Barflies and Bunnies
Angus, Trace, Malcolm (Angus spoof), Amos, Hactor, Dangeon, Doutric, Stubb
Location: The Thorn and Shadow (Collinsel)
Something is amiss. The evening patrons have gathered, a gamut of louts and travelers, but all heads are turned from the drinks and revelry at hand, collectively staring at an unfolding debacle. A scaly avalanche has laid waste to several stools, and the keep is none too pleased. The two creatures holler back and forth: the former slurs and curses as he scrambles, unsuccessfully, to stand; the latter wags an angry bar towel at the inebriated behemoth, berating him for damage inflicted upon the furniture. Angus outdid himself; a toppled slew of shot glasses languish as testament. "I ain' my fault, yew slum lord halfwit! Yer chairs'r clearly of inferior might!" he howls, hauling himself up against the edge of the counter. "
Prim and proper as always, Trace Valerya makes her way back into the tavern.. only to find the room accosted by the sound of shouting and otherwise witty mayhem. The rat pauses in the doorway at the sight, letting the door shut behind her with a quiet thump that goes almost unheard between the shouts of the lizard and the bartender. And, for a good beat of time, she just continues to stand there, staring open-mouthed as the rest of the bar seems to be doing. It's quite abruptly that Trace then pulls herself from the reverie, stepping forward rather quickly with a stern voice of, "Perhaps one ought to take their disagreement with the chairs /outside/?" This is clearly meant for Angus, her eyes shooting another stern look to the bartender as she adds, "Do you really suppose these accomodations are all-encompassing? He can barely sit in one of these with it wobbling." Wait, who's side is she on? She seems to be the peacekeeper, at the moment.
Clamoring impeded by swats of the keep's rag, Angus squints and sweeps his arm--a futile effort to block the soggy blitz. "What if I were a gravid mousemarm, huh? Coulda' been th' end of me and mah unborn!" the dragon wails. The authoritative assessment of a familiar voice momentarily pacifies the drunken heap; he sucks in his lower lip, caught in the act, and cranes to plead with Trace: "It ain't my fault! Th' damned hunk've crud jus' went and flew out from unner' me!" Helpless lizard eyes accuse tumbled furniture, but the bartender is hardly buying this inebriated yarn. A vein has popped in Snip's furrowed forehead; his breath wheezes through clenched teeth.
A finger points at the monitor, followed by a stern look from Trace as she states in that same tone, "I don't want to hear it from you, Angus. I don't honestly care /whose/ fault it is. You are certainly well mannered enough to know not to cause a commotion like this in the middle of this beast's tavern." She keeps the finger pointed at him, staring up at him almost in the way of reprimanding a child. And once she's sure he's gotten the point, she steps in between him and bartender. Now the wrath is upon the other, as she points the same finger at Snip. "And /you/! Servicing the customer by yelling at him in the middle of your tavern! Surely, the rest of this crowd can't help but wonder if their chairs are going to fall out beneath them. Shoddy workmanship is a sign of a shoddy establishment." The rat looks back and forth between the two of them with a sharp stare, before folding her arms across her chest.
Malcolm hunkers beneath the bar, having barely been spared by the chair tornado. From the stealthy sanctum of the under-bar, the child cannot see the spectacle above, but his countenance mimics Snip's more than that of his father. His little mouth is twisted in a grim frown, and an irked foot kicks at one of the fallen stools. Unable to rally a comeback, Angus palms his face and nods, a sauced portrait of remorse, as Trace takes charge of the situation. Even on his knees, the elder dragon can reach most of the immediate counter, so he sheepishly fishes for the remainder of his drink. Snip is similarly unresponsive, too irate to muster speech; he simply trembles, glaring past Trace to the rubberneckers. "What? Like you haven't seen a drunkard before!" the bartender finally shouts, and angrily scoops up an armful of glassware. He pivots, depositing the mugs in a wash bin, denigrated and cursing. May 1, 2011 at 5:12 p.m.
