An Abbey of Peace
This is apart of 'The Great Ones', a Camp Willow plot. Read the [[[The_Great_Ones_Aren%27t_Here|introduction]]] and [[[The_Great_Ones%2C_Part_One%3A_Under_Siege|Part One]]].
Setting:
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Only the smallest fractures suggest a earth tremor almost brought Redwall Abbey down to its very feet. But today it still stands, with the sounds of good will and hard work piping over the walls While there are racks and rivulets that show the damage that happened quite some time ago, The abbey beasts are at hard as work ever. As snow has given way to spring, there is so much do do now-- won't you come in?
Characters:
Aden, an Abbeybeast
Kolbjorn, Viking chief
Rincair, a Viking
Rorgan, a Camp Willow guard
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<---->An Abbey of Peace<---->
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It is strange, Aden thinks, to consider this - or any - evening to be 'beautiful', given the circumstances. The dead-eyed refugees drifting, listlessly, through the halls, the captives being held at Camp Willow, the dead, the wounded, the distraught... Do they still find the sunset to be breathtaking? Because she does. Leaning against the wall, the squirrel can't help but appreciate the view as the sun lights the sky on fire, kissing the tops of the trees and bathing the red stone walls of the Abbey in a warm, orange glow. How can the world feel pain when it has so much beauty to offer? She squints over Mossflower, adjusting her grip on the sword at her hip; it feels strange to hold it in the Abbey, but its weight is a comfort to her. It reminds her of what lurks beyond her sight, and that she is not helpless against it.
"Loose an arrow," Kolbjorn says from his cover in the trees, watching the guards patrolling this way and that. "Over the wall." "And if it hits anybeast?" the archer coming up beside him asks. Kolbjorn shrugs. "We haven't negotiated yet, have we?" The archer nods and steps out of the trees, pulling back the string and firing off a single arrow, over the great red walls, and where it falls is none of their business from there. Getting here was easy, Kolbjorn thinks. It's getting out of here with what he wants that will be difficult.
The large rustling shadow in the bushes next to Kolbjorn speaks. "These walls are the strongest we've seen. Those inside must either be strong or descended from some who were," Rincair muses, his great paw resting on the shaft of a spear. "It would take time to breach them. Perhaps the fear of Storm Father has gone ahead of us, and they will listen to words." A hard face sets itself against the gates, staring resolutely towards the entry, waiting to see what reaction the arrow will bring.
Walking away from the pond where he'd been conversing with someone he could only consider an aquantance at the moment, Rorgan found himself ambling along the open grass on the inside of the abbey walls. On a whim, his icy eyes roamed upwards, and he squinted slightly as he caught sight of...what was that? The shape quickly grew a tad bigger and a lot closer, and it didn't take much longer for the otter's eyes to widen. Instinctively, he jumped sideways into a roll, and though the arrow didn't land where he'd been standing, it was pretty close. For a few moments, he stared at the arrow, then back up at the walls before running to the arrow to tug it out of the ground and sprint off towards the stairs leading to the walltop. Somebeast up there had to have seen the arrow too!
The silver squirrelmaid pauses on the walltop, one foot still poised in midair, and she squints into the trees. "Wha-" And then the arrow zips over head, pushing her to duck out of instinct. Growling, she bends low and rushes along the ramparts, already shouting. "Sound the alarm!" For Pete's sake, where is Mag when she needs him? An otter is running towards her, and she skids to a halt. "Get down! Is there anything tied to that? No one just... /shoots an arrow/ for no reason!" The Abbey is already erupting into action, guards scurrying back and forth. The bell tolls, renting the silent peace of the night in two.
"That had to have gotten their attention," Kolbjorn mutters. "Now we make our entrance." He waves the band forward. Himself, Rincair, and a dozen vermin, true Northmen all, step onto the path and begin to walk down the path towards the Abbey, bearing a raven emblem and a white flag beneath that. They are, of course, fully dressed in the manner of their people. Though their flag says negotiation, their weapons and armor speak of a constant readiness for war.
