Heap of Trouble

Stubb, Angus, Amos, Tundutwaa, Darkmane, Scaith

Location: Foxglove Hollow (Northern Lands)

Evening bruises the sky above, etching the clouds above in purple whorls that bear witness to the recent storms. The light that filters through the bare-limbed trees gilds the forest floor in a brilliant orange and falls directly across Stubb's face as he emerges into a small clearing. He lifts his forearm to shield his eyes. His vest hangs open, making his long fur vulnerable to the light breeze that trickles through, and showing off his freshly bandaged midriff. The visit by the odd hedgehogs seems to have done him well: his spirits seem high, relative to this morning's misery, and he walks with an easy gait. "Dey said i' were dis way, tha fox's ol' ditch. We 'ave ta pass tha fallin' stone 'ere."

Angus waltzes in the wake of the weasel. The rest, it would seem, has likewise heightened the dragon's slipping spirit. His tail drifts from side to side, held just above the slushy earth. "Aye, mate--smells like a dog-place, if ye' ask me." Tongue languidly slipping from his mouth, the lizard dips to inspect a local stump. "But y'know those flea-bitten mongrels like t'mark just about anything in sight." He recoils, obviously put-off by what ever he gleaned from the timber.

Amos hobbles along after his comrads, still limping along with the help of the crudely fashioned walking stick yet he too seems focused and energetic towards their impending purpose, "Aye, we're on the right track now, " he grins.

Above, squirrels gaze down at the bold intruders, but have orders to let the bunch through their perimeter. It's a wide one, and soon after passing the trees littered with the tree-dwellers, there is no sign of them. Up ahead, there is the statue, upright once again, but nothing surrounding it.

Darkmane gaze surveys the area slowly as he follows the group seeming somewhat more subdued and thoughtfull as he speaks "Its about time tho, took us far to long to get here i think" his head shaking slightly as he returns his focus more fully on the present.

Stubb chuckles. "Guess I shou'd fank de maker oi ain' go' your nose, ma'e. Er, tongue, dat is. Oi don' fancy tha smell a dog hangin' in me nostrils, partic'ly after dat slop wha' tha li'tle, er, poine cones fed us." He makes a face. "Hmm. Don' see nuffin'---" He wheels to look at Darkmane. "Maker above, Darkie! Nearly blew me 'eart out a moi chest! 'Ow's a grea' fella loike you go sneakin' abou' tha woods so quiet?!"

Snout crinkled, Angus regards the stump with a very offended glare. "At least yer lot is polite enough t'find a corner, right, Stubbster? Exeptin' that one chap back in th' Busted Fence or what ever th' locals called it. Filthy cur-beasts. Is it so unreasonable t'just *scratch* out the perimeter of yer territory? Why they gotta--" The lizard halts his lament as Amos nears, turning to the tune of his gimpy feline crony. "*Wish* it was tracks we were pursuin'." He quirks a delighted brow at the horse; his grin, cast over his shoulder, is lop-sided and toothy. "Oi, mate--barely caught yer approach what with th' kitteh's thump-crunch-drag-thumpin'. Didn' those hoggies' miracle brew fix yer darn holes, Amy? Yer ruinin' our stealthy approach," he kids.

The black fox [Tundutwaa] emerges from behind the statue, holding a stick held outright with a rock dangled from a cord at the end of it... Tundu holds it up to the sky and tosses it away, "You're late. Were you held up by the locals? Hmhmhmhm..." He leans out from the end of the statue, almost tipping it, and legs are seen swinging out from the center of its gravity. Hare legs. He lets go and the statue uprights.

The wildcat turns awkwardly at the mention of the horse, and looks stunned at the silent arrival of his friend, "Darkmane, good of ya to show up finally, " He grins, then replying to the lizard, "So sorry, I'll try to hobble quieter, " He grins. He blinks at the sudden arrival of the fox now, gripping tightly to his staff as if reading himself to use it as a weapon.

Darkmane smirks and dips his head to the rest "I've been nearby, I've just been out and doing my own searches and keeping some trouble away from the rest of ya." His brows furrowing deeply as the fox appears and turns his focus fully on the newcomer as the smirk turns into a grimace of distaste before shifting into a more neutral expression, the equines eyes tho would be deadly if only they had such a power.

Stubb saunters to a cocky halt to look with a surly lip pulled back at the fox. "Enough a your theatrics, fox. You don' go' no fog ta hoide yore yellow hoide in dis toime. An we picked up anuvver ole friend a yours while we was away." He jabs his thumb back at the horse. "'E's still champing for your bloody head." The weasel pulls out his dirk. "Dangeon!" he calls. "We're comin' for ya! Hang on!" He lets his pack slide off his back to the ground.

