here we go, aye?"
Regen grinned cheerily at his brother as the two strolled through the morning toward the Tavern. Lonas rolled his eyes slightly and did his best weary impression.
"Sure, Reg'. What're ye gonna do if Tuscaro gives in, huh? I swear, it's almost like ye're looking forward t' a fight 't th' death."
They skirted the fountain in the middle of the Terralux fort and turned toward the side where their target building was.
"Of course, uncouth savage wot I am!" Regen waves an airy paw in the fog - clearly, he stayed up all night drinking. It seemed unlikely that he'd be drunk already at this time of the morning. "A duel afore breakfast is exactly what I likes!"
"Right." Lonas mumbles something as the two step onto the porch. It had been all he could do to get Regen to go to the Tavern before opening time, instead of at theatrical high noon. They went along to the back, Regen fairly dancing for eagerness.
Lonas shoved in front of his brother before they reached the back door and knocked. He knew Tuscaro would be up, because the Tavern owner woke around three in the morning to get ready for the beasts that came to the Tavern for breakfast. Including, of course, himself and Regen. Now was a reasonable time to lay the request on the other.

OOC: Terri, I assume you're gonna be Tuscaro..

[Terragon Scrufftail]

*Through the fog, tiny, quiet footpaws hurry. Danniar too was dressed for travelling, wearing her warmest of three cloaks over her usual clothing. It had formerly belonged to Ashnel, although it's clear that it was never intended for use in the Northlands.*
*She'd resisted Terragon's offers of help, packing her own bag in a few minutes the night before. Of course, she'd known the squirrel wouldn't let her stay in Terralux. Not with the battle plans, not with Tuscaro. It was nearly laughable and doubtlessly Terragon meant well. And maybe not trusting Rippla had something to do with it, although Danniar suspects... well... truth be told, the rat is, for once, a little unsure and, for the first time, shy as she approaches Rippla. A little knife with a wood and bone handle is held close to Danniar's side by her rope belt, her brother's letter - parchment weary with the number of readings - re-folded into a small square in her bag. She half-raises a paw in greeting as she nears the gates. No words. Danniar waits for Rippla to speak, not entirelty sure if he will.*

*On the other side of Terralux, a thin face turns, it eyes narrowing in a puzzled frown. Anglafellen? She was the only barmaid who'd be here at this hour, but the scuttling dibbun of a rat hadn't returned since... Olivah Tuscaro had been angry, maybe even a little drunk on his own ales. And Anglafellen annoyed him; deep down in his mind he knows she was friends with the black squirrel. The one who, without even pulling an unpleasant face, gave him looks of disgust on the few nights he entered the Whispering Willow. Alashia? Tuscaro isn't sure of his name. Only, from gossips in the Tavern, that his puritanical fool of a sister had left Terralux with the island squirrel, Elmroot.* Door's not lock'd, *The weasel barks. His throat is sore and his head aches and it shows in his voice. If it's Anglafellen, He decides with nonchalant certainity. I'll wallop her for missing work.*