From the Trees

Stubb, Amos, Dangeon, Hookclaw, Trace, Scaith, Mayeul, Hactor, Darkmane

Location: Northern Path, en route to the Quarry

A fallen log marks the sharp boundary of the group's encampment and serves simultaneously as a buffer against the night's sporadic gusts. Stubb sits propped against the scaley trunk, his legs spread limply before him on soil still faintly warm from the season's first sunny day. His paws hold his interest, outstretched between him and the crackling campfire, as he turns them over, first one way, then back, contemplating.

Amos sits near the sleeping hare, sitting across from Stubb and drinking from her flask since liberated from the lizard. Finishing it he moves to gently place it in the hares paws while she's still sleeps, hoping not to wake her and grinning at Stubb.

"That feels empty." Grumbles the 'sleeping' hare while she lays there on the ground, enjoying the fire's warmth. One eye cracks open to follow the cat's retreating paw.

Hookclaw flys threw the sky and lands on the limb of a nearby tree, he glaces down at the campout and turns his head for a better look. He stays quiet and in the tree and just watches them for the time being.

Trace sits across from the fire, seemingly lost in her own thoughts as she ties her long hair into a braid that trails down over her shoulder. The rat hums softly to herself as she goes about her work, eyes tracing back and forth between the others as she watches the exchange with the flask. "I don't imagine he intends to refill it, either," she murmurs aloud, in response to Dangeon's comment. Oh. It seems she /is/ paying attention.

Stubb looks up at Amos and lets his paws fall to his side. "What are you smoilin' abou', ca'? Proud a yourse'f for nabbin' a gimpy gil's grog?"

Caught and turning to eye the new arrivals and cursing at Stubb, the cat turns back to look at the hare, "Was the lizard, I was just putting it back I swear, " He grins, "Morning miss sunshine."

Hookclaw perns one of his wings and starts to close his eyes, though he does remain alert to any sounds around him.

Dangeon adds a one eyed glare to her features temporarily. "I suspect not." She confirms with the rat before continuing skeptically. "Sure. If 't were the lizard, where's he now and how come ya had it, BossCat? ... And that's a point, when do I get m' danger money for while I w's incaparterat'd?"

Trace snickers, as she finishes with her braid and then just settles back near the fire, her arms folded around her knees. "Might be needing to sleep with those herbs a little closer," she remarks, almost in a chiding tone. And as if thinking about it, Trace tips her head toward Stubb, raising a brow before grabbing for her bag to make sure all the contents are still present!

If he's aware of the implied accusation, Stubb's features don't reflect it. He waves his paw, dismissive of Amos' snarled obscenities as just another part of his strange personality. His claw hooks into the soil. "Shou'd reach tha quarry boi tomorra, ma'es." He pauses. "Don' sappose dere's much a' tha quarry ta hold yore int'rests, so if you par' ways wif us... Well, oi woul'n' blame ya. After all tha harm we been frew, an no' a penny richa for i'." His voice is soft, strangely contemplative.

Dangeon frowns slightly. "'M richer by 'xactly one horse, Stubbly." She doesn't seem like she's contemplating leaving the group at all. Even seems surprised to hear it. "Harm or not, we've come close t' riches, right? 'Sides, the harm done an' we're still 'round. Better together 'an 'part an' all that, wot?" Both eyes are open now as she sits up.

Amos mutters, "It was the lizard, I's just had a bit but he drunk most of it!" He blinks, turning to stare at the weasel, "Leave? Ain't about to leave you and that lizard alone, ya two might get into trouble." He grins. He nods to the rat, "What about you miss?"

Trace really has nothing better to do. And this is the most interaction she's had in the seasons since Ruingate's downfall. The rat makes sure all of her herbs are still intact, and then pulls a small metal container out of her pack, going to work at crumbling a few herbs into it and making a neat concotion of tea to steep over the fire. "I can't really say I have any major plans. I'll wander along with you folks as long as you'll have the company." And as long as they can sustain her boredom.

Stubb looks askance at the couth young rat. "Shore you wanna be taggin' along wif da loike a us?" He gestures to his bloodied middle. "Seems we invoi'e abuse. Amos dere 'ad 'is leg skewered. The 'are been kidnapped." He shakes his head. "Seems bad stars is on us all tha toime. Soides," he adds with what may be a wink, "' can' imagine a fancy lady loike yorese'f 'd foind our comp'ny very stimula'in'."