Trace lets out an exasperated sigh, a paw reaching out as if to grab the glass from Angus as he reaches for it again. "You've had more than enough. I think a glass of water is in order," the rat states as she looks around to make sure the crowd is done watching this.. well, probably the most interesting show they've had in a while. "If he ever decides to serve you again. Hellfire, Angus. There aren't many places to stay here for this cheap! And where's your kid in all of this?"
Amos decends the stairs, nurshing a hangover as he bleary eye'd stumbles in upon the scene, "Morning is'it?" He shakes his head, rubs his eyes with his paws, "Angus what'cha doing sitting on the floor?"
Hactor enters the bar, looking unusualy sober. He catches the last of Trace's wordsand flenches a bit, wandering where his own daughter daughter is.
It's a bar. Dangeon likes bars. And thus Dangeon is here. Though currently stuck behind a cat on the stairs. He's not moving near fast enough for the hare, who is trying to look around him and hurry him up silently right up until they're down. She's a little jittery; clearly this is her first drink of today... or since she woke up anyway.
Angus balks as Trace intercepts the mug. "Water'n cities won' do much but give ye' th' hurls," he whines, vainly grasping at the blurred image. It takes a tick for the latter bit to register, but he mildly deadpans when it does, and promptly pokes his nose beneath the bar to verify the location of his son. "He's fine, love," the dragon guarantees, tilting his head at the youngster. Malcolm stares at his father, blank, until the larger lizard is pulled away by the wildcat. "Just havin' m'self a couple a' drinks." Again the lizard is fumbling for his mug, forgetting that the rat has spirited it away. "Iffn' I kin," he stops to hiccup, "find it."
Amos stares at the lizard, shrugging and turning to see Dangeon. Being started and almost down he slips and falls back crushing, "Dangeon, why didn't'cha say anyting about being behind me!"
A stench of earth and vegetation begins to seep from under the door... Following behind it comes a huge rabbit. Doutric smelled drink so he came hopping.
Hactor cocks and eyebrow at Angus, but then shaking his head he goes to the bar and orders an ale. Sipping on the cool, amber liquid he continues to watch the drunken lizard. Untill he gags on the smell!
"Oh, you're sodding drunk," Trace states with a bit of disgust, glancing up as the others start to fill the room. "At least eat something. And get up off the floor. You're making a right mess of yourself." The drama seems to be over for the time being, and she slips into one of the chairs at the bar. "A glass of water and a large brandy," she asks of the bartender, in that same no-nonsense tone as earlier. The water is for Angus. And if he doesn't drink it, she'll dump the bloody thing over his head to sober him up. "Morning, Hactor.." is offered to the fox as he heads toward the bar. May 1, 2011 at 6:01 p.m.
Dangeon eyes the wildcat as he falls back. "... Because I was more int'rested in the bar." Well, she was. And it's so close. But now there's a fallen cat in the way. "Ya... gonna get up? I wanna go t' the bar." Oh, right, yes. "If y've bally hurt y'self... erm. We'll get ya a drink too."
Amos has already sat himself up again, glares at the hare, "Ya can bloody well get around me if ya need to, don't wait on me to stop ya!" He hmphs, moving to pull himself up and grumbling, "Ah Hactor!"
Angus exhibits a sort of sloshy obedience. Gradually, the fruitless grasping subsides, and his wobbling bulk begins to right the crimes against furniture. He totters as he stoops to collect chairs, a couple of which are beyond any hope of serving their former function. Ogling them, repentant, the dragon stands at the bar, weaving in place now and again. A hand raises to greet the familiar voices, and his tongue flits briefly at the peculiar scent of the rabbit. "Dang, ye' invite yer cousin?" he teases.