Angus plants his good hand on his hip. With a casual turn of his head, the lizard throws a pointedly nonchalant glance at Tundutwaa, and then immediately bounces it to Stubb. "Aw--I think it's jealous of our bountiful breakfast, mate," he muses, disguising his unease. "Ye' didn't get the invite, ole' cloak and dagger? Figured yer ears would be ringin', but I 'spose all that nappy fluff gets in th' way." His bottom lip juts in a frown of feigned despair, as the weasel readies his blade. "What ever shall we do, mates? Looks like th' dog has us by our--" He stops, as if abruptly reminded of something. "Oh, right. I almost forgot about the army of nut-chuckers perched above our fragile fivesome." The lizard cranes back. "Lads! Oh, delightfully rife limb-lurkers, cast down yer stones--that ye' might splinter this dog-beast's delicate bones!"

"Ah ah ah...." The fox grunts with minor exertion as he rotates the statue on its base, and Dangeon herself comes into view. It's a simple contraption - a noose is about her neck, tied at the other end to the protruding head of the statue, quite a big longer than the ropes that are now carrying her weight - thicker too, as they strain to hold her upright by themselves. They're tied beneath her arms, and her arms bound together behind her. "I can cut these ropes, but it might take me a while... howefer, if I slice her bonds, there is nothing stopping her arms slipping through..." The fox smiles, "You'll recognise that I'f been gracious enough to ensure another rope breaks her fall, hehehehe!" Indeed... the noose even seems eager to take on the weight the other pitiful bonds are straining at...

"Dangeon, lass!" Amos hisses, "You scoundral, and I guess you have some sort of plan to save you precious neck?" Still clutching tightly to his staff, but having no other weapon, "Ya got nowhere to go now."

Darkmane actually can't help but lift his hands to rub his forehead and shake his head at what he sees. "Why can't I ever meet a kidnapper with a ounce of common sense." His attention remaining on the fox. "You are aware that Dangeon is the one and ONLY thing keeping you alive right?" His knuckles cracking slightly as he applies pressure first on one then the other hand. "The moment you do something 'fatal' toward her you would have signed your own death warrant so please do us the courtesy of not making foolish threats."

Angus scratches at his temple, contemplating their captive cohort's predicament. The finger slips to the outer edge of his eye, claw yanking at thick flesh, then descends to an anxious itch on his chin. "Well now, that is quite a rig ye' got there--lots a time on yer paws, eh, ye' lil' hellhound?" He counterbalances himself against the bulk of his tail, as if leaning on an invisible tree, and watches the others. The equine reunion is a pleasant surprise; the dragon is fully prepared to let Darkmane do the dirty work. "Oi, mate. Let's see that famous war prance of yers," he hollers to the horse.

Stubb looks blankly at the mess of ropes. "So, eh." He scratches his head. "So wha' happens if... Hmm. S'no' loike she'll doi roigh' away, is i'?" He turns to Angus and Amos. "Oi've watched moi share a hangin's down boi the Halyard Docks. They kick abou' for a roigh' good whoile 'fore deaf gets 'em." He looks at Darkmane. "Oi fink dese foxes mus' be very bored, inven'in' all manner a news ways ta keep demselves busied."

"No, nowhere to go, true... I'm trapped. But the squirrels won't do anything, and it's not what I haf to fight with, but what I haf to say..." He just looks at Darkmane for a moment. Then, he steps down and pulls off his hood again, averting his gaze toward the weasel, "Stubb, friend... was it not I who distracted Angus from his wrath against you? My timing was perfect... because I knew there would be some point where the matter of a certain egg would arise. And the egg-child that is safe from the king, ironically in..." He leans in, chuckling, "His own sons' paws." He looks at Angus, "Hah.. please! You all do me injustice. I am your humble servant, on your side... do you simply wish to kill me? Think! I saved your poor, pitiful Dangeon, you fools! Saved her from her slavery, and the thanks I am getting is equally pitiful! You have every reason to /thank/ your dear Anba Hor." He narrows his eyes.

"Ya ain't no beasts friend, and nobody wants to hear your words, " Amos hobbles forward, "Ya threaten our friend, and want us to thank you... stow your bloody words and give back Dangeon."

"It's a wonder they find th' time to discharge all that piss 'n vinegar," Angus pipes, cocking a smirk at the weasel. "Ye' do realize that we ain't bowin' to yer mind games, right, mate?" he then tells Tundutwaa. "Our skulls are quite thickish. How th' heck else ye' think we got this far?" Tapping his head with a fist, the dragon lifts his frame in a broad shrug. "We also aren't exactly renowned fer our etiquette, so excuse th' ingratitude, sir Hor." As the wildcat advances, Angus curls his lip. "Watch it, Amy. Resilient as we know yer noggin t' be, I wouldn't go stickin' it in the line of fire just yet." He buys time with his banter, as he inwardly beseeches the toad gods for some miraculous diversion. "By th' way, sovereign urinator of th' forest, what came of your abbey campaign? Didn't think we'd be so worth followin', what with your kingship and all."