Next to Kol, Rincair tramps along towards the gate, staying in line with his brothers, his shield grasped firmly in his other paw while he totes the spear in his dominant. "No arrows back," he observes aloud, giving a soft snort and shaking his head, eyes smoldering at the Abbey. "Perhaps their walls have made them soft instead of strong."
Rorgan had already checked the arrow, and it had no message on it, which really made no sense to the otter, but he had to get up to the walltop. "It's got nothing on it!" He called back to the squirrel. "Someone did just shoot and arrow for no reason!" As he made his way up to the walltop, he caught sight of the group of vermin walking towards the gate, and his expression contorted into an angry growl. His grip on the arrow tightened until the wooden shaft splintered and snap. Tossing the arrow off the walltop, he unsheathed his bow, drawing his arrow and laying it on the string, ready to fire, but not bringing the bow to full draw.
Aden peers over the wall top, eyes narrowing. "Don't /trust/ them." She growls to the guards nearby; namely, Rorgan. "Archers! Open -" But she stops. That is not the Abbey way, and she does not want to bear the peaceful Order's scorn for having the archers open fire on beasts waving a white flag... But she isn't a sister, and with her husband scouting... "Fire at their feet." She straightens, and glares over the wall top. "THAT'S CLOSE ENOUGH, SCUM!" The squirrel plants her paws against the stones, her knuckles going white with the pressure. These monsters have some nerve. "One more step and we poke you full of so many holes you'll whistle your own personal symphony every time the wind blows."
"I think the same," Kolbjorn replies to Rincair. He peers up at the squirrel who shouts at him, and blinks. Squirrels were a favorite target among martens - fast and clever, but not particularly strong. A bracing challenge on the hunt. "What do you think we have thought you would do since we invaded the otter camp?" he calls back. "Yet here you are, still waiting, and we have come to you. To talk, as it were. Unless you are so certain that a dozen beasts can take your... what do they call it?" he asks over his shoulder. "Abbey." "Abbey! Allow us passage, and let us share mead and break bread, and discuss the new order of the world."
Rincair, for his part, stands there looking foreboding. The chief has the talking under control for the moment, and if the Abbeydwellers need convincing, there's bound to be a head he's squirreled away nearby to intimidate them.
Rorgan found himself pulling his bowstring back and loosing an arrow along with several other archers, and he quickly reloaded, pulling the string back. At the request, he began growling a tad louder at the request from the vermin. "You're not stepping one dirty worthless footpaw in this abbey vermin!" He called back, voice filled with malice. It was the first time he'd gotten the chance to see the faces of the monsters that had taken Camp Willow, and he found rage building in him more and more quickly by the second.
"Fat chance, ugly." She replies, under her breath. There is a fury about Aden, knitting her brow and sharpening the edge of her voice. More audibly, she announces: "Unless you are here to release the beasts you have captured, then we have nothing to say to you." She glances sidelong at Rorgan, and a paw goes to his shoulder. Steady. "Our gates are not open to you. State your business or leave." She glares at the gathering at their doorstep, malice lingering on Rincair - why is he so /big/?
"Those we have taken were taken rightfully in battle - battle that the otters lost. You need not concern yourselves with them." Kolbjorn spreads his paws amicably. "But we have no quarrel with you, Abbey dwellers. And we will have none for quite some time, if you are agreeable to what we have come to negotiate. There need be no bloodshed between our creatures. Let us talk, instead of shout. Or are at the stories of your legendary hospitality a ruse?"
Rorgan's paw drew further back, stretching the string a tad further. He had a perfect aim at Kolbjorn, but he knew he couldn't fire. Still, it didn't hurt to fantasize. "If you won't let the captives go, then none of us have anything to say to you disgusting creatures!" He shouted. Even with Aden's paw on his shoulder, he couldn't help being as angry as he was. "This abbey offers hospitality to peaceloving creatures, not you, so get your worthless tails out of here!" Perhaps he'd regret being so angry and outspoken later, but it wasn't the time for second thinking.
