Harsh Mistress
« continued from Not Alone in the Dark.
- Location: Collinsel Tunnel, North Mossflower Woods
- Participants: Delilah (Stubb Spoof), Dangeon, Sandy, Amos, Angus, Malcolm, Hactor, Drystan, Scaith
With a grace remarkable under the circumstances, Delilah hoists herself backwards up to the rim of the hole in the wall of the sewer tunnel. She turns carefully about and, holding a paw before her as a shield, plunges into the darkness of another side tunnel. "I don't plan to slow down for any of ya," the weasel's voice booms out in her wake. "If the squirrel's coming along, she'd better keep up."
Dangeon follows along with no slow pace, but no particular urgency to her step. Her ears perk and swivel, making sure she can keep tabs on where Delilah has gone. "'S fine. We'll keep up." The haremaid replies. "How much bally further a' we goin'? Not keen on this tunnel lark..."
Of all the things she used to think she would do in her life, Sandy never imagined she would be trampling along in the sewers behind a group of beasts like this. Being a lady of her word though, she kept her promise - following the rest of the group, she was as quiet as she was before she even met the group.
A shallow stream of water, perhaps deposited by the storm above, washes unsteadily down the tunnel, opposing their climb. Delilah's paws slosh ahead undeterred, squelching out a steady rhythm. Her form, erect and serious, is silhouetted by the torch she holds out in front of her. "Not much further. Did you complain this much when Stubby was leading you?"
"Aye." The doe confirms, actually fairly pleasantly. "Moreso, in fact when we walked s' bally much. Usually have a very, very nice horsey fella t' carry me about. Bit o' squeeze for that in some o' these bloomin' tunnels though." She flicks an ear back to listen for Sandy. "Havin' fun so far, Squirrelimiss?"
Sandy gives a disgusted groan. She'd just stepped in something, and she didn't quite want to think of what it could have possibly been; shaking her foot with even more disgust, she looked at the doe with a disgusted frown. "Peh... I'm goin' back the way I came, it feels like." she replied, following at a brisk pace.
"I see. Well, he always was..." Delilah pauses and turns her head to the side to gather up whatever fragments she can of Sandy's speech over the chorus of sloshing paws. "We'll be out of it soon, like I said," she says after the slave girl has finished. "Stubb was always quite patient. Not the smartest, but always patient. Say, cat," she calls to Amos. "Do you know where he was headed next? After Collinsel, I mean."
"Can't say that do, always just believed in and followed ol' Stubb for the most part and if he wanted us to go somewhere eh maybe it'll get interesting, " Amos smirks, shrugging as he follows after the group, "Can't say I've had much time to talk to him about any of this with all the running about and him going off on his own before all this mess happened anyway."
Dangeon nods. "Very patient." The hare agrees. "And, squirrelimiss, if this is the way y' bally came... 's there any nasty surprises we ought t' know about ahead?"
Sandy rubs her paws together, frowning a little bit. She only remembered seeing a torch or two along the way; she merely hid from them expertly. "Well... I saw some... things. I hid from them, and couldn't tell what they were..." she replied, before rubbing her eyes. "They had torches... And they were moving this way." she added.
Delilah's nod is slight, but the torch amplifies its effect by projecting the shadow of her head down the tunnel behind her. "Mm," she says thoughtfully, then lets the squirrel speak again. "Hmm," she repeats softly.
"I normally ain't th' one t' bemoan th' collectin' of constituents but, mates, ye'r yankin' me, right?" An imposing, though visibly waterlogged, creature cranes his head around the next crook in the corridor. The inquiry is punctuated with a mischievous smile, as Angus plucks his gaze from Sandy and locks it upon the others. "At least ye' managed t' locate our lovely leader," he adds, gleaming, in the torchlight, at Delilah.
"Angus! See, ain't a thing to worry about. Told ya he could take care of himself, " Amos grins, thumbing towards the weasel, "She was fretting about ya she was, and as for the squirrel she ain't seem so bad and maybe useful yet."
