Guarding the walls

[Tinsy Stormsight]

OOC: Open for anyone..probably is good for character intros especially (hint hint.) Yep.

BIC:

It was midafternoon, and had been a nice day. The sun had even come out and warmed the damp ground..which turned everything into a sort of warm mush, but was better than nothing. The entire village was out, doing various things..working on the wall, setting up tents, drying out clothing. It was all rather rushed, as the warm sun was about to be blocked out by a massive black cloud.
Regen strolled through the crowd in the village square, ignoring various complaints about things. The golden squirrel was getting good at being detatched, and..well, and Rippla-like. He could see why his weasel friend tended to ignore other beasts. It would seem that every creature that saw him wanted something.
Regen had taken to diverting them towards Lonas or Terragon by now. Usually he couldn't help them anyway.

Currently he was on his way to the wall..the wooden wall. The gates, in fact, where he'd set up four or five guards (mostly 'borrowed' from the guilds) to keep an eye on who went in and out. The last thing Terralux needed was a plague, so the guards were in charge of turning away anyone who was sick. This resulted in lots of angry letters arriving at the Nest, but Regen didn't care much about that. Tomin used the paper ones as kindling, and sent the vellum to the recycling area to be made into new pieces.
Thunder rumbled overhead as the Woodland Captain made his way to the gates. It was easier than usual..evidently most of the creatures waiting to get in had diverted to the lakeshore, where they were setting up camp. Well, it didn't really concern Regen what went on outside the walls, as long as beasts weren't using the well as a latrine inside. Probably they figured the walls would be closing due to the storm, so nobeast had to stand outside. Probably true.
Three beasts were on guard..one on top of the gates, two on the ground. They were mostly vermin..a ferret and two foxes. Regen nodded to them curtly.
"Keep th' gates op'n unt'l th' rain starts, then ye c'n close up shop fer th' day."
The foxes nodded. Regen wandered through the gates and into the road outside, where a group of beasts were digging the last of the trench. The rat Jonah was overseeing them, with much barking of orders. Regen smirked and looked up the road for oncoming creatures. Wouldn't hurt to get an idea of how many could be expected in the next ten minutes or so..

[Shale August]

Shale August was in no hurry, even as the great mass of cloud in the sky crept up on the sun, for she had no fear of rain, or storms. There was no need, there was never any need, for her to rush and exert herself, and so she never did. She always walked at the same pace, with a hint of a swagger in her casual, lazy gait, as she wandered over hill and vale.

Today was no different. The pine marten had lunched only a short while before, on a hill overlooking the big red mountain by the sea, on stolen food as usual. This time, she had stolen from a rather uncooperative rat, whose corpse was now decaying in a quiet copse two hour’s walk from the place they called Redwall, in the depths of Mossflower Wood. He had possessed some cheese, a loaf of bread, and a cask of wine, as well as an impertinent attitude. Shale had taken the cheese and bread, and eaten both for lunch, while she had left the cask of wine with the dead rat. She had no use for anything that could possibly cloud her mind.

She had finished the last of the cheese and bread for lunch, and she did not know when her next meal would come along, but for now she was content. Her stomach purred contentedly as she swaggered along, sharpening her black claws with the Damascus steel of the navaja in her right paw. It was something of a habit, something to distract the marten from the constant toil of walking all day long, but something that would have to cease as soon as it began to rain. Which it would very soon.

With a sigh she snapped the folding knife shut and tossed it in the air, spinning it with her thumb and index finger. The figured maple grip landed lightly in Shale’s open paw, only to be slid over the heel of the hand and into the waiting sheath half-concealed in the chocolate-colored fur of the underside of her forearms. Knitting her fingers together and stretching, she slowly began to resume walking, along the muddy path. Less and less light from the shadowed sun filtered through the canopy to lighten the forest, and this suited the naturally nocturnal marten fine.

Yet what was this? In the distance, less than three minutes walk along the woodland road, in an obvious clearing, stood some kind of fort. If it could even be called that – Shale had seen far more impressive constructions even in her rural homeland. Her thoughts flitted back to her past for a split second, dwelling on the pleasant memory of the first time she had looked upon the castle of Gutxiar, before she looked back up at the settlement at the end of the path. There were gates there, and she guessed there was some kind of lettering on the arch above it, yet she did not bother to read it.