Rincair grunts his agreement, standing there looking menacing. It seems to be his chief occupation, and he is /good/ at the job. The big marten glances over at Kol as the otter shouts his insults and reasons, nodding a helmeted head questioningly towards the walls.
Aden is shaking. The /nerve/! Her upper lip curls in a snarl, and her grip tightens around the hilt of that sword. As Rorgan speaks, she drops her paw from his shoulder and nods. That's... Pretty much got it covered. "Like the lad said." She growls. "We are a place of peace, we don't negotiate with raiders and slavers, like yourselves. So, unless you're going to be releasing your prisoners and ceasing your occupation of Camp Willow, then we have nothing more to discuss." She turns, stepping away from the wall and towards the stairs.
Kolbjorn shakes his head at Rincair. The anger, the blustering, they have heard it a hundred times in a hundred languages. Yet always the smart ones let them in, and bought and talked their way out of trouble. The not so smart ones... well, they do not talk anymore. "Perhaps you will be more amenable to speaking to one of your supposed 'creatures of peace,' then." He waves his paw, and from the center of the group, a young ottermaid, her paws bound at the wrist, is dragged forward. It is Ayita, and though she is alive and not as dirty or beaten as one might expect, she hardly looks happy. "Tell them," Kolbjorn says. "Tell them that 'peace' is only possible through us." He nods to Rincair. He has extra heads, right? Just in case.
Rincair waits expectantly for Ayita to begin talking, the tip of a knife niggling at her back for encouragement. It's all very discrete, of course, nothing they'd see from the walls. If she won't talk, he does have a head in reserve, 'just in case', to do a different sort of speaking.
Rorgan's eyes widened as Ayita was brought out, and his heart leapt up into his throat. That...was the otter he'd first met when he'd arrived at Camp Willow. Ayita...if he remembered correctly. The sight wasn't doing too much for the rage in his chest. It was consuming him, filling him with bloodlust like it had in his slightly younger days a few years ago. He didn't know what to say. Of course it was stupid to tell them to let Ayita go, but he had no idea what he could respond to that with, which only made him a tad angrier. He'd been in situations similar to this before, but somehow it felt different, like more than the obvious was at stake, though the otter couldn't figure out what it was.
The shift in the tension doesn't go unnoticed, and Aden freezes on the steps, even before the ottermaid speaks. The problem, though, with the otter is that she isn't the compliant type, despite the knife nagging at her back. "Crummy houseguests." She grunts, looking up with a broken gaze. She recognizes the guard, but doesn't show it - that would only endanger him further. Atop the wall, Aden turns and stomps back towards Rorgan. "Come with me." She taps his arm, and motions for several other beasts standing guard atop the wall to do the same. "You are not permitted in the Abbey. Stand away from the gates." She calls down. She's coming out.
Kolbjorn sighs. "And they call us pushy," he says to Rincair. "Are not their walls stained red, their champion wielder of a blade that has taken ten thousand lives? I thought we might come to an understanding easier than this." He shakes his head, and steps up close behind Ayita. "Now no trouble this time," he whispers to her. "As much as I like you making trouble... You know what we are here for. Let them know, and let that be the end of it."
It seems the head won't be needed after all. A protective, reminding paw falls on Ayita's shoulder as Rincair stands steadily beside her, his spear waiting for him back among the little crew.
Quickly, Rorgan let the string go slack, and he quickly followed Aden along with several other guards, all swordsbeasts. Moments later, the gate opened, giving enough of a gap for the guard group to get through and closing as they made it through. The sight of the captive otter close up only reaffirmed Rorgan's conclusion. He'd hoped that Ayita hadn't been captured when he'd heard about the attack, but it seemed luck didn't want to work with him today. His bow paw tightened on his bow, and his lips curled back, baring his plenty menacing teeth at them. It was readily obvious that he wasn't a Redwall beast by this point, especially given his clothing.
