A strange Otter, indeed - Mossflower 2/27/21

Ol'random · 2021-03-01 08:16:17 PM

John a squirrel and Swithin an otter.

While he'd not lost count of the days John had reached a point in which he was rather sick of the cold and wet and above all following the same trek upstream. The wildcat and company seemed to deviate little and the ruin in their wake the squirrel had never been quick enough to stop, arriving at destroyed camps and settlements days after the vermin moved through. Now though - John had remembered the river had a rather large bend ahead. It should be that cutting through the woods for some miles should lead him to the river again and hopefully in front of the vermin. And so that's what he was doing, leaping from tree branch to tree branch while doing his upmost to avoid the snow.

Swithin is trudging through the brush, the stout otter using his makeshift spear as a walking stick while he's hunched against the cold. He does not talk, but he makes enough noise just crashing through the winter-dead bushes for any three beasts. It would be easy to hear him coming! He stays far enough back from the river that he can barely see it, even if it does make a good landmark, and he constantly looks around.

John 's ears perk at the sound and the squirrel pauses, hanging onto a birch branch to listen. Unable to see the source of the sound he crawls down the tree to stand to stand upright, unslinging his sword from across his back to place it about his waist. With a paw on resting o the hilt he leans back against the trunk facing the direction the sounds are.
"Hello there!" The squirrel calls out, waiting a beat for an answer. Hopefully he hasn't mistakenly shouted at a host of beasts he thinks, mildly regretting the words.

Swithin freezes in place when he hears your voice, the otter staying still for a few long seconds before he crashes out of the brush, his spear held before him. He pauses to eye you and frowns when he sees your weaponry. He hesitates a moment before gripping his spear tighter, "You got food?" His voice is rusty, sounding more like a sea beast, and though he has broad shoulders, his waist is a bit lean, even for an otter.

John eyes the otter and the spear point. "Ah do, bu' Ah cannae say it'd enough worth fore ye." The squirrel keeps his paw on the hilt, standing straighter as he moves to the side of the tree, facing the other creature all the while. There's still an easiness in his voice despite his poster though. "Been a rough winter fore ye, were it?"

Swithin frowns again and glances around when you mention winter. If anything, the otter looks a bit baffled before he shrugs, "Winter. Rough. Food." A beast of few words, or maybe he is just not used to speaking? He clearly looks unhappy with the cold, and stomps his footpaws in the snow a bit before asking, "Always cold?" Still, he's holding his spear like..well, like it's his only weapon. A beast with martial experience could easily see that he knows little beyond 'the pointy end is dangerous'.

"Ye'd be forgiven thinkin' always cold," John visibly relaxes when the otter doesn't just strike out at him, "What with th'past few months. Ah cannae share ah'food Ah got as there's no place to get more least were Ah'm heading." It seems the few words spoken by the otter don't bother the squirrel much, though perhaps that has more to do with the spear pointed his way than anything else. "There's a village an' Abbey a ways thataway-" A paw is waved west and south behind the squirrel, "An' ye'd find better fare there than on me. Alls Ah got is hard tack an' dried fruit."

Swithin glances in the direction you gesture while his brow furrows again, "Otherbeasts talk of Abbey. What's Abbey?" He shivers again and lowers his spear so he can pull his makeshift cloak tighter to his body with a scowl at nothing in particular, "Cold Abbey?"

With a wry laugh John shakes his head. "No, an' frankly methinks it's th'only place round here that's no' cold. Ye'd certainly get a hot meal at least - if ye mind that spear o'course." For the first time the sword hilt is released as the spear is lowered, though the paw is kept close to the weapon. "It's m'bad luck t'be out here, it were, been huntin' some vermin if ye've seen any here abouts. Bad bunch, and hard t'miss Ah'd say."

Swithin's head snaps back towards you when you mention vermin, and you can hear the wood of his spear creak when he squeezes it, "Vermin evil!" He's raising the spear, but he's looking around instead of focusing on you, "They near?" It seems he has his own feelings on vermin, and as he spins to look behind himself, his cloak flutters just enough to show some of the thin scarring of many lash-marks on his back.

John steps back despite himself, and his paw drifts back to his sword as the spear is raised once again. "They've been movin' up river, they have, have a few boats." Not missing the scars the squirrel forces himself to be at ease and let go of the hilt. "Ah wouldn' worry much abou' them if Ah were ye, as they're a growin' band of well very evil vermin as ye said, they are."

Swithin glances towards the river when you mention it and actually seems to shiver before looking back towards you, "You will kill?" He finally thinks to lower his spear again, and his rudder thumps in the snow, "Should find food. Where's Abbey?"

"Ah'll kill if Ah can." There's a grimness to John's voice as he says so. "As fore th'abbey, if ye follow th' river downstream t'th'big stone bridge, just head south down th'road till ye see it. Cannae miss th'dammned thing; big red walls an' all tha', y'know."