Malcolm is lagging behind a little bit, still carrying Frigg over his shoulder. He's mumbling and growling under his voice, even swearing quite often. "Are we there yet?" he doesn't even really know where they're going really.
Dangeon raises a paw as Angus appears and gives a quick smile. Though it's somewhat subdued by the environment. "None of us really doubted it." She smirks as Malcolm pipes up with something close to her own thoughts. "Up 'head says 's not far."
Sandy resumes her quiet stature, planning on only talking when talked to. Following the group quietly, she felt as if she had walked into something she might eventually regret having done so...
The young weasel pauses in her tracks. Her head bobs sharply up. "Angus!" She continues forward through the muck. "Gave me a fright for a moment. Took a shortcut, did you?"
Angus cants his chin to the enthusiastic hellos. "Howdy." The dragon then slinks around the corner, now in full view, and drops his shoulder to the wall beside him. He is caked from neck to toe in filth. "Mally?" His stare hardens, probing for the face that promised safety for his son. "I dunno' who t'pummel worser: you or th' danged fox. An'.." Now his dark appraisal fixes on the inert, ignobly toted rodent. "What th' heck happened t' th' crone?" Reflexively pinching the bridge of his snout with an index digit and thumb, the dragon holds out the opposite hand, palm flat and vertical, to block the baffling image. "Shortcut t' nowhere but gloom and gunk, love," he finally grunts to the weasel.
Amos follows the dragon and waves the offending smell away from his nose, "Can't say I know, Mally just found him like that and brought her along and you stink Angus ol' pal, " He adds, grinning, "Least we're all back together again, eh... merily trudging around the sewers after dangerous beast and what not." As Mal speaks, Amos thinks better of saying anything. Still slightly cross with the lad for earlier.
"I's a usual sort o' day..." Dangeon comments. "Dark, dank places. Missin' beasts an' going around aft' bally murderers an' madbeasts. Feels like th'dance we've done f'rever."
Sandy tilts her head curiously from what the group was saying. She hoped she could fit in with the group eventually... Following, she held up her paw curiously. "Um... Murderers, praytell?"
Delilah slinks ahead, passing Angus and probing the tunnel with her head outstretched before her.
Angus sinks into the wall as Delilah sloshes past. "Eesh, love." His head swivels to follow her quiet departure, then he twists and pursues. "Prop th' ole' mouse on a dry spot, Mally. We'll come back fer her."
Malcolm looks down at the mouse then shrugs. His eyes scan the tunnel and he spots what is probably the driest place here. He grabs Frigg again and then just pushes her onto it. "Okay."
Amos follows along with the others.
Sandy frowned, looking a little disappointed. She was used to being ignored, and having her questions go unanswered... But with other free beasts? She bit her tongue though, and pressed forward.
Delilah trudges onward in silence, and her demeanor and bearing suggest that the others should do the same. Only the crackling of the torch and the subdued trickling of the water is audible. Then she says in a low voice, "We're nearing the end. I don't know exactly what to expect, but..." She points. Some distance ahead, a narrow opening admits a window onto the star-speckled sky.
Angus stalls momentarily, waiting for Malcolm to catch up. When the lad nears, the dragon places a comforting palm against his back, and guides the boy along the sludge. "Aye. Hear that, Mal? Almost out." He removes the hand shortly, and winces, noting the filthy print it has left behind. The lizard coughs softly, but says nothing.
Sandy glances back to where they had left the mouse, frowning a bit more. She felt bad for the poor lady... But there was no turning back now; she followed the group, still silent as could be.
Malcolm looks to Angus for a moment then away. "I heard." he grumbles out. "I ain't deaf." the lizard hisses quietly, making sure it was quiet, but still audible enough.