In fact, she couldn’t. She was completely illiterate, she admitted with bitterness, but it didn’t matter. She knew where this place was. She had heard one of the associates of the rat from the day before talking of a fort, at the end of “the fat muddy road to that damned lake”, a fort by the name of Terralux. She had decided to follow the road only through curiosity, yet as she grew nearer, she gradually began to feel a long-unfelt emotion rising within her – anticipation. She could see foxes, ferrets, rats and squirrels all alongside each other, a welcome sight to her eyes, and she had reason to believe that perhaps she would not have to do quite as much work as she had done the previous day to obtain some dinner.

Her leisurely pace did not change, and neither did her expression, but still she tucked her clenched paws in her jacket pockets as she walked. The wind was picking up, yet Shale knew that at this rate she had a chance of having a roof over her head before it began to rain. While she didn’t mind if it rained on her, it was still preferable not to have that happen, she reasoned, as her curiosity overcame her. From the increasingly closer distance, she could see the arms carried by some of the beasts waiting by the gate – perhaps these were among the legendary warriors of Mossflower?

A grin tugged lightly at the corners of the marten’s mouth as she neared the gates. Ten paces, nine paces, eight paces… Her light, swaggering gait slowly carried her towards the construction, which she could now see was not quite complete. That didn’t matter, and neither did the workers or the guards there. Yet there was one beast there that caught her eye – a squirrel, standing on the threshold of the fort alone, and more importantly, doing nothing. He looked important enough.

As she reached the gates and the squirrel, she paused and looked down very swiftly to check the condition of her black, cotton canvas outfit. It was fine, except for the splatters of mud on the bottom edges of her loose pants, and the frayed edges of her black sash. More things that didn’t matter, not to her. Flicking her right wrist, she let the navaja strapped to her arm slide partway into her paw, ready to be opened as soon as she needed it. With a slight smirk on her otherwise impassive face, she walked forward with the same laziness that characterized every aspect of her life. And now, she thought, for my grand entrance.

“So, zis eez Terralux?"

[Tinsy Stormsight]

Odd..nobeast was coming at all. Regen frowned slightly at the path, then shrugged. Well, if God wanted to bless Terralux with no newcomers for an hour, who was he to argue?
The golden squirrel turned, studying the area around him thoughtfully. Besides the ditchdiggers and the guards on the wooden walltop, almost nobeast was around. A few creatures loitered on the path, but they were as far away as possible from both the gate and the work crews. Clearly Jonah had discouraged strangers from standing around near his..that is, Terralux's..tools and supplies. A good choice. Regen had, by now, learned that these gypsies and vermin would steal anything from chairs to handkerchiefs if nobeast was watching. Obviously he'd chosen well for his head builder.
That was one good thing, at least.
Speaking of guards..the fox was nodding at somebeast behind Regen. The squirrel twitched an ear back, listening...yes indeed, there was someone coming up behind him. He'd have missed it if the fox guard hadn't pointed it out to him. Regen smiled slightly at the fox, but didn't turn.
“So, zis eez Terralux?"
The squirrel frowned slightly, his back still turned. The accent was one he hadn't heard in a while..not since that Frankish mouse, whatever his name was, had been around. It was French, and very heavy. Clearly whoever this was was not a native of the English lands.
That made two of them. Or three, if you counted Lonas.
Regen turned sharply, head held high so as to look down on whoever it was. That usually worked to intimidate, as he was fairly tall.

He glanced the newbeast over quickly. A pine marteness, it would appear, wearing black canvas. An interesting choice, especially during the cold and wet season. Perhaps this lady was a traveler from somewhere even farther off than France...even Regen knew not to wear anything but wool during this time of year, and a hat. (which he'd forgotten again.)
"This 's it." Regen didn't bother smiling, as the other didn't appear to expect it. That was fine with him..Regen was friendlier than most, but it never hurt to be on one's guard..especially considering the current state of affairs. What with England fighting amongst itself..the various war barons versus Tervin Blackstar, and he wouldn't be suprised to see Blackstar challenging the king before too long..one could never be too careful.
"'Tis clearly not what ye were expectin'. I assure ye, we are not usually in this curr'nt state."

The squirrel frowned slightly, unable to keep his face as straight as some others could. What exactly a French pine marten was doing here he didn't know. England and France, as far as he knew, were at war..last he'd heard Joan d'Arc of France had been captured and burned as a witch or a heretic or something. French beasts didn't simply come strolling through any more..not without being heavily armed. Neither did they usually talk to anyone who wasn't obviously of their nation..Regen, in his youth, had met several Frenchmen who visited Spain for one reason or another.
She couldn't be a spy or anything similar, else she'd have had her accent trained out of her. Also, she wouldn't be at Terralux, of all places..she'd be in London or, he supposed, Copperlin, not some little town out in the middle of Mossflower County.
Well, he'd might as well ask.
"If ye don't mind me askin', Miss, what exactly are ye' doin' here? Englan' is not th' safest place fer French t' go wanderin' nowdays, as ye prob'ly know."