Those gates are large, and inch open enough to allow Aden, Rorgan, and the other guards to step through. They shut behind them. Ladylike as ever, Ayita spits on the ground at Kolbjorn's feet. She can feel the steel of the dagger against her spine - there is a pleading look shot towards the small party that exits the gates. As if reciting from a script, she growls: "If Redwall wishes to see mercy and peace, then they would be wise t'negotiate." She glares at Kolbjorn, her rudder twitching in agitation behind her. "'Appy?" To Rorgan, she shakes her head - a small gesture. Why is Aden doing this? Why is she here? The squirrelmaid finds herself in over her head, but steadies herself. "What do you want in exchange for captives?"
"Very," Kolbjorn whispers back to Ayita, making sure his breath touches her neck. Then, to the Redwallers, "Do you happen to have the head of a great warrior? My huscarl is fond of them," he says, jerking his head to Rincair. "Otherwise, there will be no talk of exchanging captives. They are not battle captives, they are thralls taken as the spoils of war, this one included." He lays a paw on Ayita's shoulder, heavy and possessive. "Now, then." He tilts his head at Aden. "You do not send your leaders to negotiate - this is an ill omen. But regardless. We wish for peace, as we consolidate our new holdings. For this to exist between us, and for the lives of these who you hold so dear..." He gently lets his finger brush Ayita's cheek. "We require tribute. We would much rather it be in gold and food than more lives."
"But we will take lives if there is no gold and food to offer," Rincair puts in menacingly, fixing his dark gaze on Rorgan. That one seems a little too on edge for his liking. "I've an appetite for both."
On edge would likely be the right words to descibe Rorgan. He was a passionate otter, but more importantly, it became intensely personal to him if anyone he knew was threatened, as was the case here. "Careful," He said, his disgusted tone piercing the air. "Try not to sound to empathetic about all the lives you've taken already." Just the sight of Kolbjorn's finger brushing against Ayita's cheek made his heart beat that much faster. It seemed strange to him that he hadn't done much of anything, yet his heart was pumping as though he'd run a couple miles.
"/Tribute/?!" Aden bristles, her chest expanding as she sucks in a breath, the rage building, dwarfed only by Rorgan's. "We will /negotiate/ for captives." Her voice is low, threatening - it is not a look that she pulls off with ease, though. She was a circus performer - this new gig is proving a difficult role to fill. "Those beasts are not /yours/. Camp Willow is not /yours/. You come upon a place of peace and think you are superior because you know destruction. Destruction is easy. Brutish." The silver squirrel is more aware than ever of the weight of her daggers at her belt, but she is concerned for the ottermaid. "Ha-" She is interrupted by a surge of movement as Ayita turns and snaps at the marten's paw, where it lingers in an unsavory fashion at her cheek. It was only a matter of time before "negotiations" went South.
"Camp Willow only /exists/ because we did not burn down what remains of its houses and slaughter what remains of its people," Kolbjorn snaps. "Do you know no relief that we have not turned our attention upon y-" His eyes turn to Ayita just as she snaps at him, and instead of a paw, she gets his forearm, covered by his thick sleeves, but an otter's teeth are sharp. "You foolish /whelp!/" he roars, and moves to throw her to the ground as the Northmen pull up their shields to surround him, seemingly already convinced that this is the end of talking.
When Kol moves to toss the ottermaid down, Rincair pulls his shield immediately into the ready position, a big fist closing around the haft of his axe and tugging it up from his belt to growl menacingly, weapon in paw, at the Redwallers as he closes the most forward edged of the circle.
Seeing as how everyone else was getting ready, Rorgan had already drawn his bow back to full draw before most of the vermin had a chance to get settled in their new positions, though comparitively, he hadn't had far to move his arms in the first place. "You hurt her and I swear I'll end your miserable life!" He shouted, more hate and anger in his voice than even he himself had ever heard from his own voice. "None of you are worth this abbey's time. It's survived armies stronger than whatever you've got, and it can stand against you too."
