A Show of Potential
Stubb, Amos, Sandy, Sha Rikktor, Carn, Frigg, Deathwatch, Soclose
Location: Marshank
"Couldn' get a bloody wink las' noigh'," Stubb says to no one in particular as he descends the stairs into the dusty light of the hallway. The floor is strewn with the residue of habitation. Bedrolls are crumpled in corners, flasks keeled over on their sides. The weasel wrinkles his nose, then pauses mid-step. Something catches his eye, and his brow darkens. He takes out his dirk.
Stubb moves forward as if drawn by a taut string. His small ears are pricked for signs of movement, and he squeezes the hilt of his blade.
Amos appears suddenly by Stubb's side, paw on his weapon as he looks foward and listens intently.
Sandy sleepily walks downstairs, yawning loudly. Though as she continued down, she saw Stubb and Amos standing side-by-side, weapons drawn. "What're you two doing now?"
From overtop the hall, in the rafters, the rain-soaked fox tries desperately not to drip atop their heads. He warily makes his way along the beams that seem least prone to creaking, at the risk of some of them being too rotted for treading... he eyes the stoat gleefully, wanting nothing more than to carry out his assignment..
Stubb spins to face Sandy, his weapon still clenched tightly, his slender body poised to spring. "Gah." The air leaks out of him, and his sinews slacken. "A'most a sloiced yore neck, bushtail." He waves the knife at the ground. "Fink our visitor's come back again." The tip of his blade points to a strange metal link that looks oddly out of place where it rests on the floorboards near the center of the room. He turns to notice the wildcat. "Coulda announced yorse'f afore creepin' up on me, ma'e."
"Hmph, where's the fun in that?" The wildcat gives him a toothy grin, "Now about this Visitor?" He looks about the hallway.
Sandy yawns tiredly, wondering if they were serious about it. Apparently she was a bit groggy, since she didn't even flince from nearly getting her throat cut. "Visitor...? Should I have a weapon ready?" she asked. Jeez, sleepy Sandy was a bit dumb.
Sha Rikktor tucks into a corner of two beams, away from the line of sight of their somewhat more alert eyes. He eyes the yawning squirrelmaid, switching his chain carefully to the other paw, avoiding making any sound with it. He hears a board creak, but not his own. He flinches, and hopes it will divert attention and not bring it unwanted.
"A weapon? Ay, moigh' be a noice oidea." Stubb chuckles. "If you can wield one." He turns back to Amos. "We gotta flush 'im out. Troi an' get tha bastard cornered an' then flsuh 'im out. Savvy?" The weasel walks to the middle of the room and picks up the link. "One a them bloody foxes. Oi seen dese marks before." He holds up the obsidian link so the others can see. It wears a barb on its side, and it seems to absorb all light except along its edges, which are etched in white like daybreak. Interweaving patterns of lines and stars cross its surface, redolent of Izmir, or some other far-flung land.
Amos sighs in disgust and grips the hilt of his weapon tightly, "Of course, another bloody fox. Maybe one of these days we'll run into somethin' more harmless like a bloody hamster, " He eyes Sandy, "Yes, you should. Get the sleep out of your eye, and make yourself useful!"
Sandy gives one final yawn, and rubs her eyes. "Right then, where'd I leave my cutlass..." she muttered, before giving a quick little search; promptly picking said weapon up off the floor. Good thing she got it. Once she had that, she started to glance around, trying to be more alert.
Sha_Rikktor grips the end of the chain to which the loosed barb was formerly parented... there were still three good, barbed ends, and of course the length of the chain was still in good shape. The fox decides it's enough waiting, and in one deft movement, swings down on a paw from the rafter, hanging there behind the drowsy Sandy. He makes the mistake of swinging the chain in the terrible position, but nevertheless, it catches the squirrel around the neck and one barb locks into an adjacent link, keeping her ensnared in its length. He drops from the rafter, tugging her to the ground and quickly untangling the chain with a jerk.
