Arundal Into the woods

Derrin and Rorgan finely find the first solid clue to their parents whereabouts...from the beasts who burned their village to the ground.

Rorgan growls at the weasel, looking rather terrifying from the present angle. "Weasel, I will personally rip all the fur off yer useless body t' pay you back fer the lives you've just tampered with." Derrin seems to share the same sentiment, and his grip tightens. "You better listen t' Rorgan, vermin." He says. "I might have t' break yer snout just a bit more."

The weasel arsonist tries to pull away, whimpering as he does. The beasts look only grows more terrified as the city police come around the alley. Tavis leads a procession of several militia beasts dressed in their skivvies and fatigues. The mouse himself is dressed in a simple green tunic armed with his long sword, coming out of the shadows of the alley like a Marten the Warrior himself on a righteous crusade to rid the world of evil. And then Comes Byron. The fox pauses when he catches up, leaning over with paws on his knees panting horribly. "One second...just need to catch my breath." Able to speak again Byron returns to his full height, "Ah! I see that you caught yonder villain. Capital work mates." The weasel in their grasp seems to lean farther away from this joyful, rotund, and happy looking fox. His eyes shiver and his knees begin to shake.

Derrin gives the weasel an odd look at his reaction, but shrugs. It really isn't his problem by this point, and besides, there are more important things that he would rather worry himself with. "Here, take him," He says, launching the weasel forward by his arm none too gently. "He has a broken snout, but no injuries otherwise."

The fox catches the prisoner and shoves him rudly towards a police deputy. As he does another beast approaches, a hare in militia unifor. He salutes, "COmmander Longtail, the fire is still burning but under control. The warehouse is lost but won't spread to other buildings." Byron raises an eye to this, pointing to mouse, "Really? Your last name is Longtail? That is cool! MY last name is Longtail too! We have so much in common! Maybe we are related yeah?"

Tavis turns to the fox first. Rubbing his eyes he forces himself to remember that the Milita needs a base here, and the gutting the sherrif will not help that. "Rorgan, Derrin...I will personally drop all charges against you from the militia if you kill this fox right here and right now..." He is only mostly joking. Mostly.

For once, the twins smile at this remark. "Well...I don't know how smart that would be fer us, seein' as how we need him t' find our parents, but afterwards.." Derrin shrugs. "We'll see wot happens, eh?" Rorgan chuckles at his brother, and pats him on the shoulder. "Aye, we'll keep it mind, no doubt."

The fox whines, "Awwwwww, you would really try to kill me Tavis? But...but, we are distant cousins!" The fox chuckles again, "I'll take our friend down to the jail and interogate him. You guys, just go ahead and get some rest, ok? Maybe after some beauty sleep my cousin here will be less grumpy." The mouse flails his sword in the air shouting to the departing fox, "We are NOT Cousins!" Tavis rubs at his eyes and shakes his head. He is going to have words with Luco about this assignment when he gets back...mostly about how the village was in burning flames when he left...

___________the next morning

The next morning finds the twin otters standing at the city gates, still getting ready. For Derrin, this means rewrapping his paw wraps and tightening his paws to make sure they work. For Rorgan, this comes in the form of buckling the last of his armor on, and stringing his bow so it is ready for combat. These two had never been more excited in their lives than they are now, and it seemed like nothing could get better than it was now. "Do you really think we'll find our parents?" Asks Derrin, voicing something that had been on his mind for a good while. Rorgan hesitates, but smiles after a bit, nodding. "Aye, I think we'll find them. I think we'll find them, and they'll be alive as well, an' we'll get t' experience knowin' our parents."

A trio of beasts travel through the market place towards the gate. One is a brown furred hare, the other a small stoat, and the last the largest, heaviest fox one has ever seen. All three wear the standard Arundal deputy unifor. A red belted tunic under a brown leather vest. As the stoat passes by a cart selling apples he reaches out and takes one and begins to eat it. Not a single protest is made from the merchant or the sherrif. "Mornin Fella's" Byron declares happily, his long fluffy tail swishing back and forth behind him.

Both otters can't help but raise an eyebrow at the blatant theivery that nobeast seemed to be concerned with pointing out, but they were also smart enough to realize that if nobeast else wanted to say something about it, then it was likely a good idea that they didn't say anything until after their parents were recovered. "Good mornin' Byron," says Rorgan, being the first to speak and offer a smile. "Are we ready t' go?"