"Oh aye. Ya still owe me the recomp's pay though. I'd a' got out of there 'ventually if'n y'd not shown up." Dangeon addresses the cat. She totally wasn't in danger of being hanged when they found her, honest! At least, she seems to have conveniently forgotten it. She then inclines her ears rat and weasel-wards.

Amos grunts, "I got better, was just a scratch!" Addressing the weasel and then looking over to Trace, "Yeah yeah, sure you would have, " He rolls his eyes.

Hookclaw opens his eyes he had tried to sleep and all the talking has woke him up, he looks down at the beasts on the pathway again and puffs up his feathers a little as he watches them from his large branch perch.

"You say that like you think I'm not used to it," Trace states, rolling her eyes as she pours some water into the little metal cup and swirls it around over the fire. A rich, woodsy scent comes from the cup, though who only knows what herbs are in there and why. "I'm not such a fancy lass, myself! Maybe once in the past. Haven't caught me spending time around royalty in seasons." She glances up, grinning at the weasel and then to the others. "'Less you're trying to get rid of me quickly."

Stubb shrugs and stands halfway, rump resting on the log. He raises his muzzle to the wind and snuffles curiously at it. "'Ardly. Glad t have ya. Anuvva pair a oiyes watchin' our backs is worf tha trouble a having our backs watch anuvver pair a oiyes." He pulls out his dagger and spins it. "So you was royalty too, den?" He nods at Dangeon. "So was dis one, so she says. Den again. She tol' me she was called Jane a ways back, an any number a tales."

Dangeon snorts. "Jane's a name that's been mine 'fore. More 'n a few times. No' really a bally lie." She omits any comment on her suggested 'royalness'.

"Aye, married to a rat king that one, " Amos gestures to the hare, grinning, "You're right welcome to join our little troupe though, following our leader into all kind of perils, " Gesturing to Stubb.

"Who, me? Nooo.." The tea's beginning to boil, and Trace jiggles it a few more times in the pot to stir up the herbs. "No, I'm not royalty. Worked for the great Lord Merdez, though. I was his right hand, for many a season. No. Rats were certainly not royalty from where we came from. But he offered mercy. Friendship. A decidedly upper class position for a low-class citizen." She pulls the pot back, sniffing at her concoction, before taking a sip beyond the settling leaves. "Though the royal hubbub is a bit too stuffy in general, if you ask me." She says this all with that 'upper-class' literacy and enunciation in her accent.

Dangeon waves a paw. "Eh. 's dead by now and 's just that fox and such who want him to continue bein' a bother." The hare mutters, turning her back to the fire as she addresses the cat. Then muses on what the rat says. "Heard o' Merdez. Some talk like you, others say he was the devil."

Stubb eyes dwell on the brew, catching the firelight, then drift to Dangeon as she speaks. "You dress a bi' loike royalty, even if you ain' anymore, ra'." He looks at Trace. "Oi reckon you'd be safer goin' abou' wif a soign sayin' 'Rob Me' dan wif da' getup. Least most a da beast 'oo's loiable ta rob ya can' gavver brains enuff ta read i'." He snickers at his own joke. "For me, oi ain' 'eard a Merdez. Don' fink so, anyhow." His paw drifts to his vest pocket, and he draws out a leaf.

Amos smirks, "Bet ya miss your cushy lifestyle as queen, drinking booze all day and what not, " He laughs at the weasels latest remarks.

"Aye, he might have been the devil," Trace muses, sipping at her tea. "But I'd have rather been on his side than not, if you catch my drift." The stories are likely all true.. and she was certainly behind her fair share of brutal executions in her time. A brow quirks as she looks back to Stubb with a smirk. "Oh, I dare them to try. It's been some time since I've been able to use my blade. Can't very well tug herbs out with a sword the size of your arm."

Dangeon shakes her head. "Not really." She shrugs. "Couldn' do bally well much 'bout it even if I did anyway..." Again, she's listening to the talk of Merdez. "Not as charmin' as the worshippers would have us believe, wot?"

Stubb crosses his arms. "Still don' know 'oo tha bloody fellow was, nor if 'e's still abou'. 'E didn' 'appen ta have any treasure worf shou'in' abou', did 'e?"