Hactor, after recovering himself, nods to Trace and raises his glass in greeting to Amos, flashing a tired smile. He can't help but chuckle at the llizard's attempt to get upright, but then sniffing the air grumbles, "Bally cottontail aught ta take a bath,"
The smell slowly supsides under the powerful scent of alchohol and spirits. The rabbit flops his gurt huge bum on the floor and begins to holler,"Anyone got somethin' natural, but strong!?". Doutric looks about at the motley crew gathered in the bar.
Dangeon grins. "Get aroun' ya? Bally long trip." She teases. And then does indeed go around the cat. She gives a wave, but is locked on for the bar and mustering her sweetest smile. Until her ears twitch at Angus and she turns to see the rabbit. "Eh. We are decidedly not related. He's a rabbit." She smirks at the rabbit's request though.
As if borne in on the bunny's malodorous breeze, a cloaked figure stealthily takes up a station at Hactor's flank. He raises a paw by way of placing an order, then rotates his head a quarter turn to glance at the fox. [Stubb]
Amos seems pleased to see Hactor, waves back at the greeting and turns and rolls his eyes as the hare passes him by, "Yeah yeah, rabbits are food and hares aren't... we got'cha..." He sniffs, "Well maybe not that one."
The nuances of rabbits versus hares escape Angus in his stupor. The dragon folds one hand around the lip of the bar for support, while the other rubs, perplexed, at the back of his head. "But he shares yer tastes," is the hazy observation that follows. "Y'know, strong an' natural--the way o' the eary ones."
"They all look the same to me," Trace remarks about the whole hare/rabbit thing with a nonchalant air, taking her brandy once it's set before her and sliding the water across the bar toward Angus. "Drink or it's going in your face, mate!" she offers, before looking back and forth between the two woodlanders now wandering about. They're almost whimsical in their strangeness!
Hactor is about to go back to his drink, when he notices the hooded figure's glance. He doesn't speek to loudly, but he asks the figure grumpily, "Eh? What ya need ta be staring at me for? "
"Like rats an' mice do to me, I'll bet." Dangeon retorts, teasingly, apparently not too stung today by the rabbit comparison. "Aye. Y' can't eat hares." Her ears twitch again at Angus and she glances at the stairs momentarily.
Still waiting for drink to appear in some heavenly miracle the rabbit sniffs. "I can durn well hear you all, and let meh tell ye. You dun smell so fair neither.". Doutric laughs loudly at his own joke.
Of course Angus fails to catch the water, but it does catch him off guard. As it contacts his hand, the lizard is pulled, unceremoniously, from his boggling. "Drin--er .. what." He squints at the intruder. "Er .. right, love. Cheers." With a serious lack of grace, he collects the water and slurps. Dangeon's treatise on the culinary values of lagomorphs is lost among his voracious guzzling, and belch that follows.
"Rats and mice!? I'll have you know that rats are a /far/ more noble creature!" Trace shoots back, with her own air of teasing. She's seen enough hordes to know that rats are generally far from noble. Not that the scrawny little things that are mice have anything special about them.
Hactor's anonymous drinking companion leans in to whisper so that only the fox can hear. "Come." With that word, the strange beast departs to seek a less crowded area of the tavern.
Hactor rases a bushy etebrow at the demand, and his neck fur bristles a bit as he surpresses a growl. He gulos down the rest of his drink, and quietly followes the stranger. He stayes at a good distance behind the hooded figure, so no one assumes he is following.
Hactor and the cloaked figure slip away to the cellar.
Amos rubs his temples, having a hard time following everyone as he moses up to a stool and plants his bum, "Yeah yeah rabbit, these are my mates though, " He eyes them, "As odd as that may seem, so ya ain't very funny!" He blinks, watching Hactor follow after some mysterious beast, "Water, drinks that stuff in a bar?" Amos wonders aloud, confused.
When the remark about various interesting odors lodges in Angus' brain, he absently inhales, tongue flicking first at his own shirt and then at the two Traces beside him. "We stink, love?" he croaks, devastated.
"She made me, mate!" Angus tells Amos, implicating the Traces with a poke of his finger.