Byron chuckles, "More than ready. Everyone knows where the Bush Folk camp is...its just we don't have the beast power to actually do something about. I have twelve deputies at my disposal at the moment. So what we are going to do is go there, get in, and get out with any prisoners they have." The fox points to the south through beggars pass. "It's about, a half days march due south. Come along then, no time like the pressent." The portly fox and his crew begin to head out.

Both otters take a big breath, and they exchange glances, grinning. "Well, let's go find our parents," says Derrin happily before the two turn and begin walking off after the three beasts in the lead, their thoughts focused solely on their parents and what they would do when they finally met.

The beasts travel south along the road through the valley and into the woods. They have to leave the comforts of the paved road and enter a small game trail leading south. About an hour passes, the beasts, Gill the Hare and Avryl the stoat travel in mostly silence, not quite sure what to make of the otter yet. Byron however keeps up the chatter every so often. Dispite looking like he hasn't moved an inch from behind his desk for years he keeps them going at a relaxed by progressive pace. "So what's this story with you and your parrents?" he asks out of the blue.

Rorgan looks over at Derrin, slightly caught off guard, before responding. "Well...from wot Hneri told us, we lived in an otter village, an' our parents had us as twins. Eventually, vermin came and destroyed the place, so we were separated from our parents." He shrugs. "There's not a whole lot t' tell since we don't know a lot ourselves."

Byron nods his head, "Ah, I remember hearing about that, a Massacre they called it. That was what, seven....eight seasons ago? Before my time as sherrif, I was a part of a traveling carivan back then. A lot less 'healthy' too." He chuckles. The forrest only becomes thicker as they walk. Gill shouts as a tree limb snaps him in the face. Rubbing his sore nose he continues walking.

Derrin can't help but chuckle as he watches the hare get nailed in the face by a tree limb, but fortunately, he stiffles the most of his laughter. "Well I s'pose we'll find out the full story about the massacre when we find our parents, eh?"

Byron chuckles, "I do like myself some good stories. That weasel you brought in spun some good ones. He was certainly tribal, wanted to show his people were not afraid of us by burning down the warehouse. Unfortunetly he didn't tell us much more than that." The woods are starting to thin. There is smoke on the horizon. "and still Tavis sits there with his bleedin army. What is he waiting for? Why doesn't he just mow them down like any other horde beasts?"

Rorgan shrugs. "Mayhaps it's because he doesn't want t' lose beasts t' the tribes, or mayhaps because he just doesn't care. I've known him to be rather sadistic sometimes." At this, Derrin nods in agreement. "Aye, he was quite the mouse t' serve under."

The stoat behind him makes a discusted sound, "Ick...militia beasts. I hate having them in the same woods as me let alone the same town." Byron shakes his head as he walks, "Don't you worry, they won't be after your pelt anytime soon. They are too worried about making a base here to cause trouble. Heh, you should have seen the mouses face when I told him the weasel didn't survive interrogation." The fox suddenly holds up his paw. Crouching low he places himself near a set of bushes. Ahead of them is a small clearing. There are several cloth and wood huts set up here, rather hastily too, a few are decorated with animals hides. The clearing inst too large but large enough to accommodate at least thirty huts. There are several vermin milling about, fox's weasels, ferrets, each dressed in thick coats and trousers for the chilled spring weather.

The twins crouch along with the other three beasts cautiously, not too sure what to think about this new development. "An' can we assume these beasts are beasts that want t' kill us?" Asks Rorgan, slowly drawing his daggers as he watches the beasts walking around.

The few Bush Folk milling about seem like regular beasts, most are older looking or playful dibbuns chasing each other about. There doesn't seem to be any armed guards about the camp, not even a decent fence. The closest thing to a weapon is the burly ferret making a bow in the far end of the camp. "Probibly, maybe. I don't really want to find out. I do know that they /will/ attack me and my beasts here on sight so you however they don't know, they might be nice...off you go." The fox makes a shooing gesture to the otters, "Big hut in the center belongs to the chief. As for prisoners your guess is as good as mine as to where they keep them." The hare replies, "Yeah, we are just here to lead you to the place and bail you out if there is trouble, no WAY i am going in there."

Derrin sighs, putting his face in his paws. Of course, the one time they need everything to go the way they expected, their escorts go and drop this bomb on them out of the blue. Rorgan sheathes his daggers with an equal sigh. "Well...I s'pose we'd better be off, Derrin." The twins stand, stepping back out into a clear area free of bushes of foilage. The otters do their best to make it look like they don't mean harm, but as they've found through long experience, it's rather difficult to make it look like that when one have twin black otters walking towards oneself. "Guess it's do or die, eh?" Asks Derrin, chuckling. Rorgan nods, grinning. "It's like old times, mate."