Angus throws a brief look over his shoulder. "Don't fret, m'dear. Th' bag of bones's been followin' us fer moons. She's tougher than ye'd think, an' she's likely for the better not bein' stuck, uncon--*Malcolm*," he cuts to chastise. "Ahem. Ye' know. Iffin' we run into th' ruffians or, what'd ye?" Angus asks, "' call 'em, Dang? Murderers. Scallywags."
Delilah glares over her shoulder at her noisy companions but adds nothing to what she said before.
Hactor stays at the back of the group, acting for the moment as their 'eye' and ears. He can still hear many srange, far off noices in the deep. but doesn't give them any meret for the time being. He just continues to listen, keeping his paw on his sword hilt just in case.
Malcolm rolls his eyes a little bit and completely ignores his father, just trudging along.
Sandy starts to get her thoughts again about who these beasts were after... And why they'd be looking for them in a sewage system, of all things.
A wind whistles over the mouth of the tunnel, breathing cool relief into the heavy air of the tunnel. "Rain's stopped," Delilah says, listening. "It's a shame it washed the trail away. We'll have to keep alert from here on."
Angus trots, or, rather, slogs past Malcolm, until he is at Delilah's side. He begins to speak, but resigns, tongue anxiously fluttering.
Amos acknowledges the weasel as he moves to catch up with the others, grunting as he looks expectedly to their surroundings for danger.
Malcolm follows along and as soon as he's outside, he takes a deep breath. "Finally!" he grins a little bit then looks at the others, realizing they're sure to rain on his parade. The lizard sighs once. And frowns again.
Hactor takes a deep breath of the fresh air growling, "Fianlley indeed."
Sandy gives the others a curious expression, rubbing her head a little bit. "You found what you were looking for?" she asked curiously, wondering what there was to be 'finally' about.
Delilah suddenly turns and plants the torch in the wall. She turns her back toward the exit, facing the others. "From here... we walk in darkness." The orange-red light plays across her serious face. "Remember, we're doing this for Stubby. I want to know what they did to him. The Keepers... they're capable of some terrible things. But... Let's hope..." She shakes her head. "Well, let's just hope we can find them before they disappear into the shadows."
"Let em just try ta run!" barks Hactor from the back, unshelifing his sword.
Angus chews his lower lip, brow deeply furrowed, but this vision of concern fades as the troupe moves beyond the outer rim of torchlight. All that persists is the glint of an eye, the traipsing of weary feet, and of course, the exultant howl of a fox. "Hactor!" the dragon hisses, though his complaint is somewhat muted
Delilah, too, looks in Hactor's direction, miffed at the fox's uninhibited outburst.
Sandy jumps a bit in surprise, turning around - she wasn't that far away from the fox. She tried not to seem COMPLETELY startled though.
Hactor just leanes a against his blade like a cane. "What ya looking at me fer. Tunnels tha way."
Malcolm blinks when Hactor bursts out loudly like that, the younger of the two lizards, turning and growling. "Shuddup will ya? You're gonna let every beast know where we are, y'idot". He doesn't care. But he doesn't want to die either.
Delilah's arms snake over one another until they are firmly, and disapprovingly, folded across her chest. Like a schoolmark, she waits for their bickering to die down.
Delilah turns back toward the exit and marches up the tunnel into the cool night.
Malcolm stares at Hactor then shakes his head, turning and follows Delilah.
Sandy was feeling a bit more jumpy now... Deciding to not sit around and wait for more things to occur to scare her senseless, she quickly got ready to go out of the tunnel.
Hactor just shrugs, and swaggers after the others.
Angus lizards along.
Amos grumpily follows after the others.
They emerge from the tunnel into the Mossflower Woods
Delilah's head emerges from the mouth of the tunnel into the nighttime cool that has followed in the wake of the thunderstorm. The moon is a mere sliver, but the clear sky is freckled densely with stars. "C'mon," she whispers into the tunnel. She cranes her head forward and squints, eager to adjust her eyes to seeing without the aid of a torch.