"Oh, he was plenty charming enough," Trace muses, sipping on her tea, and then holding out the cup to offer it to the others if they'd like. "But he also had a way of the world that was very set in stone. Almost thought too much of himself for his own good." She nearly chokes on the thought as Stubb speaks. "Oh, that fox had more riches than you could /believe/.."

Amos declines with a shake of his head, listening, "Eh, if you say so. Ya weren't in luv you mean?" He teases the hare.

Dangeon reaches for a turn of the cup. Willing to pass it on too, once she's done apparently. "We should rob 'im then." She eyes what she just drank. "... What was that?" She eyes the cat with a very plain look. No answer.

Stubb grins at Dangeon. "Red me fough's. Though oi din' know tha bloigh'er was still aloive. Oi figured 'e'd a been knocked off boi now, wha' wif tha short loives a dese kings and warlords. So where'd 'e keep 'is riches?"

Amos laughs at the hares expression, smirking, "Ain't booze clearly, " Shrugs at the weasels question, "Beats me."

"Oh, he's dead for all I know," Trace states, grabbing the cup back from Dangeon as she's finished with it. "Peppermint and basil. You like? It's a weird mixture but it helps stave off a lot of the effects of traveling." Is Merdez really dead? The thought's strange to Trace. Not unpleasant, but not a good thing, either. "I figure the hoarde got most of everything when they moved in. You think I'd be on the streets if I knew where his treasure was now?"

"Needs somethin' in it..." The doe mutters, shaking her head. She listens to talk of treasure and chews at nothing, thinking and musing to herself. "Don' really wanna get involved in another goose chase jus' yet..."

Stubb gazes briefly skyward, then looks around at the others. "Oi'm tuckin' in. Bes' we all do tha same. Oi know Angus 'll wann be on tha move soon as firs' loigh'. Heh. An' you'll 'ave ta wai' till civ'lization ta get da somefin' else dat drink's missin', moi long-eared friend." Stowing his dagger again, the weasel rises and disappears behind a pine tree.

The next day...

Another day, another... well, another sunny day, actually. Despite the fact that they were all planning to get up early and head out, Trace wakes up early anyway with the sun rising on the horizon. She's already packed up her stuff, sipping down the rest of her tea as she tugs her light cloak across her shoulders. "Come on, we're burning daylight!" she calls out, rather jovially to the others.

A star-crossed fate draws Scaith into the mix of the encampment, having arrived shortly before dawn and taking it upon herself to settle in next to the closest source of warmth; she lies snuggled up against Amos, enjoying the sleek pelt nature has provided for the cat. "Mm, eggs," she mumbles, half-asleep and smiling rather sweetly for a dirty and drunken vagrant. "Toast'n'butter'n--" Eyes snap wide at the cheery voice, nonplussed as they settle onto Trace in a deathly squint. "Can it, eh, wormtail? M'tryin' t'get m'beauty sleep, iff'n ye don't /mind,/" the marten growls.

Hookclaw flies into the area and lands on a large limb of a nearby tree and peers at the beasts below, in his talons is a fish he starts to eat as he tilts his head and studys the beasts.

Stubb ducks, fully dressed, from behind the pine tree that obscured his departure on the previous night. But for a wrinkle or two and perhaps a tuft of fur gone temporarily astray, he bears no evidence of having passed the night recumbent. It is almost plausible that he ducked into the forest to retrieve his backpack, which is slumped against his back. His small eyes twinkle at Trace as he catches her crowing incitement to action. "Ay, tha's tha ticket, li'tle lady. Oi'd figgered you for a pampered toipe. Guess da' weren' fair a me, were i'?" He fiddles with the strap of his pack. "Tha lizard go' tha jump on us. 'E'll make tha quarry boi midday, oi wagah. Coul'n' talk 'im out a goin'." He shakes his head, but a grin comes unbidden to his face.

Dangeon has woken up sober. And unfuzzy-headed. She doesn't seem happier for it at all. "Ngh." She mumbles, stretching out her back on all fours before she stands, wobbily. She never really has too much to pack up anymore and is apparently nearly ready to go from waking. Just tips some drops of water from a flask to rub in her face. "I don' like this 'mornin' thing."

Amos is sleeping soundly until the rat starts making noise, obviously to the marten beside him but mmmming at the mention of breakfast. He sniffs, disappointed though as he starts to stir, "Ain't no bloody eggs or toast n' butter, " He turns in his waking against the marten, and wakes with a start, "You!" He grins, laughing and still bleary eyed, "Eh, what's going on?"