A confused poke. It sort of hits her shoulder. Almost.
Dangeon twitches her ears and shakes her head. "Water 'n here?" She bites her lip a little. "'S a risk an' a 'alf... Er. I'll stay safe an' have m' bally ale if the cat's happy t' be buyin'?" Addressed toward the bar, though her eyes slide toward Amos as she asks after his coin. "Can' be me y' smellin', rabbit. I smell lovely." She smells of alcohol.
Trace briefly eyes Hactor as he gets up and leaves... but then again, the fox is /always/ doing weird things, so she's sort of decided not to be too concerned about it. "Well, unless you'd rather pull him out of another fight!" Trace remarks, good-naturedly as Angus' finger sort of.. glances.. off her shoulder. She looks down at it.. and then to the dragon. And then back to Amos. "He's had quite enough. And so have the chairs in this room, it seems."
Finally getting his drink Doutric swigs deeply from the bottle. "Oh good heavens! This taste wunnerful.",the rabbit falls back and continues to drink from the bottle. It's been awhile since he had a drink and he figures it's time to let lose a little and stop being such an uptight farmer bunny.
Amos shakes his head sadly at the pathetic sight that is Angus and then the sorry state of the chairs in the bar, "Rat lady's got a point, but water?!" He hmphs and shakes his head, turns to face Dangeon, "Ain't'cha got enough coin on you ya'self?" He eyes the hare sternly.
Dangeon smiles charmingly at the cat. ".. left 't upstairs." She 'admits' sheepishly.
Angus manages contrite sips of his water, in spite of Amos' ridicule. He mumbles something, but it is barely intelligible, and continues to dizzily scan the room. His eyes land on the intemperate rabbit. "Y'know, mate," he slurs, again hardly comprehensible, but clears the plaster from his throat and continues, ".. ye' should really find yerself a proper seat. Whaddja' come from? Silverlized fellows don't drink from th' floorboards." The dragon flashes Trace a sloppy but satisfied smile, poking now for her approval.
"Water.. It's the cheapest thing to sober him up fast," Trace states in that matter-of-fact tone she has perfected so well. This, all said while she sips at her brandy and eyes the two over her glass. "Nor do they drink from the bottle," Trace adds, giving a nod at Angus. Yes! That's a GOOD dragon! Look at you learning your manners!
Amos huffs, half distracted by the sight of Angus. Still shaking his head every now and then, "Ain't give ya enough to end up like that, " He thumbs to the lizard. Reluctantly pulling away his coin pouch and pulling out a nice stack. Enough for half a dozen drinks, "Here ya go, and ya pay me back at least half later."
Doutric huffs,"I thought this was where I was apposed to set! And nayn't nudden wrong with drinkin' from a bottle. As long as it's a clean bottle wid a wee bit of sumden good in eet."
Dangeon flashes a grin. "Half 't is... 'ow much later? Ya know, ne'r mind, later's fine..." She turns back to the bar to finally get herself the ale. Her eyes rove to the rabbit. "Y'r a strange one aren't ya..? I'll have t' agree with th' lesser long ears about drinking from a bottle though. 's absobloominlutely nothin' wrong wi' that."
Delighted that he has, evidently, navigated back to the rat's good graces, Angus dutifully peels himself from the bar. With a droll sway, a tipsy sashay, the dragon fumbles for a stool. He snatches the thing up with exemplary ease, headed for the rabbit. The seat is lowered, with dubious caution, to the ground beside Doutric. "There ye' go, mate!" he chimes. "All fer yew!" Snip, the bartender, is clearly unimpressed by this display of reptilian chivalry. "Don't start with the chairs again!" Snip shouts from his post.
Oh, he is becoming a right proper gentleman! Trace couldn't be prouder. The ratmaid tips back in the stool a little, sipping her brandy and grinning widely at Dangeon and Amos. "Look at that. It only takes a stern word and a glass of water to tame a dragon. I hold true to the fact that /anyone/ might be trained to be proper and civilized, if given the opportunity."