Hactor emerges , peering and listening closley. The cool, night air feels good as a light breese ruffles through his fur. He breaths in deeply, savoring the sweetness of the fresh air. So far there is nothing out of the ordinary. A cricket chirp there, a lightning bug there. All in all another peacefull night in Mosslfower wood.
"Ye' ain't gotta' tell us twice, love," the dragon softly croons, swiping his feet among the grasses to displace their grimy film. He, too, blinks, and smiles at the mottled sky above. "Brilliant." Then his mind is back to the quest. Pivoting, he bounces a finger, performing a haphazard headcount, before turning to the weasel for further guidance.
Sandy wasn't much looking forward to leaving the sewers. It meant she'd be more of an easy target for anyone wanting to bring her back to her master... Staring up at the sky, she gave a light smile and a sigh. "Lovely..."
Malcolm wipes his feet clean of the muck and shudders a bit in disgust before looking to the sky. "What? No one ever seen stars before?" he asks, looking around for a moment or two at the gathered beasts.
"When ya get as old and beeten as me lad," began the old tod, "Ye appreciate these little moments of calm."
Out back into the open at last, Amos visibly looks relieved, "Glad to be out of that muck, " He chuckles at the fox, "Aye, and of fresh air and freedom from the stanky beasts the lot we are."
Their surroundings come gradually into view, laid over in a thin film of starlight. Tall trees sway like sleepy sentinels in a rough circle around them. The head of a path leads off into the forest. Delilah sniffs the air. "Can't smell a thing. Just sap and rain." She leans to the ground. Her eyes crawl tenaciously over its surface...
Malcolm yawns a little and shakes his head a bit. "Just a sky to me, calm or not." he shrugs.
Amos mutters at Mal, just a sky. He shakes his head and enjoys the fresh air, the smell of rain quiet pleasant now that its stopped.
Hactor roles his eye at the youth. "Well," he grumbles, "We aint gonna foind Stubb jast sitten around all night. Let's help Delilah." And woth that the fox began scouring the forest floor for any sighnes of where the Keepers whent.
Sandy rubs her head with a light frown. She wanted to just shout out and ask what the hell a Keeper was, but she thought better of it; people looking for her might be nearby. Instead, she tilted her head, as a sign of curiosity.
Delilah gives the old codger a funny look. "Almost wish the Order of the Damned had finished the job," she mumbles to Angus. "They already got his brain..."
"Eh, what's that suppose to mean?" Amos frowns, looking at Delilah, "Will he recover, I thought he'd be okay?"
Hactor looks up from his 'work' . "What in the blazes are you lot gawking at eh? Use yer bloody heads!"
Angus stifles a laugh; instead, the lizard delivers a raspy snort, and, punished for this mirth, he chokes on the the phlegm precipitated by his ruthless little outburst. As the topic shifts, the dragon becomes self-conscious of his sputtering, hooks his mouth in an arm, and aims his hacking at the nearest tree.
Sandy frowns and folds her arms. She didn't say anything, but she figured her curiosity would never get cured. So she decided to forget her promise. "WHAT is the damn Keepers?!" she finally asked, a little loudly.
Malcolm walks back Angus as he starts coughing, the younger lizard shaking his head. "If you cough up a lung and die, can I have your stuff?" he asks, jokingly. Sandy's outburst makes him stop dead, blinking a moment and turning to look towards her.
"Cuss..... Cuss...... Cuss th' inkee'..... Cuss th' inn....." Words drift on the night air, vague, far-off ranting only partly audible, but gradually growing in volume and shrinking in distance. "/Curse/ this rain, and /curse/ these woods, and /curse/ this city. Curse it all to Hellsgates!" The cursings appear to be originating from a somewhat distant, golden-furred fox, apparently oblivious to the group emergent from the sewers. He is wet; yea, verily. Even the black vest with its strange coating is sticking wetly to his body. (Drystan)
Delilah sighs loudly and turns to look once again at the sky. "I'm impatient to get moving--" Her eyes dart to Sandy. "The Keepers? That's a long story, my little friend." The weasel's voice is oddly sharp. "It's what they call themselves. The Keepers of the Silver Star." She slides up to the squirrel and leans in. "And if they catch you, you will wish you were still a little slave girl." She looks up at the cursing.