Striving for stealth while insufferably slovenly, Scaith strides straight toward the speaking Tundutwaa from seemingly thin air; the mustelid musters all of her vigor to bombard the vulpine with every ounce of drunken rage in her bones, sword and dagger lying in wait within her paws. "Ye... ye're th' one!" she rumbles, quite mistakenly, eyes too narrow to recognize him as stranger. "Th' one 'oose blood will cover th' groun' like spilt wine!" She readies her stance and growls, "Blood f'r wine!"

"Whoi bovver askin' 'im anyfin', ma'e. You know 'e'll jes' answer wif more riddles an moind games," Stubb says. "Oi don' know whoi any friend a ours 'as got ta go round trickin' us an talkin' nonsense and gen'rally troi-in' ta make loike we're a bunch a fick-headed good-for-naughts. --" The weasel watches bemusedly as Scaith stumbles into the clearing. "Heh. Looks loike we've stumbled on anuvver major paf frough ta forest. Whoi all the action got ta follow us everywhere we go?"

"I intend to, cat. To simply hand her over to you. But we have a slight problem. You see... the squirrel. The one you let guide you here - is King Nidlorf. I wouldn't let him have Mayeul but now it seems you've handed over Frigg to him. Correct? Now he'll have a base with which to ensure that vermin all across the north are wiped out." He looks to Angus, staring impassively until he finishes, "No, you weren't. Neither is kingship worth my time. Which is why I never stepped foot inside the abbey after my rescue from imprisonment. That was our dear friend Nidlorf's stand in, who carried out his purpose, as I hear... to kill my employer, and the mouse that wounded the king." He blinks at Scaith, his dagger nearer to Dangeon's bonds. "I will take somebeast out with me..."

Stubb mutters to himself. "Nidlorf. Bloody 'ell..."

Heeding Angus' advice the wildcat stops from further advances, watches the martens approach and raises a paw as the fox readies his dagger, "Now now, don't pay mind to her, " Referring to Scaith, "We ain't going to do what'cha want, at least as long as ya threaten to kill our friend."

Angus mouths a quiet thanks to the toads above. His slackens in wild amusement at the marten, and he wolf-whistles--at least his best reptilian attempt--at her. "Hello there, lass! Fancy that, yer magical ways with th' world won ye' another pickle, sir Hor." Eyes alight, the lizard bounces buoyantly on his tail. "Stubbster, ye' promise Dangle will safely dangle fer a few ticks, right? I say we let him cut it, and leave th' fox to the lady."

Stubb blinks at Angus. "Din' you hear da fox? Dat squirrel... Oi knew dere was somefin' off about 'im. 'Gus, if tha bastard is roigh', tha squirrel we was followin'... He has your boy." Stubb squints up at the fox. "Prove it. Prove it's Nidlorf out dere. An drop tha blade if you want us ta trust you."

Scaith's well-oiled judgment brings sword and dagger upward, tips pointed at Tundutwaa as she speaks, "So, y'wish tah 'pologize, or should I jus' slit y'r belly?" She disregards the others, focus aimed solely upon the tod who she's obviously confused with some other fox. "Look at me!"

Tundutwaa lowers his dagger and backs away from the group, "I've said, the squirrel no longer has the lizard-daughter. It must make you very upset, though, when I tell you that the squirrels raised her... taught her her first words... and the king, almost assuredly, embedded his perfect image in her." He looks at Scaith, "Madame, who the hell are /you/?"

Amos hisses, "Slit his belly marten, do us all a bit of good."

Angus rocks to the soles of his feet, knitting his brows. He positions himself beside Stubb. "Ye' think, mate?" he grunts, his voice a bit hoarse with disbelief. The lizard bobs his head skeptically as Tundutwaa speaks, while palming his chin in consideration. "Perhaps we should snag this all-knowin' mongrel, cut off his limbs, and cart the mouthy stump around in a rucksack until we find m' boy."

Amos grins, "That works too."

Scaith faces twists sourly at the fox. "Jus' as well, den!" she snorts. She turns briefly to the lizard, weasel, and cat to shout, "S'no way t'treat a lady!" And then thrusts furiously at Tundutwaa.

The fox hisses, circles around the statue, letting Scaith stab at the air, "/Lass/. She's a she, at least from the way she was treated by the squirrels. Haha... your boy looked pretty in the dress they made for him, if you're right." Tundu chuckles, and holds up a paw, "Excuse my levity... we have a common enemy; I have what I need to take out the king, but he also has you to kill me. And you have what /I/ need to kill him."