Amos eyes the sad sight, "Aye ya tamed him alright, properly whipped alright!" He shakes his head, "Poor feller!"
His efforts and ego soared for a moment, as the lizard smugly observed his handiwork. Planting hands on his hips, Angus bobs his head in a satisfied nod, but the quick motion sends his ale-addled brain aflutter. He first teeters back, then forward a pace, and then two more to the side. The pillar of courtesy is about to fall.
Doutric shouts,"I rather like the floor! It's comfortable for layin' down, and why ye see any bloomin' likin' of being civvy I dunno!"
The lizard is plunging, arms thrashing for nonexistent handholds, toward Doutric.
Trace looks to be quite proud of her creation. "He's a fine specimin of-... oh dear." That's when the lizard starts going all tippy. And Trace just visibly winces as she watches the inevitable fall in slow-motion. "... Oh /dear/.."
The rabbit is to drunk to move...
Amos watches, drawn to the wreck that is Angus.
Dangeon is watching from the bar, unsurprised and unconcerned. She has alcohol; all is well with the world.
The thunderous impact reverberates throughout the tavern: rafters rattle and every unattended mug in the joint hops an inch. Once more, all eyes are on the bombed behemoth, ogling his descent, which is drawn out by his desperate but unproductive attempt to prevent it. Slow like molasses to the eyes of paralyzed onlookers, the lizard plummets. Fortunately Angus accepts the brunt of the crash with a forearm to the floor, and ends up staring down at the almost tackled rabbit. "Er .. howdy, mate. What'd ye' say yer name was?" He is laughably unfazed by the plunge--and his uncomfortable proximity to Dautric.
Doutric looks at the dragon unfazed,"Doutric. Doutric Greenpaw."
Angus's snout splits in a sharp reptilian grin. "They call me 'Gus round here."
Doutric laughs heartily,"Rather big fall ye had there chap. Also folks call me Dout. They say I doubt every din I do."
Amos sips the drink he just recieved from the tender, shaking his head again at the lizard, "Ya okay there mate?"
Trace scrunches her features somewhat at the loud crashing sound of the lizard falling. And she shakes her head with a dramatic, "Well. At least he's learning," as she then takes a much larger sip of her brandy.
"Fall? Er." He had nearly blacked out that event. But a diligent appraisal of his position jogs his hazy memory. "Aye, right." With a loose shrug, he responds to the rabbit and cat simultaneously: "I've had worse." Angus tows his bulk from the floor, settling on his haunches to inspect a rather scraped and bruising forearm. He plucks at a splinter, flicking a wary glance to Trace, then to Snip. "At least it weren't down a bottomless pit this time, aye?" A wink is cast to Amos. "Then again, th' pillow was not quite as lovely."
Amos laughs, "Aye, though ya didn't complain too badly as I recall in being squished up against that marten, " He grins.
Hactor enters back from the basement and looks very worried. He motions for everyone to gather near him quickly.
Doutric attempts to rise from the floor.
Trace happens to catch Hactor out of the corner of her eye, after watching Angus in his antics to get back to his feet and all that other stuff he seems to be doing. "Have you found another child of yours?" Trace remarks, sliding out of her chair with a soft sigh before making her way toward the todd.
A purr rolls from the dragon's bifurcated tongue. "Aye," comes his whole-hearted agreement. "She was somethin'." He leans back on his palms, savoring his whimsical recollection of the marten. Angus fails to notice Hactor and the gesture, stuck on Scaith at the moment. "Such lovely eyes. An' oh lordy, th' way she'd--" He watches Dautric work to his feet. "Where ye' goin', pally?"
"Get over here now!!" the fox hisses at the dragon. The look he gives is so grave it could cause milk to sour,
Doutric stumbles a bit,"He said come over dere. So Im'ma gunna go ober deer.". His speech seems a bit affected...