All activity in the camp comes to a stand still as the otters approach. A normal reaction when two armed beasts appear out of the bushes. Mothers set their chores asside and call for their dibbuns to come inside. The older beasts remain where they are simply staring at the newcomers. The otters however go for the moment un-greeted and unchallenged. The 'tribal' beasts here seem skittish of the otters, they also seem a bit lean, a stark contrast from the fleshy fox waiting in the bushes.

The twins look around the camp as they enter, now suddenly feeling very awkward about this entire thing. "Er...uh...can somebeast tell us where yer chief is?" asks Rorgan, now beginning to question how smart of an idea this was. Perhaps a different method could've been used, but it's too late to go back now it seems.

A beast appears out of the nearest tent. He is a young weasel. He is wearing an otter hide vest over a brown belted tunic. The vest looks old with some holes in it and it hangs off of his limber frame, perhaps a hand me down unless the ferret lost a lot of muscle mass or used to be a head taller. The brown furred weasel also has a short saber strapped to his waist. "Who is looking for him." He says with a touch of accent.

Derrin crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at the sight of the vest. "Derrin an' Rorgan, sons of Fiagai and Galah. We come askin' about a specific raid tht was conducted around eight seasons ago on an otter village."

A stunned silence goes across the camp. Then chattering begins in a different language. THe young weasel looks stunned. After a long moment he nods his head, "I...didn't know they had children. This is...unexpected." He steps around the otters and begins heading toward the larger hut in the center of camp. It is made of burlap cloth with several older hides around the sides of various species, some vermin, some woodlander, some so odd and strange that they have never been seen in these woods for a long, long time. The weasel pauses turning back to them, "Are you coming?"

Well...it seems like that went over better than they had expected it to. Despite that, the twins figure there's really nothing else they can do aside from follow this weasel past the groups of different chattering beasts, doing their best to ignore the stares from the camp beasts.

The weasel holds open the tent flap for the otters who arrive on the tail end of a heated argument. There are two foxes in here. Both red furred vulpines one is ancient. His muzzle is almost completely white, his ears droop and his eyes are starting to have a white film about the center. He wears a heavy cloth cloak with red fringes, and sits on his haunches. Across from him, on the other side of a small fire that spews out smoke from the hole in the top of the hut is a much younger fox, perhaps the same age as rorgan and derrin if not a season older. Like the weasel he wears a vest made from the fur of a beast, this time a squirrel and much 'newer' looking. The red fox wears a brown tunic under the vest with a small hatchet at his side.

"...why won't you let us fight back grandfather!" the younger fox nearly shouts, almost pleading in his voice, "Oh? And who will you fight back with Variken? Widows and Orphans?" The younger fox Veriken growls, "They wouldn't BE widows if we just hit them back. And I have plenty of beasts in the woods, the other tribes..." Both fox's turn to the polite cough of the weasel at the entrance.

The twin otters stand behind the weasel, looking rather awkward at the moment. Instead of speaking or making a defined presence as they probably should, they stand there with their paws behind their backs, looking down at the ground as things happen.

The weasel takes the initiative. "Er...my apologies but these two are looking for Fiagai and Galah. They are their sons." Both foxes exchange glances, then Veriken merely crosses his arms as his grandfather waves a paw for them to draw closer. His duty finished the weasel leaves to give them some privacy. "You are the sons of Fiagai and Galah? Come closer so that these grizzled old eyes can look at you."

The fox nods "You're parents..." The fox pauses to cough, he begins hacking up a lung. The younger fox moves to help in some way but he waves him off, "...that was pleasant...but yes, you're parents are friends with Bush Folk." The young fox snerks, "Most anyway."

Rorgan raises an eyebrow. "An' wot might you mean by that, fox?" He asks, though his hard tone suggests that this young fox would be unwise to play games with this otter when he's this close to seeing his parents.

"Forgive Variken, he means no dissrepect..." Veriken begins to protest until his grandfather silences him with, "Not my household." The old fox turns his head lazily towards the otters, "I was unaware that they still had children. We had all thought they had perished in the Massacre." Veriken seems to grit his teeth but says nothing.