[Shale August]

Shale was slightly taken aback when the tall squirrel suddenly turned to face her with his head raised haughtily. He was not smiling, or looking particularly friendly, yet he did not look hostile, quite unlike some of the others she had encountered on her journey. This was quite a welcome change. Most of the others who had been hostile to her had ended up with a knife between their ribs, which was never very good for the blade of her precious navaja.

“This 's it.” He replied, in answer to her question. Which, she retorted in the security of her mind, was rhetorical. “'Tis clearly not what ye were expectin'. I assure ye, we are not usually in this curr'nt state.”

What could she say to that? It was true. She had expected something more impressive from the famed soldiers of Mossflower, there was no denying that. However, she was still not quite sure what she had been expecting. The area was quite flat, the terrain even, and obviously not the best of places for building the impressive castles that she knew from her travels. Now, that red mountain from the day before – that had potential. Either these Mossflower beasts were simply stupid, or they knew something she didn’t.

It was only then, in the silence, that Shale noticed that the squirrel seemed slightly uneasy - that, in turn, made her uneasy. Her thumb stroked the smooth handle of the navaja lying partway in her paw, her other fingers itching to whip the blade out. Obviously, it wasn’t quite appropriate, yet it felt odd to greet someone without visible weapons. But then, she had only met enemies – obstacles on her path – so far, and it had been logical to get everything over with quickly.

At least this golden squirrel seemed welcoming enough to engage in some talk. Most of Shale’s victims hadn’t even had the civility to say anything to her, and when they did it had been exclusively insults. The pine marten had rarely replied, but whenever she did she only succeeded in intensifying the abuse, which she didn’t actually mind. It was a quite interesting way to expand vocabulary, especially in a language that was to her, even in its original form, crude and disrespectful.

“If ye don't mind me askin', Miss, what exactly are ye' doin' here? Englan' is not th' safest place fer French t' go wanderin' nowdays, as ye prob'ly know.” The golden squirrel finally spoke, expressing quite plainly what he had obviously been pondering in the awkward silence that had followed his previous comment. However, his words did not fail to insult her, and immediately the folding knife sprang open.

Still restrained, she very carefully stroked the length of the grained blade, in what was meant to be a warning to the squirrel, but was more of a calming exercise for her. With a sigh, she raised her brown eyes to look the squirrel straight on. “For French, you say. For French, but I… I am not French.” It did seem slightly contradictory to Shale even as she said it – her accent was too strong. “I am Basque, but I was trained as a soldier of fortune in la Suisse. And, anywayz, ze trees of England are as safe as ze trees at ‘ome.” It was an odd statement to make, and perhaps the squirrel, even as a squirrel, would not understand. “None can defeat me in ze trees, Mister.”

With a smirk, she flipped the navaja in the air. If the squirrel did not believe her – well then, he had a problem on his golden paws.

[Tinsy Stormsight]

The knife came out immediately, suprising Regen slightly. Only eight years of training kept him from jumping back and drawing his short sword..instead, he carefully placed a paw on the blade's hilt and raised an eyebrow.
See, he'd learned something from Lonas' 'lessons in not killing people'. He had, actually, mastered the 'quick comeback' part of it quite well.
“For French, you say. For French, but I… I am not French. I am Basque, but I was trained as a soldier of fortune in la Suisse. And, anywayz, ze trees of England are as safe as ze trees at ‘ome. None can defeat me in ze trees, Mister.”
Hmm..a Basque. Well that explained everything. It also explained why the pine marten was here in the first place..looking for work. Although, Regen didn't think that 'soldier of fortune' was on the top of lists for most female beasts. Still, stranger things had happened.
He watched as she flipped that knife in the air, trying (somewhat unsuccessfully) not to scoff openly. That was extremely unimpressive..every young fox in the Tavern did..or tried..to do that. Everybeast ignored a knife-tosser, although never a sword-swallower.