Trace is in a festive mood, stretching her arms out over her head as she starts to hear the others wake. As normal, Trace's hair is perfectly plaited atop her head, her clothes looking as if they've just come out of a royal fashion show. "It's not going to matter how much sleep you try for," she states, offhandedly. "It's just not working out for you, dear.." She's not really trying to be mean. She's just.. very much feeling rested and giddy this morning about the sunshine. "No pampered lass here, Stubb! Well, come on, kids. Up and at em."

Scaith snorts at Amos as he stirs, sending an unintentional flurry of mucus in his direction; she takes note and offers a light brush to whisk it away, but it proves most futile and she casually wipes her paw clean on his tunic. The snot remains, but spread more thinly. "Aye, me-- y'happy 'bout that, my kitty?" she says, rolling away before lifting herself to her feet, dusting her trousers as she sents a shooting glance at Trace. "Dinnae wot's goin' on, jus' know there's a racke' goin' on between thems two." She points to Stubb and Trace. "Bi' too early f'r that, iff'n ye axe me. Need a proper bref'ess t'git me brain a-goin'. Or maybe somefin' t'drink."

Somewhere in the trees, a pair of eyes squints at the group, lowering a needly branch to view the clearing through a narrow opening in the dense foliage. The eyes snap up to the owl, extremely wary of it... the pupils of the eyes move almost with a paranoia of the great thing in its perch. The thing in the trees leans forward, opening the foliage for further visibility when *CRACK* - the brittle bough snaps and falls atop another, starting the branches below shaking.

Hookclaw tilts his head as he watches the beasts more clearly, he perns a wing and stares at them, he goes to another large tree limb, his fish finished.

Stubb unconsciously runs a palm across his hair, flattening it sheepishly and avoiding looking at Trace. Mercifully, the cracking of a branch pulls his attention from matters of grooming and royalty. "Bloody 'ell. More spoies, oi sappose. More a dem tree-hoppin bushtails?!" He curses. "An tha king a'ready gone off wif Angus." He draws his dagger.

Amos flinches at the flying mucas, gritting his teeth and glaring at her as she starts to wipe it on his tunic, "Ugh, so happy, " He rolls his eyes, muttering in reply, "Guess we're off though, please keep ya bogers to yourself missy, " He shakes his head and stares somewhat confused at the chaos. What?

Dangeon twitches her ears. "Jus' wanna kip 'til I got somethin' more wakin' than tea..." She wrinkles her nose and looks to the woods as Stubb mentions spies. "Yay. Missed 'em." Not serious at all of course.

Trace is feeling pretty good about life.. That is, until the cracking sound comes from the tree. The ratmaid whirls around, hand resting on the hilt of her sword as she eyes the tree. "You weren't kidding about this lot. Trouble just follows you, doesn't it?" She's not of any intent to walk up and investigate at the moment. But she's certainly watching the tree with a close eye, and ignoring the complaints from the waking rest of the party. Don't they realize they could sleep when it's dark?

The suspected tree-hopper may be heard whispering a curse loudly to itself, as the pair of eyes ducks down below the gap in the branches. There it waits, grasping its knees and rocking, hoping the isolated sound is not further investigated. Rocking, rocking, occasionally clutching the bulge in its shirt, twirling it in its paw through the unwashed fabric... the thing looks up in its hideout, leaning around the branches above to see the owl, perched above and on another side of the trunk.

Hookclaw looks down at the tree guest and his eyes flash slightly in the light threw the trees, he moves and spreads his wings out and glares at the creature a moment as his talons moves slightly.

The crack ignites dreadful twinges of a hangover, and Scaith flattens her ears and clenches her eyes. "Th'bloody 'ell-- I travel /all night/ t'find my long lost love, an' th's is what greets me when m'finally restin' quietly in 'is arms," she barks at the noise, legs venturing to carry her toward it. "Now wot in th' peace-lovin' weed-pickin' blazes made that awful sound?" She eyes the location, thumbing the hilt of a dagger. "Answer me!"

Stubb wanders in a Scaithward direction, tailing her at a cautious distance. "Oi see you can' keep yorse'f away. You shou'd a known i'd be hard ta get a proper noigh's sleep around us lo' wifout gettin' ambushed or drawn up into somebeast's mad scheme." His gaze is drawn similarly upward as he moves, angling to get a fix on the target above them. "Finkin' a qui'tin' tha game moisewf an goin back to me first wife. Tha sea."