Stubb staggers backward a half-step at the fox's sudden descent into their midst. His grip weakens, then tightens again on the little blade, which he carries, ready, at the level of his rib cage. "Y--you?" He shakes himself. (Editor’s Note: Sha Rikktor is an all-white fox; Stubb mistakes him at first for Flicktail, whom he and Angus once met on the Dirt Road.)
Amos pulls his weapon free, hisses and holds the blade threateningly and stabs even more theateningly to keep the fox away.
Sandy was clearly not expecting anything to happen to her - no matter how often it seemed to. Getting something around her neck right out of the blue, she gasped in surprise, dropped her cutlass, and reached up to grab the chain; also falling over, apparently. "T-the hell?!"
The fox grabs the ragged cloth covering his face, and pulls back the band atop his head holding it fast, pulling the whole assembly back and away. The fox looks at Stubb, expressionless, his voice a sick, crackling bass with screeching overtones, "I know not you or 'dese wid you... so take dis nod personal..." He holds the chain up high, moving away from Sandy and toward the pair of the wildcat and stoat. Regardless of the shamefully short-ranged weapons, he flails the chain at them.
Stubb is barely within range of the chain, and he twitches backward to avoid its fierce sting--this time. His face twists into a snarl, and he thrusts his weapon defiantly forward, but it is an impotent gesture at his range. "Oi take it personal dat you been draggin yore mis'rable hoide round our 'ome, is what! Who sen' you--an whoi?" He recognizes, after a spell, that his feeble choreography will find him no purchase on the white fox's flesh and looks about for an alternative.
Amos looks for an opening, trying to attack at the fox while its focued on Stubb but careful to keep out of the range of the chain, taunting him, "Bloody fox, ain't your kind ain't no good for nutin'. Why don't'cha leave that puny weasel alone and come after me!" He grins.
Sandy rubs her neck, feeling relieved that he had let her go. She didn't waste time in promptly picking her cutlass back up, glaring at the fox - now it was personal. Quite personal. She just needed an opening... A distraction...
Several sparks fly as the chain grazes the tip of the blade, but not more than enough to simply sting at the weasel's grip on the weapon. The fox is, however, more confident with an offensive gesture, and pushes close enough toward the stoat to stay out of range and yet swing lethally at the weasel's head. With the speed of it, the fox could be looking to knock a dead weasel into the cat to off-balance him!
Serendipity, rather than Amos-like reflexes, spares the weasel. Oblivious to the impending threat to his cranium, Stubb ducks into a corner to grab a flask. He flings it, half-full, toward Sha's head but doesn't wait to see if it makes contact. He grabs a section of chewed up carpet, long detached from its parent, rolls it into a loose semblance of a log and, swinging it with his body weight, looses it too in the fox's direction.
The wildcat is quick to get out of the way of the chain, oofing as hurts himself minorly as he flees the fox's weapon, "Aye, ya almost got me that time ya ugly fox, " Another grin as the wildcat grabs a dirk before hidden and tosses it in the direction of the fox, "You'll have to do better than that!" He taunts Sha.
Sha_Rikktor swings fully around with the chain and lets the material thrown from Stubb hit him, although the flask embeds itself painfully and the fox gives an ill-tempered grunt. It also distracts him and so he dodges the dirk only at the last second, as it goes flying above his shoulder. The fox swings low to the ground now, all around, slipping forward toward the weasel.
Sandy readies herself, once she saw Stubb throw a flask at him. She gave the dirk a second to pass, before dashing in close, swinging the cutlass as hard and fast as she could to slash the fox... Wherever it could hit him. Considering she approached from the side, it might have been the side.
Stubb continues to provide projectile distractions. Next, he flings a crumpled bedroll in Sha's direction. It unfurls in mid-flight and topples end over end toward its target. Stubb snarls. "Go for 'is arm! Get 'is chain loose!"