Swithin glances at the river again and then thumps the butt of his spear on the ground, "Follow river. Big bridge." The otter then pauses to rub his muzzle and ask, "What's 'bridge'?"

For the first time the squirrel seems genuinely befuddled. "Och. A bridge-" John pauses for a moment thinking how to explain a bridge. Certainly not something he's had to do before. "Like a ford, bu' above water an' dry?"

Swithin scratches behind his left ear and squints at you in puzzlement before he perks up, "Goes over river? Like..ship?" Another glance given to the running waters, "Safe?"

"Knows a ship bu' no bridge..." John's even more perplexed. "Yea, ship-like, stays in one place though, it does. It's safe, safer than a ship at least." Head tilted to one side he peers at the otter as if seeing him for the first time. "Yore no' land beast are ye?"

Swithin relaxes when you say it's safer than a ship. At your question, the otter frowns, "Oarslave since a pup. Born on verminship." He brandishes his spear again, "But freebeast now! Ship attacked by other vermin. Took all oarslaves they want. Lock rest below with defeated vermin and sink ship. Woke up on land."

"Well, glad fore ye freedom then." John replies after a second or two of mulling the story over, absentmindedly rubbing his wrist. "As fore th' bridge - ye won' need t'cross it, an' ye know abou' a road, aye? Just keep an eye out fore tha' an' head south when yore on it an' ye'll be fine, methinks."

Swithin nods, "Lucky. Allbeasts die in water. Fall over, thrown over, or sunk. Never live." He thumps his chest, "But me." He looks down river again and rubs his muzzle, "Road like dry river, yes?"

John dips his head in agreement. "Aye, dry river's an apt term. Follow it south an' ye'll see th'abbey." Confident now the otter won't attack the squirrel unbuckles the sword and slings the weapon back over his shoulder. "It's also easier t'travel on - th' snows been packed down there an' ye shouldnae have much problem managin'."

Swithin nods again and looks up at the sky, "Many days? Cold here. Always cold here?" His rudder thumps in the snow again, "Cold on ship only sometimes."

"It'll be cold here fore a few more months." The squirrel shrugs. "Ah cannae rightly say. Winter's always a fickle thing, eh?" John glances past the otter towards where he knew the river lay, eager to move on. "As fore th' abbey - it's warm there, an' as lon' as ye don' go makin' trouble ye should be welcomed there."

Swithin shakes his head, "How many days to Abbey?" He pauses and ponders the new word, "Winter..Hmm.." The otter nods, and sidesteps, "Must walk." He then hesitates, brow furrowing as he tries to think of something he once heard. A moment later, he perks up with a smile, "Thank. You."

"Welcome," John allows himself a small smile in return, "An' thank ye fore no' skewerin' me with yore spear!" The squirrel would offer a paw but thinks better of it, unsure of how the otter would take the gesture. "Name's John, by th' by, an' if ye tell th'abbey beasts Ah sent ye it could help twa'. An' if ye'd b'kindly enough t'tell them th' vermin are leaving Mossflower, Ah'd be much obliged, Ah would."

Swithin nods, "John." The otter taps his chest, "Swithin!" He then taps his head, "Tell abbeybeasts vermin leaving. Yes."

John nods, "Swithin, good name. An' thank ye." Before leaving, the squirrel takes off his pack, fetching something from inside. "Here, it's a few days t'th'road if ye make good time, then half a day south t'th'abbey." Tossing a formless sack to the otter he adds, "That's enough food methinks t'get ye there, an' be careful abou' th'tack - ye can break teeth on it if ye go tae fast, ye can."

Swithin blinks in surprise and catches the sack, though he nearly drops his makeshift spear to do so. A moment of fumbling and he has both secure in his paws, his eyes going wide, "Food?" He pauses and looks at you, "John has enough? Not starve?"

"Eh, Ah can manage." The squirrel is already moving on, speaking as he goes, "Food might be a bit tae fair a term for it, but it'll keep ye goin'. Plus Ah can forage Ah suppose." John stops at the base of an oak tree looking up an apprising the branches. He turns to wave at the otter. "Ah'll be leaving' now, bu' good luck - jus' follow th' river downstream till ye hit the road an' bridge, then head south 'till ye see a great red mass an' that's the abbey."

Swithin nods and smiles to you, "Luck killing verminbeasts!" The otter nods, sidles a few steps further away from the river, and continues on his own way with one last call, "Careful of river, too!"

"Indeed Ah will! Ye be careful as well, Swithin!" John calls after him, before turning and climbing back into the tree tops. Hopefully the otter can find his way safely, but the squirrel had more pressing matters to worry about now.

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#1 2021-03-01 08:16:17 PM

A strange Otter, indeed - Mossflower 2/27/21

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