Derrin sighs. "Aye, we're startin' t' get the feelin' that most beasts thought that as well, but we're here an' plenty alive, so is there anythin' you can do t' help us find our parents?" Rorgan finally pipes up at this point. "An' possibly take us t' them in place of just tellin' us.."

The older fox turns his attention to his grandson. "Prehaps Veriken here can answer that, and also prehaps, the fire we saw in Arundal." The young fox stretches at his neck. A very sheepish, embarrassed look crosses his face before he turns away. "I...think...it may have been a 'small' group of our warriors in the woods. Both the attack on the city and...the cottages out north, including your family." The old fox croaks in laughter, "And you want to lead an army against Arundal with beasts you clearly can not control?"

Both otters are rather confused at the proceedings, but they both decide to play it safe with what they tell these beasts, especially when they are complete strangers. "Well despite wot yer beasts have done," says Rorgan. "We need yer help t' find our parents fer the moment. Once that's done, you can have yer little war an' everythin' can happen as though we never even showed up."

The older fox says sharply, "There, will, be, NO, war." Variken grits his teeth at this but lets his grandfather continue, "And I do know where your parrents are. They came here seeking refuge. Beasts resembling bush folk came to burn down their house." Variken nods, "We never found out who. But..."

"But after the kindness they have shown us, speaking for us in the city when the woodlanders ran our tribe from land to land, let us starve in the winter, take our warriors, our weapons...they spoke on our behalf. Galah helped here occasionally in the healers hut. Even helped raise some of our dibbuns." Veriken looks away from his grandfathers stare and then old fox finishes, "They did such great things for our people...even after we destroyed their village so long ago. We were honor bound to hide them elsewhere.

Everything had been going great for the twins. They had been enjoying listening to the fox and how their parents had helped the bush folk, but everything shattered the moment they heard the last of the fox's statement. "You...you were the ones that destroyed our village..." Derrin's fists tighten, and Rorgan's paw moves to the hilt of his dagger in a flash. The both of them have enraged snarls on their faces, as though they were ready to do something that they would likely regret later.

Variken moves for his own weapon but his grandfather waves him down, "No, no, they have every right to be angry." Then to Rorgan and Derrin, "Yes, I destroyed your village. I burned it to the ground, took your people captive...seperated you from your family. It was, a time of great calamity. Our people were struck by a horrible sickness. You call it the plauge, spread by ticks and flees on the blankets a merchent sold us. We...I...went mad. We had to burn our possestions, our homes, our crops...those who died couldn't even be burried. My son was among the victims and in my rage I sent our warriors to slaughter your people." Variken lets his knife finely sheeth. "My mother died shortly after when the woodlanders came to...punish our tribe. And now their city is built upon the graves of nearly half our people.

It was really quite easy for the twins to be angry with the fox, but upon hearing the explanation and the reasoning for the attack, they found it difficult to stay mad. Rorgan's paw lets go of his dagger handle, and Derrin's paws unclench. Derrin looks down, sighing. "I understand...I s'pose..." He hesitates for a moment before continuing. "...I s'pose if I had been in yer position, I might've done the same thing, so I can't blame you."

"I don't see why not...I do." The old fox says simply, he gestures to his son, "Variken. I am certain these are indeed the sons of Fiagai and Galah. Please, take them to their parents." The red furred fox thinks about this for a moment then nods, "Because we were not sure if it was the city, or us that attacked them, we sent them back to the city, into the mining town of Silver Valley. Beasts can dissapear easily there. I will take you to where they are." The red fox walks past the otters, leaving them alone with his grandfather.

Immediately out of sight Variken turns on them, meeting them eye to eye and poking Rorgan in the chest, "The only reason I am helping you two is because your parents helped raise the children of the tribe after 'our' parents were killed. They are as much my family as yours, and if you really love them, you will get them out of this place." The fox growls, "This is my grandfathers last season. Maybe it will happen today, maybe next week, maybe next month, eventually he will be claimed by his sickness...and then there will be nothing to keep me from making Arundal's streets run red with the blood of thier people." He pauses a moment to let this sink in and turns on his heel leading them away from the village.

There aren't really a whole lot of ways Rorgan could react to something such as this save for slowly nodding, but the last part disturbs him slightly, as it does Derrin. However, Rorgan gives a return growl as he continues after the fox. "Don't lecture me on family, fox. I've grown close t' many beasts over the seasons. I know wot it's like t' lose somebeast you love!" Derrin's response to this is simply to follow along, looking sadly at the ground as Rorgan's words evoke certain...memories in his mind.