Amos takes the opportunity afforded to him by Stubb's distraction, the weasel's words ringing in his ears he charges toward the fox in an attempt to disable this foe.
The fox is lucky; as he moves toward Stubb, the cutlass only makes a shallow pass through the back of Sha, and he flails about in all directions for a moment to clear the space about him. Now, though, he's a great deal more cautious about this squirrelmaid and his back. He moves out of the space between Sandy and Stubb, opposite of Amos, who is now moving into it... thinking for a moment, and now with a cat hurtling toward him, the fox looks above him. He swings the chain above the cat, the barb sticking into the rotting rafter, and swings /around/ Amos and kicks out at Stubb, pulling fiercely down on the weakened woodframe. It's a desperate move, and hopefully there's enough confusion caused in the moment when he's vulnerable to attack...
Sandy glanced down at her cutlass, and grimaced. Oh well, she was going to have to drop any remourse; this fox was trying to kill them. And since they pretty much saved her, in a way, she felt like it was time to... Okay, she was NOT expecting the fox's next move. She quickly stepped back from the frame, to possibly dodge it when it fell.
Stubb springs from his haunches and wraps his arms around the leg outstretched to strike him. He absorbs its impact with a pained grunt, then pivots his bulk forward to pry the leg down. He tries to wrestle the leg into a position where he can pin it between his ribs and right arm so he can free his left.
Amos doesn't seem to care, he's determined to get the bloody fox and roof caving in or not along with chain the wildcat doesn't quit his advance and hisses as he madly attacks the fox regardless. His sword held high, "Bloody fox!"
Sha_Rikktor is already out of the cat's path in a flash as he feels the sweet give from above; both his entire body weight and also a sharp tug bring with it a plank loosed from its nails (and possibly more with the effect of a support removed). The plank, trapped by the wound-up length of chain, flails dangerously past Amos and thuds against the floor, along with a tangled matrix of planking, between the cat and the entangled pair, and now the fox kicks at Stubb's face to free himself at one end...
Stubb's skinny frame is buffeted by the flailing leg, but his claws make his desperate hold all the more tenacious. "Grab tha chain, mate!" he barks at Amos. "Grab it!" The chain, tangled up with the splintered board, seems to writhe around the floor under its own serpentine volition, but, alas, it's beyond the weasel's grasp to do anything about it at the moment. Instead, he continues to wrangle with the leg, throwing his weight against it, to injure or handicap the enemy. "Dere's free of us an' one a you. Dis won' last much longer, fox!"
Amos is already moving towards the chain and diving to the ground, slightly injured, his headfur matted with blood but he focuses on the task of getting the chain weapon out of this fight.
Sandy grits her teeth, and looks at the little fight. She wasn't going to risk attacking; not with Stubb holding onto the fox. "Dammit, I can't get to him..." she grumbles to herself; nevertheless, she remains ready to attack at the first given opportunity.
As hard as Stubb's grip is on Sha, it is a fraction of the grip the fox has on his own weapon. Unwilling at any cost to have himself rendered weaponless, the fox rears his torso up and kicks his heels down at Stubb's torso, hoping to wind the weasel long enough to retrieve his only weapon in time... he hears Amos crawling over the wood and knows his timing is crucial...
Stubb gasps for air, and his grip weakens momentarily. He wobbles and stumbles to his knees and starts to go over, but then he reaches out and tries somewhat feebly to torque Sha Rikktor's leg to the side. "Little 'elp, princess?" he says to Sandy with what volume he can muster.
Amos grabs at the timber, sword hacking threateningly in one hand and the other used to hold tightly.
Sha_Rikktor takes advantage of a half-winded weasel and kicks the rest of the way out of his grasp, standing over Amos trying to reclaim the flail. He's fully confident, too confident, and allows himself for the first time in the fray a triumphant smile. "Sorry, dis be mine, cat... you kin ged your own, if'n ya savive me..." With a huge effort, the fox pulls the flail, the wood plank spinning and splintering furiously as it's freed. Almost immediately, the fox swings it straight down at the weasel, sacrificing aim for swiftness, meanwhile, his back, again, to the squirrelmaid...