Amos almost laughs himself off his stool, rekindled at Hactor's seriousness he shakes his head, "Yeah, she really was!" He snickers.
Trace drops down into a chair nearby, not quite cracking a smile yet at Hactor's actions, but finding them quite amusing. "Give him a bit of slack," she states gently to the todd. "He's been through a lot of.. training.. this morning."
Angus crawls on all fours, slithering into a seat at the table. ".. What what, mate?" he groans.
Hactor shakes his head and turns to Trace saying, "Listen I don't have toime ta explain everything. You and the others have ta get outa town tanight! No sooner no later." He licks his lips nervously, his eye darting around to be sure they wern't being over heard. He then continues in a still quieter tone, "Stubb has been discovered by a group, or society or soethin. Trust me when I say they are bad news. I'm going with him." He says this last bit before shakily adding, "My daughter! Please keep my daughter save!"
Amos blinks, "Daughter, the fox has a daughter?" Seemingly having missed something, he shrugs sipping from his drink, "Get out? We're having a good time!"
Angus's leathery hide pales a shade. "Yew saw Stubb?" he blurts. Hands smash against the tabletop, and the dragon cranes forward, snout invading Hactor's personal bubble. His tongue flutters in the face of the tod, as if sampling his sincerity. "Where's he at, mate? Cut the crud." The aroma of liquor still hangs heavy on his hot breath, but the lizard is certainly sobered by this portentous revelation. Lifting his chin, the monitor strains to gaze over the fox's shoulder, searching for the weasel. "T'hell wicher' daughter, where's Stubb?"
Trace goes a bit quiet at Hactor's words, looking between the others in the group and.. honestly, being new to the whole thing, not knowing the todd well enough to tell if he's being serious or not. "Wait." She frowns. "Wait, wait. How did you find this out? Where /is/ he?" Angus' words just seem to echo hers and she looks back to the dragon briefly, before nodding again with a firm stare. "It doesn't seem right to go anywhere if he's in trouble. Or, frankly, to send you off alone to get in the middle of it!"
Doutric does the smart thing and lays back down on the floor.
Hactor eye flashes dangerously and he too stands quickly, leaning forward his snout inches from the dragons. He snarls, "Keep yer mouth shut about me daughter you drunk salamander!" He then takes a deep breath and contiues still in a harsh tone, "I met em down stares. He has ta keep emself concealed. As for where he is he didn't want me ta say. But he doesn't want ya getting involved for yer son's sake. So get some sence in tha thick head o' yours and shut up! Ya moight live longer!"
A brow instinctively quirks as the peculiar rabbit reclines, but the monitor hastily returns to business. Several patrons have also turned their attention to the colorful conference; their scrutiny elicits a guttural roar from the monster, but he pipes down so that Hactor might elaborate. "I .. apologize," is is calm, if affected, response to the fox's indignation. "But ye' gotta understand, tod. Me an' Stubb, we got a pact." His fist thumps the table again. "An' with all due respect, Hactor, if he's run inta' some goons .. a lotta' good some crumpled ole' dog with half his original parts is gonna' do fer him." He hangs his head and exhales slowly. "Th' lad's heart is inna' right place, but his skull is thicker than mine sometimes."
Trace is sitting a bit more still, a bit less.. composed, in some way, as she just looks back and forth between the fox and the dragon. The rabbit's antics are practically unseen at the moment as she listens to the two of them. And then when they're both done talking, her voice sounds again.. this time with perhaps a bit colder edge than is normally seen for the otherwise perfectly mannered ratmaid. "Hactor, with all due respect, I don't think you have any say at all in this matter." The rat pushes herself to her feet, leaning back agaisnt the wall as she folds her arms across her chest. "I haven't known many of you for long, but surely, we cannot leave. Not to leave Stubb and yourself to trouble. Not when, as a group, we can certainly do more to stop this." She looks to Angus, as if asking for support. She /was/ the Commander of the Guard at one point in Ruingate, after all.