"What? Th' shirt on my back, Mally?" the dragon balks, once recovered. He palms the tree trunk, driving a frustrated claw into the bark, before he flings a sharp look at Sandy. "They ain't nothin' t' be trifled with, that's fer sure, love. Bloody sapped our pal of his wits, an--" But an unfamiliar voice cuts in there.
Hactor is about to put in his less than humble opinion, when he to hears the loud and complainging voice. He turns and spys the mutch younger fox heading in ther derection. "Oh toads," he murmurs. He looks to Delilah, wondering wether or not this newest arrival is a friend or foe.
Malcolm rolls his eyes. "If they're that bad, why'd you bring ME along?!" he asks angrily. "You obviously don't care a-what now?" he frowns, looking out to the voice that cut pretty much everyone off.
Sandy was about to retort about her old sword skills, but she, too, had heard the complaining voice, looking over to the direction she could hear it coming from. She muttered, "Great, another annoyin' complainin' mouth to listen to..." under her breath, though someone was bound to hear it.
"And curse that bloody merchant, too," Drystan adds as an afterthought, stepping blithely over a damp, moss-covered log. Something catches the fox's attention then; perhaps the stillness of the woods or some sixth sense, but for whatever reason, his eyes trend upwards to observe the little congregation. "-Oh."
Amos mumbles something and holds his sword as he draws it, "Ya one to talk squirrel maid."
Delilah can't conceal a smile, though the night helps there. "Now you know how I feel about you," she says playfully, but rather cruelly, out of the side of her mouth. She slinks back to the front of the group. "Just a drunkard wandered out of the coddling walls of his city, I expect," the weasel says, loud enough for the newcomer to hear. "Any Keeper would have sense enough to keep quiet in a strange place."
"Aye, good point," replies Hactor sheething his swor. "Good ta finally see another member of me own race...even one so whiney."
Drystan stands still for a moment, eyes roving over the group, drinking in every detail possible from this distance before attempting to speak. The monitors are the first to gain his notice, large and scaly as they are, then the weasel with her strange words. The Keepers are unknown waters; a mental note not to speak of them. The other fox seems amiable enough, however, even putting his sword away, and so it is to him that Drystan addresses his words, choosing each carefully before ejecting them from his mouth en masse. "Perhaps you would be feeling similarly put out had the injustices performed upon me been rendered unto you, sir," the fox begins, a small smile playing on his lips, as though party to some private joke known only to him.
Sandy looks to the ground at the two comments directed to her, looking quite hurt. Even if she was free now, she was still subjected to the cruel treatment. Not saying a thing, she looked back up at the newcomer, frowning.
Hactor grunts, as mutch of an agreement as the younger fox will get. He then speeks to Delilah, though his good eye is still on Drystan. "I say we ferget this one love. We got bigger fish ta fry, or so the sayn' goes. Aye?"
Angus lingers in the shadow of the tree, watching. He appraises the newcomer, but says nothing, mien flat.
Malcolm is big. But not as big as Angus (not yet at least) and so when he stares at the fox a moment, he takes a couple of steps back and puts the larger monitor between them. Just a bit.
Angus's paternal hand drifts to Malcolm's shoulder, but does not make contact. It hovers, thoughtful, and withdraws.
"Pike would be a good example," Drystan puts in after Hactor's comment.
"Read my mind, fox," Delilah, despite this remark to Hactor, nevertheless gives the drunkard an elaborate curtsy. "Well met, O stranger from the woods. 'Tis an ill fate that bids us be on our way. We have business that urges us begone." She snorts at her own joke and moves to brush past him, en route to the trailhead.