The creature below shrieks in surprise as the owl looks down at it - the mouse, a 'he', rolls quickly out of the foliage and behind the legs of the marten, "Shield me, please... the great monster is up /there/! I have terrible luck with owls! Oh please!" His arms open to try and latch onto Scaith's legs, almost as if to anchor himself, somehow, to them. From behind his heroine, he looks back at the others nervously. "I.. I followed you... from a great distance. Please do not make my one blunder my last. Nothing... I have nothing left but her...!"

Amos doesn't seem to be clear on things either, flattening his ears similarly at the crack and responding confused to the others, "Long lost what?" He raises some eyebrowls at the marten, smirking though suddenly even more confused as the mouse appears from nowhere and apparently assults the marten, "Eh, breakfast came to us."

Hookclaw doesn't seem intrested in eating the mouse and flaps causeing a small bit of leaves to fall from the trees and a small branch as well as he clears the tree and lands on the pathway by the beasts,he looks at the mouse "Mouse be too loud" he speaks,his voice deep in tone.

Scaith is completely confounded by the compact critter, but her leans to scoop him up in her arms; whether her intent is friendly or fiendish is left to be decided. She takes note of the owl above before eyes settle upon the mouse; "Aye, an acute observation, th'owl makes," she says in agreement, gaze unstraying. "Y'know, li'le one, ye oughtn't jus' cling t'whoever's closest now." A foul smile erupts from her features. "Bu' b'fore we put y'r hide over th' fire-- wha' in the 'eavens are ye even goin' on about? Nothin' left? Why'd ye follow a rag-tag group of miscreants?" She blinks. "Eh?"

Wait, wait. There's a mouse. AND an owl? Trace finally looses the grip on her sword as she walks up behind the others to eye the newcomers. "There's your breakfast," she states offhandedly. "OR. We keep him and have him make breakfast for us. Teach a man to fish, or some rot like that.." The ratmaid folds her arms across her chest, eyeing the owl and then just shrugging her shoulders. "Hey, the more the merrier, I guess. As long as they don't hold us up too long."

"You have..." He swallows, the lump traveling down to his stomach, the pit of which seems to be falling at the same rate, and starts to sweat, "You all have more to do with me than you th-- think. I'm not certain about y-you, but I know the others there, two at least, know the lady I speak of. I am the eldest son of Frigg. I c-came across your group when I was traveling north, and y-you had a squirrel. And then, I saw when... the black fox..." He takes a deep breath, "I wish to find you help, er, help you find them both."

Hactor , who had been trying to sleep during all this, heaved himself up with the aid of a make shift cruch and chuckled what he could only consider warmly. "Well well well," he began to the mouse, "This is the maid' son eh?..."

The name Frigg rings a faint bell in Scaith's brain, but no circuits reach closure; she holds the boy up with her arms, away from her body, and looks to Amos and Stubb for direction. "Eh... so wot'll I do wif th'brat?" she asks, head tilting.

"Eh, does that mean we can't eat him?" Amos mutters, "Couldn't eat the old mouse, and can't eat this one, " He growls hungrily, blinking at Trace and staring at the waking Hactor. Still muddled from just having woke up and the general confusion of everything at the moment.

Mayeul's expression suddenly flares into hatred, and he points from his Scaithly perch at the fox, "You! You should not have helped him! And... and you should have known you were admitting an assassin for the king into the abbey - he killed my brother, you fool! Aaaaagughhh-- let g... go of m...!" He struggles with the marten's grasp, but finally calms, "I'm fi... I'm fine! I'm not mad at you anymore, fox - you have little more than I do now, as far as I see it..."

Hactor smerks at Mayeul and replies grimly, "Well this may be true, but I don't have one thing. A good meal." He smiled showing each one of his sharp, yellow teeth.

Well, they're obviously not going anywhere anytime soon, so Trace lets out a frustrated sigh and tosses her pack off her shoulder to let it drop to the ground. It's heavy enough. If she doesn't have to be carrying it, she might as well take a break. "They don't ever shut up, do they?" she asks, finally walking over and peering over Scaith's shoulder at the struggling mouse. "He looks strong enough to carry a few bags. What say we put him to work?" Her lips curl back into a rather devious grin at this thought. She's not so much into eating mice. They're just too... rat-like.. for her tastes.