"A Basque, aye?" Regen put on a heavy dose of the Spanish brand of arrogance, his dark brown eyes cool. "I couldn't tell."
He'd never met a Basque before, of course..that gave him an excuse for mistaking her for a Frog. Obviously this pine marten had been in society more recently than himself, as well, or she wouldn't be so quick to pull her knife to prove her nationality. Duels, he knew, were very popular in France and Spain right now. Regen had fought several himself when he was off visiting his family (that being whenever he couldn't avoid it.)
Well, he'd be glad to exchange rudeness for rudeness. Of course, Regen wasn't going to draw a weapon..he could probably beat this pine marteness on the ground, and he wouldn't give her a chance to run to a tree. Squirrel he might be, but his childhood's vineyards and olive trees hadn't given him much opportunty to climb.
Also, he had the wrong weapons for it.
"I'd 'eard that th' Basques were rude, but I'd ne'er seen it 'till now. I s'ppose there's one in e'ery nat'n..'tis th' poor royalty class, usually. Th' Gascons, in France, are full of 'em, I 'ear."
He didn't smirk, but it was an effort. Comparison to a Gascon ought to sting for anyone who had ever been in the general area of France.

Regen watched the pine marten for a reaction, paw still on his sword hilt. The chances of her going for him with that little knife were pretty high, although she might see sense and not attack him. After all, he'd done everything to indicate that he was as important as he really was. Stabbing him would be asking for trouble..if not immediately, then definitely later after Rippla Forlinost found out about it.

[Arrowbrush Macburl]

(OOC: Scuse me butting in an' all)
Arrowbrush Macburl watched the two beasts for some time, From a tree (arrowbrush's fur is tree-cloured)But she could not stop her teeth chattering with anger at the pine marten's boast,"None can defeat me in the trees.''She was thinking: Why, I,Arrowbrush once deafeated a treerat leader who was taller than me! I could spar all day and still not fall off the thinest branch! (arrowbrush is rakkaty tam's direct decendant.) So she jumped down from her perch and faced the squirrel who was on guard and the pine marten. 'ye'll exuse mah saying, lass, but ah think ye're goin' a wee bit too far,sayin' ye could beat anybeast when ye're in a tree!' Her falcon friend, Mctalon, came fluttering out of nowhere to sit on her shouldor. 'kraak! ye art goin' to far indeed, lass, sayin' that!'

[Baraka]

Up the path strides two figures, both clearly conversing animatedly. One, a tall and quite muscular red squirrel, is dressed in a muddy blue tunic and a pair of dark pants, though the most prominent article of clothing on him is his hat, a wide, red chapeau, with a fluffy black feather clipped to the side. A large, heavy-looking pack hangs off of his shoulders, and at his belt hangs a sword, though it is not nearly as impressive as the long wooden lance hitched to his pack.

The other is also a red squirrel, though female, while the other is male. She is dressed similarly to the other, though her tunic is red, and she wears no hat. She also carries a sword, though instead of a lance hitched to her pack, she carries a long pike.

As the newcomers walk closer to the gate, their conversation becomes more audible:

"... I don't expect they'll be out to meet us; my last letter said we'd be here tomorrow."

"It doesn't matter, either way. We can just call for them," The female squirrel replies.

The other shrugs.
"Very well, then- Ah! That must be the gate ahead of us!"

The travellers stop at the gate, and the male squirrel hails Regen and the guards.
"Maximilian and Tania Adalric here to see Baraka MacErlon and Father Patrick O'Kerrie.

The two wait for a response.

[Tinsy Stormsight]

'ye'll exuse mah saying, lass, but ah think ye're goin' a wee bit too far,sayin' ye could beat anybeast when ye're in a tree!'
'kraak! ye art goin' to far indeed, lass, sayin' that!'

Because, of course, a challenge was exactly what was required at the moment. Regen rolled his eyes and sighed quietly.
The accent suggested a Scot, which meant that he would have another problem on his hands. These Northerners were a pain, though, and maybe he ought to let the Basque marteness deal with this one. It would serve the durn fool right.
But then, he'd get in trouble for letting someone get killed smack in front of him.
"Excuse me," he said to the marteness, nodded, and turned to the Scots with some irritation.
"Kindly d' not attempt t' inst'gate fights, miss. If th' lady says that nobody can beat her in the trees, you'd better damn take her word for it. Th' chanc's of ye havin' had half the trainin' with small knives she must 'ave t' wield that thing 'r very small, an' we need all th' bandages we c'n spare. Keep quiet or I shall have th' guards remove ye."
He stares the bird down warningly, although he hasn't said anything to him...it...whatever, and looks up the path. Two more are coming, both squirrels.
The male looks oddly familiar..Baraka MacErlon, the only Scot with a brain that Regen can think of offhand.