Doutric uses this time to drink everybodies drink.
Hactor conceeds to the group spitting out the word, "Fine!" He then calms himself and continues warily, "But I still think we should split up for a small toime. I tink three of us should go with Stubb, and tha rest go and reamin hiden and safe with the dragon pup." He looks around the table, hoping someone will take his side. "And moit I stress," he adds, "That toime is of the esence!"
Amos blinks, "So who goes with Stubb?" Still a little hung over.
Angus collects his wits and nods, poker-faced, at Trace. "Th' weasel's burdens be ours as well," he states, somber. The squamous volcano goes briefly dormant, sinking into his chair. It squeals in despair as his bulk descends upon it, but its protest subsides as the monitor stills. His brow knits, dark eyes roving the shadowy floor space of the tavern. They finally spy Malcolm; the frenetic little lizard, oblivious to the strife, has occupied himself with a dice and a couple of coins. "So we're splittin'?" he scoffs, head jerking back to the others. "Aye, brilliant! Let the shadows swallow us up one by one; detached from th' herd, vulnerable stock. And what're we t'do? Run until we can't run no more? All right tried that, mate. I says we stick it out, watch our backs, and help our mate tackle his ghosts headlong. All of us."
Amos grunts, "Agreed, ain't getting seperated again."
Hactor shakes his head, relizing he's lost this argument. Stubb woulnd't be happy about it, but then again, Angus /is/ a dragon! "Agreed then," grumbles the fox. "But we need to fly from here now!" May 1, 2011 at 9:01 p.m.
"I say we bring Stubb here, surround him, and meet anyone face-on who would wish to challenge him," Trace states, in that same chill tone. Her eyes drift between the others, and as with Angus, there's not a whole lot of emotion or anything descriptive in that gaze. "They're right. If we separate, we just offer up more opportunity for failure." She finally allows a frown to faintly touch her features, looking over to Malcolm playing on the floor. "Though with that being said, we cannot simply put Mal and your daughter at risk, Hactor. We'll have to be careful with this."
Doutric passes out.
Hactor sighs and sayes to Trace, "You don't seem ta get it do ye lass? We aint goin agsins a few dagger weiden rats here. We're facin a society that wants to build somethin. And ta build that somethin they need Stubb!"
A chair abruptly skids over the floor once more, toppling noisily. Angus, now on his feet, knocked the thing out of his way; now is not the time to trifle with cantankerous furniture, or barkeeps for that matter. Before Snip can get a word in edgewise, the dragon cuts him off: "We're leavin'." With that, he trots to swoop up Malcolm, boosting the child--and his treasures, lest he object--to his shoulders. "Well, they ain't gettin' him," he gravely states, having returned to the table. "Getcher' junk, cat." The lizard kicks at the leg of Amos' chair. "An' holler fer th' others."
Trace looks to Hactor for a moment in silence, as if processing all this still. And then she gives a sudden curt nod, before pushing her chair out to head upstairs to grab her own stuff. "If you try to leave without me, I'll have Angus eat you," she states, sharply, before sprinting back up the stairs to gather her things.
Hactor the fox surpresses a growl at the rat-maid, before standing himself, waiting for the coming of the tide.
"An', believe me, if th' weasel objects t'this change in plans, I'll clock 'im cold m'self," the dragon adds. He tilts, a vague smirk sullying his features, to watch Trace scamper up the steps.
The hare has passed out after downing so many drinks, Amos still seems a bit unwell due to alchol consumption but quickly tries to bring himself to the realization of the seriousness of the situation. He snorts and growls, "That's right, ain't no one splitting us up!" Seemingly to acknowledge the lizard, he calls after him, "One moment!" He rushes up the stairs, can be heard rushing into a room and apologizing as a female screams, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, wrong room!" He repears soon with both his and Dangeon's stuff. Gathers up the sleeping doe and huffs, "Ready ta move out!"