Stubb looks in, arms peevishly crossed. "You deal wif tha vermin. Oi can' stand tha soigh' of anuvver a tha' bloody brood." He circles back to the tree and glances anxiously up at the sky, which has grown clear and blue with the rising sun.

Hookclaw looks between the beasts, the talk of food seems to make him hungry as he watches, prehaps they will start fighting one another and he can eat the dead :P

"'ey now," Scaith yaps at Hactor while maintaining her grasp on the wiggling mouse. "I found'em, an' if anyone's gonna 'ave a cute li'l breaffest, s'gonna be /me/," is her prickly defense.

Hactor's ears fold back and he looks to the ground muttering, "Aye, of course." It would appear much if the old foxes brashness and pride had evaporated over the past days. He had mostly stuck to the back of the group, eating and sleeping.

Stubb nods the Hactor. "Oy. King 'Actor. Fought you'd gone off wif tha dragon dis mornin'. Come... oi see a valuable new ally." He attempts to guide the humbled warlord toward Hookclaw.

Amos grumbles impatiently and eyes the mouse hungrily, "What about me, don't I deserve some breakfast for snuggling and marten boogers?"

Mayeul gulps again, looking down at the marten, at /her/ teeth - which, although they are smaller than the fox's, are a great deal closer. "I... I am an excellent tracker! I tracked you all, in stealth... well, up until now... I can track the fox and his new captive. You may have me carry /anything/, please. If you eat me, much will be lost... much more than the emptiness of your stomachs for a few hours. P-please, trust me... I am M-Mayeul." He looks with panic at Stubb, "No! No, I beg you not to make me travel alongside that monster!" He reaches out over the marten's shoulders, grasping seemingly for Stubb's sense of compassion.

Hookclaw looks at the fox as he nears him and speards out his wings wide, he tilts his head and then perns a wing as he keeps his ears open...ears? well owls do have them somewhere.

Hactor limps with the weasel only nodding lsightly in reply. One his eye lands on the large bird he his at a loss for words. He finally manages to croak, "By the claw! I havent' seen one of your kind in ages. What brings to our humble lil menagerie?"

Stubb, Hactor, and Hookclaw leave. Continued here.

Scaith's arms eventually tire of the mouse and she unceremoniously deposits him upon the ground below, stretching her limbs to loosen the tightened muscles. "Oi, oi," she groans. "I dinnae think anyone's goin' t'eat ye this fine morn." She rubs at her face, obviously tired of the situation. "Though tis nice of ye t'offer carryin' me bags." She points to the sacks she has brought, which are virutally the same size as Mayeul. "Now what's got ye thinkin' y'r so valuable t'these ol' blokes?"

Amos eyes the little mouse, hmms, "Guess he is a bit too little for eating, but don't see how he can be of any use to us, " He seems to get bored of the little mouse, turning to look at Scaith, "So, you're back eh... boggering your way into my life once again!"

"Because.." The mouse looks up at the marten, comforted a bit by her words, "...I know Anba Hor, better than all of them. I've been down in his lairs, know his usual routes, have followed him much longer than I've followed you all. And you all want what the squirrel was leading you to, right? Or weren't you aware there was a purpose to this gang?"

Darkmane wanders back toward the group after having finished yet another self decided scouting mission, a slight yawn escaping his lips as his wanderings was totally eventless for a change. The equines eyes slowly scanning the gathering after a specific form before making his way directly over toward Dangeon.

Scaith's ears must have misheard the mouse. "Anothah... whore?" she repeats in question. "Tha' can't be right," she mumbles to herself. "Don't s'pose I was ever made aware of this group's intentions-- m'not fully acquainted with them, t'be honest."

Dangeon has since sat down again where she was before, she didn't really want to move yet anyway. The hare needs refueling. She smiles as she sees the horse approaching. "Welc'm' back."

Amos errupts into laughter at Scaith, snickering, "Eh, don't think that's what he was saying. Maybe we should keep him around for entertainment, " He smirks.

"/Anba/ Hor... the story is too long, I'm afraid. For me, he is somewhat of a fascination I admit... he's taken me prisoner, yes, tortured and even tried to kill me, but... well, not wholly so. I don't think his heart is in my death - rather in complete and utter chaos. He may want what I want - the death of the squirrelking your group was shoving around earlier... but even now I'm not convinced His Highness is dead. So, I continue to seek his destruction."

