A nice afternoon...and talk of unpleasant things.

It's a nice fair weathered sort of afternoon. Only a few clouds hanging lazily about in the sky; and the temperature isn't too bad either. Just off to the side of the road Mercer has propped himself against a tree, a freshly plucked apple in one paw, a long stemmed pipe in the other.

Roac bobs down the road, on his daily walk

Mercer doesn't notice the bird at first since he is on the squirrel's blind side. When he does look in the raven's direction, however, his visible eyebrow narrows. He doesn't call out a greeting to the bird, but just watches him.

The bird stops becouse he hears Mercer, and he looks at him. "Hello there, who are you?"

"Well, you're certainly forthcoming aren't you, blackbird?" Mercer takes a long draw from his pipe, and then blows the smoke in the raven's direction. "And just who might you be, ta ask a beast for his name, eh?"

Roac asks, "I am Roac, and again I ask, who are you?"

Mercer doesn't answer at first, instead taking his time in finishing off the last bite of his apple. He tosses the core into the middle of the road, wipes his mouth with back of a paw, and finally seems to settle on his answer. "I'm the one they call The Red in some parts, in these parts...well they don't know my name, yet."

Roac says, "hm...the Red? well, the Red, ware do they know you?"

Mercer chuckles, but it isn't the mirthful sort of chuckle. "In the places where I've left stinkin' vermin swinging from the treetops, that's where."

Roac says, "How...morbid"

Mercer grins slightly, "How just, should be the proper term."

Roac says, "hm, yes that would be right for some vermin, but most here are good beasts?"

Mercer's expression grows suddenly darker. "Good beasts? Good beasts!?" He spits suddenly on the ground, as if the very though leaves an unpleasant flavor in his mouth. "There's no such thing as a good vermin, bird."

Roac says, "hm, I think you are wrong, but mabby the only vermin you have met are bad beasts..."

Keno approaches from the north, moving casually along the edge of the road. His brow furrows and he pauses as he spots and hears beasts in the distance. The shrew ducks off by a nearby bush.

"All vermin are evil; it's in their blood, bird." Mercer takes another long draw from his pipe. "No such thing as a 'good' vermin."

Roac says, "hm, if you met some of the beasts at Redwall, you might find your self wrong"

Keno determines the beasts ahead are woodlanders and steps back out onto the road. The shrew raises a paw hailing the strange conversing pair. "Oy there, mates, g'day to ye!" He shouts as he approaches.

Roac turns to Keno "hello thare who are you?"

Keno eyes the raven cautiously. "Keno's m'name...Ye best be warned, a lone otter lass was attacked and wounded on this road yesterday in broad daylight by a rogue weasel."

"Just because those monks choose to let vermin amongst themselves doesn't make them any better. If you believe that then-." Mercer finds himself cut off by the arrival of the shrew. On instinct his paw reaches back towards his bow, but then he gets a good look at the newcomer, and his guard drops. "See what I mean, bird?"

The shrew nods gravely. "Aye, I've been lookin' for him ever since but there's been no signs. I pray he's moved on."

Roac says, "hm, well...I did say the ones in the Abbey are good"

Mercer looks up and down the road, as if expecting to see the weasel waltzing towards them. "Well he won't be hard to find, weasels never are." His attention goes back to the bird, "If the abbey wants to believe that then that's their business. I won't be the one who wakes up to find my throat slit."

Keno quirks his brow at the squirrel. "Throat slit? I've been stayin' at the Abbey 'n I got no worries o' such 'n end comin' to me since I've been there, I can assure ye of that mister squirrel."

Roac asks, "hm, yes and you have met Flicktail then?"

"Give it time, shrew. But, what the abbey does is none of my business." Mercer takes another couple draws from his pipe before letting the smoke go in one, long stream. "Flicktail? Who is this you speak of?"

Keno shakes his head. "Can't say I have. Just arrived a few days ago m'self and many beasts call the Abbey home." The shrew watches the squirrel strangely.

Roac says, "He is the abbey champ, he is a 'otterfox' as he calls himself..."