Angus bobs his chin, indicating that Malcolm follow, as he starts after Delilah. This time, no mind is paid to the others.
Hactor begins to follow as well but not before adding, "Ya can come along stranger, ir ye must. Could use a meatshield."
"Business like washing the stench of the sewers from your garments?" Drystan chuckles softly, shaking his head. "You'll never catch whoever you're tracking unless you do; they'll smell you coming a league off."
Sandy gave a light little sigh, and shook her head a bit. "The fox is right... We smell. Terrible." she replied, before flinching; she was used to being struck from comments like that.
Malcolm blinks when his father motions for him to follow. He nods a bit and follows closely behind. He doesn't fight much and that sword on his belt is really just there for show, even though he'd never admit that.
Delilah stops halfway to the path. "I don't suppose there's much we can do about that, under the circumstances. Time's wasting, and the trail's going cold." She huffs, "The Keepers will be leagues from here by the time we're finished scrubbing the scum from our hides."
The weasel's pause allows Angus to meet her. His eyes coast among the noxious ragamuffins, before they slip sidelong to Delilah. "Dear." He pauses, as if carefully orchestrating his next words. "Er," he starts, obviously falling short of anything eloquent. "Might I have a word with you?"
A rustle sounds from a bush, and a pair of eyes settle upon the weary group, unseen. (Scaith)
Angus zomgs.
Drystan shrugs, not really caring. "Whatever. Your funeral."
Sandy shook her head again - only to perk up and notice something. Staring to the bushes where she could have sworn she saw something...
Amos focuses on the eyes, still holding his weapon ready.
A delighted squeal meets Angus's zomgs, and the pair of eyes morph into a musky mustelid.
"My love!" it shrieks.
The acrid aroma is unmistakable. "Sc-Scaith!" Angus reels from Delilah, questions forgotten, and barrels, arms outstretched, for his fair fling.
Sandy rubs the back of her head, looking completely bewildered at the scene. "What the hell...?"
Amos shrugs at Sandy, "Ya ain't ever been in love missy squirrel?" He snickers, "Or whatever them two got for each other."
It is Scaith, the putrid peach, and she falls into Angus' arms. "S'been too long!"
Delilah watches darkly, still itching to go. "I think we have problems worse than our smell," she says, eyeing Scaith up and down. "All this noise we're stirring up is doing us no favors." She grinds her teeth, and her nostrils flare.
Sandy glances over at Amos, and frowns. "Either I was a cruel and successful slaver who didn't bother with love, or I was a slave who was never shown love." she replied, also giving off her own background. Slightly.
"It's the second one," Drystan confides to Amos in response to Sandy's statement, grinning. "Or I'll give you three coppers."
"Be a dear an' le' us 'ave dis one embrace," Scaith begs of Delilah, cajoling eyes boring into the jill. "Ain't no'un oo'll be disturbed by dis kind o' love-- and if dey is, den dey'll 'ave me scaly prince to mess wi'."
Angus, duly absorbed, is deaf to the dire warning, as he smothers the marten with his squamous affections. Twirling Scaith in a romantic dip, he lifts a finger to her lips. "Hush, m'love. Don't sully our reunion."
Amos half listens to Sandy's woes, grinning as the dragon and marten reunite, "Ain't that tough, " Amos replies not sounding too sympathetic to the squirrel maids past, laughs at Drystan's remark and puts away his weapon as he watches the pair.
Sandy shudders and closes her eyes. Seemed the display of affection was either creeping, or grossing, her out. "Startin' to wish I hadn't bungled that one job." she said, shaking her head. If she had to be tough to stick with this group, she was going to do her best.
Drystan sits down on that damp, mossy log, simply watching proceedings with that same small grin sneaking about on his face.
Delilah's demeanor has undergone a slow metamorphosis, so that now she is positively livid, pacing back and forth, angry energy coursing through her.
Amos pays no attention to the weasel, watches the happy couple.