Sandy grits her teeth. One shot at this - now that his back was turned, she was ending this, right then, right there. Without hesitation, she rushed in, and swung - HARD. Her aim was lethally true - right at the neck, that one little swipe was enough to take the head off, completely.
Stubb falls to his side from the kick. He is fumbling around in his vest for the dagger he stowed earlier while hurling improvised weapons at the fox, when he sees Sha Rikktor's chain swinging through the apex of its arc. He has enough time to respond, but not enough to get out of the way entirely. Even as the squirrelmaid delivers the fatal strike, the barbs along the metal chain lance into his thigh in several places, cutting a deep trench into his muscle. He howls with pain.
And Sha Rikktor, esteemed assassin of the fourth clan of Izmir, is slain. Without a word or a fuss, his clothen mask fluttering like a white flag, the fox falls to the floor, void of the energy of life, the chain slackening upon the weasel's leg but tugged a final time as the rigor of the fox's grip pulls it aside. The fox, dead.
Carn seems to be a heavy sleeper, as the sounds of fighting have just now awoken him and brought him downstairs. He's holding his claymore in both paws, and feels the dismembered head of the assassin hit his footpaw with a thump. "Och, wot's dis then?" he seems to be visibly thinking of some sort of pun or joke, "Seems like the fox lost 'is head. What 'ad him so worked up?" is the best he can come up with. He leans on his sword, maybe a little peeved he missed a fight.
Sandy grits her teeth after the execution, and drops the rather bloody cutlass, looking to Stubb. "Damn... You okay?" she asked nervously, before glancing up to Amos. "And you...?" she added; of course, when she heard what had to be the worst pun in history, she glanced over at the squirrel. "Just a little off the top. Nothing else..."
"I am here! /Ahh-heah!/ I came as soon as I heard the noise stop." Soclose cries, bustling in a few moments later from the outside door. "Who was fighting? Has someone been hurt?" The osprey carries a parcel of greenery hooked in his beak as he looks over the rubble, "What has happened to the roof? ...this is why I stay outside!"
Carn glances over at Sandy, giving her a slight grin, and then to the osprey, "Och, came as soon as tha fightin' stopped, did ye?" he likes Soclose, but can't help giving him a hard time for that statement.
Frigg comes as well, awoken by the sound of the rafters falling, and gasps. "Oh! Oh my..." She looks at Sandy's cutlass and puts two and two together, "Sandy! You... you're our heroine!!"
Stubb's distress puts him well outside the reach of puns, let alone bad ones. When Sha Rikktor fell to the ground, the barbs only dragged deeper into the blood-boltered flank. He gasps with pain, drawing whatever air he can into his lungs. He essays to feel the wound, but it is difficult to make sense of the mangle of flesh and iron with touch alone, so he tries vainly to sit up and look.
The wildcat lays on the floor, injured and bleeding and exhausted. He grunts, alive enough to hear Sandy be called a heroine to which he hmphs and rolls onto his stomach, "Bloody fox, not bad bushtail." He mumbles.
"And a bloody weasel ta go wif it." Stubb clenches his teeth.
Sandy sighs, and shakes her head. Now ignoring everything else, except giving Frigg a little smirk, she looked over. "Okay, we need to help these two! Get your asses over here and help me help them!" she ordered. Before adding, "Er, please?"
Frigg gasps at Stubb, "Oh.. oh no..." She runs past Sandy and goes to Stubb, pulling the chainwhip free of the fox's paw with some grunting, but careful not to pull the object taut in any way. "We need to singe the wound shut! Somebeast get some thread or hemp, quickly! And grab a nearby torch! You'll be fine, Stubb..." But she looks up at Sandy gravely shaking her head...