The otter's grip does not release immediately, and there is a gurgled growl as she sinks her teeth as deep as the sleeves allow, shaking her head like a dog - all the while with that strangled snarl. But she is not a strong beast, and is easily thrown to the ground, taking whatever flesh of fabric in which her canines found purchase. Aden, unlike the otter, knows a lost cause when she sees it. "Get back in the Abbey!" She is already backing away, her sword wrenched free of its sheath, extended forward in one paw, while a dagger is twirled in the other. The gates creak open enough for re-entrance, Abbey guards waving for them, frantically. No one wants this to come to blows, right now. "Inside." Aden growls, eyes flicking towards Rorgan. "GO." Ayita scrambles at the ground, bound paws unable to gain purchase. She does the only, useless thing that she can: she launches herself, head first, at Rincair's behind - teeth bared - as he advances, bringing new meaning to the phrase 'headbutt'. The ottermaid finds herself echoing Aden as Rorgan seems to make a stand. "GO!" She cries out, full of desperation and dread, worried by the other otter's tone.
Ayita won't get far if Kolbjorn has anything to say about it. As she struggles to stand again, he lashes out with his paw to wrap around her throat, and then slam her back to the ground, /hard./ "You will pay for that later," he snarls, and points to the fleeing Redwallers. "Make one of them /bleed,/" he says to Rincair, to his archers, anyone ready to bring the pain. "Keep your shields up. We have wasted our time."
Without hesitation at all, Rorgan took up aim at Kolbjorn, aiming for the leg. If he couldn't kill any of them today, then he'd make sure they remembered him and what happened when they messed with Camp Willow otters. In the same second, his paw released the arrow with a familiar twang, and he turned and sprinted off towards the gates, though he did it reluctantly, and perhaps that reluctance was why he didn't move as fast as he normally could.
Whatever the reason, Rincair is more than happy to seize upon the opportunity to draw some blood. His mighty arm rockets forward, his wrist snapping forward with familiar ease, launching the axe held in his paw spiraling through the air toward Rorgan's back, its hefty iron blade spinning eagerly towards its target; but Ayita's headbutt of her head to his butt throws off his aim a tad. "Syna pheim gjafir minar!" he roars, ripping his sword from its sheath to replace the axe. At his command, there is a movement in the trees, shadowy figures pulling up on a dozen sacks, revealing a row of severed otter heads on the tips of raider spears, just where the Redwallers will be able to admire them from the walls. The marten chuckles dryly as he sinks back into line, their feet carrying them cautiously away.
"IN THE ABBEY, NOW." Aden rears an arm back and let's that dagger loose, aiming low, for knees and shins beneath those shields. She steps aside, ushering guards through the gate. The disturbance isn't going to go unnoticed with the tightened security - archers still on the walls aren't holding back their attacks, either. Ayita struggles, helplessly, against the paw that clutches at her throat, winded further as she is slammed against the dirt. Her eyes roll with manic energy, trying to keep an eye on the fight - she see's the axe spinning towards Rorgan, and is unable to call out. Run, you fool! Aden does, though, letting out a cry as she and another guard rush forward to drag the otter back towards the safety of the gates, wherever he may fall... And then she sees their gift, and there is a primal scream from the squirrel, even as she and the other guards retreat back behind the safety of the gate. Ayita, still struggling for breath, loses her grip on consciousness, feet kicking out with decreasing vigor.
Kolbjorn doesn't flinch as Rorgan's arrow impacts on the shield wall, instead glaring down at Ayita with a ferocity even she hasn't seen before. "This will end in blood," he murmurs, "thanks to your teeth." He heaves her up and drags her away, behind the cover of his fellows. "I saw it in their eyes," he says to Rincair, even as they withdraw under fire, and one of them cries out, supported by the others in the shield line as he falters with an arrow in his shoulder. "This Abbey of peace will give us war." He laughs aloud. "Perhaps they will appreciate our gift, and we will finally see some spine in these pagans."
As fast, or as slow, as Rorgan ran, it wasn't enough. The spinning axe caught him in the back, right of the spine. Still, it was enough to stagger the otter, and before he could get much further, he fell and hit the ground, though he kept a hold on his bow. Pain lanced through his back as guards rushed to drag him into the abbey, and the laugh from Kolbjorn was still audible as the gates closed, locking the Redwall group inside once again.
And so it comes to war…
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