Keno smiles. "Otterfox, eh? Sounds bloody terrifyin' if ye ask me? But, Otterfox, 'r not I'm bloody well sure the Abbey's Champion must be an awfully busy beast. I'm sure I'll meet him one day."

By the look on Mercer's face, this tid-bit of information has the squirrel at a loss. "Otter...fox?" He asks, his tone disbelieving.

Keno shrugs at the squirrel. "I've heard stranger tales in the South where I'm from."

Roac says, "when he wa young, he was taking in by otters"

Keno chuckles. "Otters be strange beasts, 'n otterfox is as strange as it gets." The young shrew lazily takes a seat and produces a walnut from his pocket, popping it in his mouth.

"I've heard my fair share of tales as well, shrew, but an 'otterfox' is something I've yet to encounter."

Mercer's face is still somewhat skeptical, that is up until the raven explains more about the Otterfox. "So, you mean to say that the great defender of Redwall Abbey is a fox? This is...interesting." The squirrel raps the bottom of his pipe against his knuckle a few times, emptying the bowl onto the ground.

Roac says, "And probably the nicest beast I know"

Keno frowns. "This is strange; indeed, I came here to escape bloody vermin."

Mercer snorts. "Vermin are everywhere, friend. You can't escape them, only get rid of them."

Keno munches slowly on his walnut. "Aye, but the Abbey? Strange times we live in, eh?"

Roac says, "hm...no stranger than past times..."

Keno offers the raven a dry grin. "Aye, tho' I never was partial to history lessons."

"In past times vermin died upon that abbey's walls, if the stories are true." Mercer casts a somewhat dark eye in the general direction of Redwall. "And now there's a bloody fox holding that sword of theirs? No wonder otters are being attacked on the road."

Keno nods at the squirrel. "Aye, ‘tis a shame, 'n there's naught much the Abbeybeasts can do."

Roac says, "hm, well...Flicktail is a good beast"

Keno offers the raven a grave look. "Let’s pray he is, eh?"

Mercer shakes his head slowly, "I would disagree with that, shrew." His attention turns back to the bird. "And how do you know this, blackbird? Foxes are the slyest and cleverest vermin, no doubt he has you all fooled while he steals from behind your backs."

Roac says, "hm, he's been there most of his life"

Keno finishes his walnut and stands. The shrew looks anxious. "Eh, well, s'pose I should get back to the Abbey. I s'pose this 'otterfox' is attendin' to Abbey business 'cause I've seen no sign o' him."

Roac says, "well, you two believe what you want to about him, but he's a good beast"

"Clearly he's not been attending to matters around here, if there's ottermaids being attacked." Mercer turns his gaze down the road. "Where was she attacked anyway?"

Roac says, "the bridge north of here"

Keno looks at the bird. "Aye, so ye heard 'bout it too, eh? I found the poor lass, barely alive 'n I helped her back to the Abbey."

Keno room-pages, "I left her in the great hall, flicktail must've shown up afterwards".

"North, eh? How long ago was this?" Mercer asks.

Keno sticks his paws in his pockets. "Just yesterday, mister squirrel. Wasn't much I could do...I'm no healer 'n I got no weapons."

Roac says, "well, it was nice to talk to you two" and he flys up into the sky

Mercer's single eye is fixed on the shrew. "Didn't happen to see where he got off to, did ya?" If it was only yesterday then there's a chance the trail is still fresh."

Keno shakes his head. "No he was gone by the time I got there, me only real concern was fer the otter lass."

Mercer nods slowly. "May still be worth a look. With any luck he'd still be in the area, waiting to prey upon some beast."

Keno frowns. "I bloody well hope not. If he's gotta lick a sense he's long gone by now."

"Except most vermin don't have even a lick of sense, shrew." Mercer's scar twitches as the slightest of grim smirks crosses his face.

Keno looks at the squirrel strangely. "Well I hope ye find the foul beast, like I said, I've seen no signs o' him, 'n even if I did I doubt I could handle the vermin unarmed." The hops off to the edge of the road and begins moving back northward toward the Abbey. "Take care, mister squirrel!" He shouts as he departs.

"Fine then, leave the hunting to me." Mercer watches the shrew depart, but raises a paw in fair well. "Until we meet again, shew."