Soclose puts down his parcel and visibly ruffles up a bit as he croons, "Fighting in this space? Running into the middle of things?" Soclose grasps the top of his parcel with one talon and croons, "When I heard there were three against one--very respectable odds I might say!--I went and found something better! This is fishers footgrass," the osprey supplies giving a look over the mess, "You can wrap it on your toes or put it on your cuts, they will smell better and be better."
Carn is still leaning on his sword, being better at dealing damage than healing it. He's somewhat skeptical of the osprey's 'Fisher's footgrass', but he dosen't say so. He is glad that Sandy and Frigg are taking steps to help the injured, since he knows that if it were just him here, they'd be goners.
Frigg takes advantage of the barbs on the chain and grimaces as she is given the torch. She warns the weasel, "Now Stubb... this is going to be terribly painful, but it will stop the bleeding..." She takes a length of the chain, now free from the weasel's wound, and holds it above the torch until it's red hot. She then lays it down gingerly onto the wound, wincing and preparing for the screams...
Sandy promptly goes over to Amos, and squats down, looking over him to assess the damage...
Amos has passed out, bloodied but breathing and likely to remain so.
Stubb has exhausted his lungs' supply of screams. Instead he bites his lip and screws his face into a mask of excruciating pain as the heat of the wound is further flared by the heat of the torch.
Soclose watches wide-eyed at this procedure and the osprey shuffles back several steps, "You're ...going to burn him?" The bird shakes his head and pipes quietly, "It's going to leave a mark." Stumbling over a bit of rubble, Soclose steadies his footing and makes a mental note to never complain to the mouse about any problems whatsoever!
Carn is not keen to watch this makshift operation. He starts towards the door, "Ah'm gonna go watch out fer any otha' baddies. don't wanna get jumped agin." he opens the door and moves to stand by it, sword ready at paw, closing it roughly behind him. He's not entirly sure why he wants to stand guard for this group that he barely likes, let alone trusts. He convinces himself that by protecting them he's also protecting himself.
"A mark, sir, is better than bleeding oneself to death... we shall surely utilize your plant, sir, but before that, this needs doing." Frigg hears and smells the singeing of Stubb's leg and twists her face into a nauseated frown at it, but is pleased to see the wound not bleeding as much, and partially coagulated. It's still an open gap, though, ugly and now chain-seared... she removes the chain with some effort and carefully, knowing it might have fused the chain to some of the wound... she then goes to work with the barb and thread...
Deathwatch walks towards the longhouse.
Deathwatch steps through the door of the longhouse after spending a many long hours meditating and trying to clear his mind. His yellow eyes widen a little as he surveys the damage from the apparent fight, "Vhat in zhe..."
Soclose looks over to the doorway and the osprey straightens up, stretching a foot and shaking a bit of wood out of his talons, "Bad timbers," he exclaims, pointing over to the fallen form of a fox on the floor, the blood pooled and staining the carpet. "And another one of those bad foxes," the osprey sighs through his nostrils and mutters, "one or the other made this mess. --Or both!" The bird looks down and puts his foot down gingerly, "Watch what you step about, there is a head somewhere around all this..."
Deathwatch frowns deeply and snarls a lip as he makes his way to the fallen fox's form (yay for similes) and grabs the nape of its neck and lifts it bodily off the ground, "Und who could've let zhem in, I vonder?" He sighs, dropping the body onto the floor again, "Ah, vell. I'll deal vith zhe bodies. Zhere vill definitely be some better meats served soon."
Soclose shakes his head and says, "I'm not sure they would make good fish bait. Perhaps if the sharks are hungry enough?"
Deathwatch nods, "Zhough I vasn't referring to using zhem as bait..." he rubs his chin, "Zhere is zhe issue of who killed zhem zhat I'm curious about. Zhere might actually be some potential in zhem yet..."