Darkmane glances over at the mouse for a moment then dismisses him from his mind for now, his gaze instead turning to Dangeon as he grins down at her "Heya sunshine, you don't look quite like yourself" a hand extending to give the top of her head a playfull ruffle "I bet I know what could cure that tho"

"Two things." Dangeon grins up at the horse tiredly. "No' bein' conscious this early. And th'obvious." She looks to the mouse, blinks and looks back at the horse. "I think 'e's somethin' t' do with the other one."

Trace seems to have gone off, making another tea concoction or finding herbs or whatever it is that she tends to do when she disappears randomly. Whatever the case, the ratmaid moseys on back into the area, playing with a few leaves in her hands as she realizes the group is still discussing things that she doesn't really understand. It's part of this whole new-to-the-group thing. She offers a wave of her hand to those who might be looking in her general direction.

Stubb has arrived.

Stubb returns from his moot with the owl and warlord, looking somehow smaller than usual. He regains his animation as he draws near Amos, Scaith, and their little captive. "Don' fink we'll be needin' yore help much, li'tle mouse." He smiles in a way that is uncharacteristically vile. "Our birdy frien' 'as given us all we requoire, regardin' our mutual acquaintance, tha fox." He pauses. "Oi must say, ' took a shoine ta yer mum. Strong li'tle lady. But 'er lot ain' our concern... 'Less you can make i' such."

Mayeul looks depressed by the news, "You speak nonsense... I can do nothing for you if you'll not believe I am the most qualified tactician against the fox. What does this owl know of Anba Hor? Does it know his usual hiding spots? Is it able to track underground, or even through dense brush?" He sighs, "Where did you leave my mother? Is she safe? I only heard you speak of her... she is back north, or is the squirrelking leading you to back to her?" The mouse seems confused on this point...

Stubb looks at Scaith. "Talks a lo', don' 'e?"

Darkmane chuckles softly as he leans down and scopes the hare up in his arms "Well, then lets see about solving those two problems then, I'm fairly sure we will have more fun if we start with the latter problem first tho" His gaze surveying the group once more and giving everybody a respectfull nod as he stands back up proper,

"IS THAT A HORSE?" Trace's words cut through the group randomly as she somehow realizes that the big mass in the corner isn't a mountain like she thought, but... actually a living, breathing horse. And as Trace eyes the horse, she recognizes his form.. vaguely. After all, it's not like there's many horses around the area.

Dangeon is scooped and seems happy enough there. "I agree." She smiles, then turns her head at the shout. Blinks. People aren't used to horses; she still forgets that. "Uh."

Stubb looks at the mouse. "The king's army took your mum. Can' say wha' business def have wif 'er." He sniffs. "An oi don' reckon i's moi concern. As for the owl..." He gestures. "You can ask 'im yourse'lf. Seems 'es spotted tha bloigh'er from above." The weasel chuckles. "You can' floi, can you?"

Mayeul shakes his head, "And where are they? His entire army? Im... Impossible!" He looks shocked, but is thrown back into his senses when the question of flight is brought up, "I fly through terrain... can you fly? What is the point of flight, if the thing cannot scoop you up with it and transport you all - no, I can do just as well on the ground, with even the faintest signs."

Hactor has arrived.

Hactor hobbles up to the group. When he reaches Stub he whispers into the weasel's ear, "Owl's left. Gave him orders ta find Anba an kill em, and to bring the squirrel alive." He then turns to look grimly apon Mayeul.

Darkmane turns his gaze over toward the source of the scream and quirks a grin "I tend to prefer being called Darkmane personally, it seems more civilized then 'IS THAT A HORSE' and other similar comments, Its an pleasure to have met you tho, however Dangeon here and myself have some other business to take care off" A slight dip of his head as he starts away from the group.

Stubb nods to Hactor. "Tha use a floigh'?" he says, regarding Mayeul. "See for yourse'f. Seems the ole fox still go' some a his foxiness lef'. 'Actor's arranged ta have your frien' tha squirrelking carried back here on tha wing. Once we've go' wha' we can out a him, maybe we'll be koind enough ta turn the /ex/-royal over ta you. /If/ you're willin' to offer somefin in return." He looks at his nails, evidently becoming rather comfortable with this Machiavellian side of his personality. "Uvverwoise... can' see much use in keepin you abou' in tha meantoime."