"Maximilian and Tania Adalric here to see Baraka MacErlon and Father Patrick O'Kerrie."
Yeah, like he thought. Regen turns his attention from the squirrel and the bird and nods again, studying the newcomers. One in a hat, with a Latin-sounding last name. Difficult to tell what nationality he might be of, although the chapeu suggests time in France. The squirrel carries himself like a soldier, and also has a familiar weapon on him..lance.
One of his own, then.
The female has a pike, which suggests a guard of some kind. Foot soldiers, unless they were anti-cavalry, didn't usually carry pikes around. Neither of the two look like nobility of any kind, and neither bear a shield or have any livery visible on their clothing. Difficult to tell where they might be from, then.
May as well let them in. Couldn't hurt.
"Ye'll find th' good Fath'r an' Master MacErlon in th' Apothecary, I believe. Carry on an' take an immediate lef'. Ye can't miss it..there'll be a group of unsavory foxes aroun'."

[Leatha Karilia]

*Leatha Karilia watched from the trees and was surprised by Arrowbrush's emergence as she had not seen her. Even as Arrowbrush was seething with anger, she was as calm as ever about the comments made by the pine martin,...maybe she was good but Leatha had learned to let actions speak instead of words, the pine martin could boast all she wanted, Leatha knew she could beat her, the other squirrel?....she would definitely be a challenge but Leatha was the best of the best when it came to climbing. She was a red squirrel, her fur a lovely reddish-light brown color, her chest and stomach were of the purest cream color and her large dark brown eyes were surrounded by long curling eyelashes and her balance was perfect as she adjusted her blue cap and light green short sleeved tunic. The only weapon she was wearing was a sling but her dirk lay in her bag. She may look light and frail but no-one was better than her in the use of these weapons. She dropped down lightly from the tree and scampered up the fort wall she stood at the top, balancing on the top before dropping down to the ground. Running across to where the others were talking she tapped Regen on the back, before speaking in her light but strong voice*

Excuse me sir, my name is Leatha Karilia and I'd like to know if I could maybe stay the night or something.

[Oakfang]

PABLO!! **The sounds of herself screaming and the pained crys of masses of vermin still hung in her ears, repeating itself like a woodpecker pecking away at a tree. the insane screeching as she hacked the horrible beasts over and over in her mind getting louder and louder, Burrowing the sounds further and further into her brain.The young fox was covered in blood and injuries, but she did not heed them. in her arms was the still body of a dark pelted young wildcat, barely breathing.**

Hold on Pablo, it'll all be fine, we'll get you all better. **a few tears dripped onto his nose, and Pablo opened his eyes, and saw his big sisters beautiful reddish eyes glazed over with tears and tired. He lifted his unbroken paw to her face, and wiped the tears away**

Oakfang...Its ok, I know it'll all be fine. You need to make sure you get looked after too you know... **Oakfang paused her running for a second, and said to him**
but what about you? **Pablo smiled, and slipped into the half light, where he was close to everything. he could still feel Oakfangs warmth, but there was his and oakfangs family, not quite close enough to touch, but close.**
**Oakfang rounded the bend, crying openly, and saw the gates of the fort, she cried out in joy, and her eyes lit up with the flame of hope**
Hello up there! please let me in! my brother is hurt! **she held up the unconcious form of pablo, both their pelts were matted with blood, some their own, some not. and her eyes spoke of a true goodness, no matter what her species**

((OOC: I hope that wasn't too dramatic, I just like to make one HELL of an entrance ^^)

[Terragon Scrufftail]

*Kael's ears twitch at the sound of voices and he squints at the fox staggering up the path towards the walls. With the briefest of nods to the squirrels gathered outside he scrambles down the wooden steps, beckoning to Regen. Slipping on the damp wood, he jumps the final two and hurries towards the gates.* Capt'n Eale, could you give me a hand with gates? *The otter calls back over his shoulder. A huge wooden plank bars the settlement from the rest of Mossflower and takes at least two creatures to lift. All the same, Kael positions himself, shoulder and paws beneath the bar, ready to lift.*

[Oakfang]

**The young fox's paws shake as she holds Pablo in her arms. she has found the fort, she has found help. she too, drifts into the half light, and is next to her brother and her family.**

((OOC: BUMP!!!))

[Oakfang]

((Have people forgotted this place?))

[Terragon Scrufftail]

OOC: Not sure... I'm waiting for Regen to post.