"Anything... name your terms, weasel." The mouse grips the object around his neck through his shirt, and seems to brighten in mood... "The squirrel wants me for the location of some mountain fortress. I alone know where it was built, because I was the relay between its builders and the king. I had never gotten around to disclosing the information, because it was kept secret for a reason... I don't know if any of this concerns you, though."

Hactor's tattered ears perk at the mention of a fortress. But this is all that shows the stoic foxe's rise in interest.

"Oi see," Stubb says. "I' don' concern us, unless yore information's worf coin ta somebeast. If it ain', den you ain'."

Mayeul stares at Stubb, in awe of his apparent ignorance. "This fortress presents a /huge/ problem for the Empire of rats to its north and a similar group now in occupation of Ruingate. They plan to trade freely, and need the pass the fortress blocks. I not only have information about the location of the fortress, but of its weaknesses... /that/ is the information that is worth... well, millions in coin. Worth whole economies to these rats."

Hactor was becoming more and more interested. He leans slightly over and whispers to Stubb, "I say we listen to him. He could be very usefel. A plan is in the works my friend..A great plan!"

Stubb grimaces. "Yore tha one wif thoughts a grea' plans, ma'e." He turns fully to Hactor. "Tha rest of us 'ave our own purposes. No arms. No 'economies'. Freedom an' coin. Or somefin. Or someone. Squirrel--" he looks back. "Jes' where moigh' we redeem dese so-called 'millions' you promise?"

"You would want to head straight to this empire. Or Ruingate." The mouse sighs, still wary of what another encounter with Nidlorf might mean for him - controlled or otherwise - and shakes his head, "And the empire is almost impossible to reach without much danger... I don't know what kind of history you all have at Ruingate, though... it seems you have just left there?"

Hactor opens his mouth to retort, but then shuts it quickly, his mangy tail going between his legs and his eye looking to the ground. It was startelingly clear to the former warrior that things had changed, and Stubb was now in charge. When Mayuel speaks again Hactor looks derectly at him, containing a slight growl.

Stubb jabs his chest. "Oi can only speak for moise'f. Oi ain' goin norf again. Oi'm goin wif moi frien ta help him foind 'is boy. You've stalled me enough as i' is, an 'gus is probably dere boi now," he says, irritability creeping in. He touches Hactor's shoulder. "Look, ma'e. Oi don' blame you if you follow dis run'..."

Mayeul lets them argue. He's content with having some handle upon the seeming greed of the older fox. "Well, I can see you have your differences... I don't want to be the cause for fighting, though. You know that my passion is solely for Nidlorf. He has been the bane of my life and of many hundreds of squirrels and others that know no better life than that of being subject to him and his enemies."

Hactor glares some more at Mayeul but then sighs and turns back to Stubb and sayes, "No. I'm through putting faith in murderors and fools. I shall spend the rest of my days traveling and meditating on what it is to be a warrior." He then turn and grits his teeth willing himself not to backhand the mouse as he continues on about the Squirrelking. "Enough!" he barks. "If the squirrel fool Nidlorf is such a problem. and bane then why not leave him in the hands of The Torturer?!"

Mayeul swallows nervously, but collects his thoughts, "Well... it's not obvious to me the intentions of that fox... he could do anything, including subject the innocent citizens of my homeland to further suffering. With the king, alive, he can probably do much more harm than if he simply killed him."

"Well then you can bloody find em yourself!!" growls Hactor. His gravelly roar is so loud it even makes a few birds scatter above. After the tod regains his composure he calmy continues, "Now get out of my sight, before I regain some old predatory instinct."

Mayeul shrinks back, is on his knees for a brief period. "Please... if you have any mercy! I just ask again... you left Frigg Fyrpels back north, yes? She /is/ there? With the others?" He rises and is already on his northward way, his back to his destination...

Stubb looks at him quietly. "Far as we know, ma'e." With some difficulty, he turns his face southward and waves the rest of the group on. "Come on, def. Toime's wastin'."

Hactor is very close to loosing it again, but he takes anoth deep breath. He then steadies his good eye squarely on those of Mayuel and glares, before turning and limping along with Stubb and the others. "Good luck mate!," he calls back over his shouldre. "Because the way I see it your either owl food or fox food from this point on!"