Stubb sighs and whispers to Angus and Amos, "Look. Oi don' loike 'im any more dan you do. Oi say we get out a him as much as we can." He points over his shoulder. "An 'e did as oi asked, pulled his dagger away from da rope. It ain' much, bu' it's somefin." He glances at Scaith. "Oi fink we should hold her off... least till we've go' wha' we need. Don' help matters to 'ave her swingin' dat fing abou', any way you fink."

Angus twists his heel in the dirty snow. "Or daughter," he admits with a shrug. "Though I figured it was a bit balmy for a little lass." Ultimately, it is clear that the lizard cares not about the gender of his offspring. "All apologies, madame," is his call to Scaith. "Do your good work; don't mind this slack-jawed lot of spectators." In response to Stubb, the dragon simply states: "No pacts with th' enemy, mate. No mercy. It ain't worth th' risk. If we be needin' information, we can get our mitts on one of th' branch brigade."

Amos grunts and shifts his glaze to the weasel, "He keeps flying with the insults of Angus' son, and who knows what else he's done to Dangeon before she ended up like that!" He shakes his head, "Aye, no quarter and no listening to this useless dog any longer!"

Scaith continues to pursue Tundutwaa around the statue, blades whirling in the air and attempting to meet with his flesh. She flits about like a moth at a flame. "Hi-yah!" she shouts. "Hi-yah, hi-yarrgh!"

Tundutwaa scowls at the lot of them, slipping behind the statue and slicing at Dangeon's bonds, and shoving the statue over towards them, jumping into the gaping hole left by the upturned base...

Angus blinks as the statue plummets and the fox vanishes. "That was .. er," deciding this is no time for words, the lizard trots quickly to the fallen effigy. "Dangles, lass--oi," the lizard sputters, tearing at the remaining rope.

Scaith is momentarily stunned by the sudden shifting of stone, and clambers to ascertain the current quandary. "E's... e's gettin' away!" Her doubtfulness is near absent, and brew-filled belly encourages her to follow immediately. "Ge' back 'ere, ye artless, onion-eyed codpiece!" But she trips on broken rock and falls gracelessly to the ground.

Stubb follows swiftly behind Angus. "Don' sit dere complainin, ya worfless drunk!" the weasel shouts at Scaith. "Follow tha smelly dog!" He does his best to assist the monitor in extracting Dangeon from beneath the fallen statue.

"Be at yer heels in a tick, love," Angus ensures Scaith, feverishly gnawing on the thick rope that still binds Dangeon--by her throat--to the stone. "Y'got this, mate? Imma' go after him."

Angus crouches lower, trying to determine whether the unconscious hare is pinned by the stone. "Is it on her? I can probably shove it to th' side--she don't look crushed or nothin'." He pants, panicked at the prospect of losing the fox.

Scaith rights herself somewhat, more horizontal than vertical as she dives after the fox; her blades travel first through the hole, and body tucks in after. "Ye' weedy lil' scut!" comes her echo.

Stubb seems belatedly to remember the dagger in his paw. "Ay, oi'll get 'er out. Darkmane! Darkmane, ya... ya bloody..." He shakes his head. "Go!" he snaps at Angus. "Whoi are you still here? Go!"

Amos limps over to the others, standing around useless, "Give him hell marten!" The cat calls after her, looking to Angus, "Ya get that rotten dog for me!"

Angus thumps his good fist against the stone and bobs a dutiful nod to his friend. "Right right, mate." With that, the lizard is on all threes, scraping with his claws to widen the hole for his entrance.

Amos yowls, "For Dangeon!"

Stubb looks around for the horse. "Amos, where'd tha damn horse get to? He'd 'ave dis stone up in a jiff..."

Amos shakes his head, "Can't say that I know, " He mutters.

Stubb frantically drops to his paws to permit himself a clearer view of the trapped hare. "Ay, good. She's still breavin', da poor lass..." He slices the remaining tendrils of rope that bind Dangeon to the stone, and her head falls limp to the ground.

Angus kicks up a slurry of sludge and wet debris with his burrowing, head and shoulders now lodged in the mouth of the burrow. "Love, ye' all right?" he hollers, eyes steadily adjusting to the unlit tunnel.

The thunderous din of hoofbeats tears across the clearing as Darkmane reappears, investing all the power in his being into the project of liberating his love. "Out of my way!"

Stubb looks up with barely enough time to dart away from the charging horse's path. "Watch i'! She ain' goin' anywh--" He drops to the ground and rolls, wincing as a little kiss of blood appears on his previously pristine bandages. He reaches out to grab Amos' leg. "He ain' stoppin' for any of us, ca'!"

Where there a statue once precariously half-stood, a giant lizard rump now rises. Angus has nearly achieved entry, as his lashing tail and failing legs suggest. The horse, in its passionate stampede, vaults over the wriggling lizard. The rush of cold air and the thunderous vibrations only fuel Angus' fury.

Amos yowls and trying to move out of the way but too slowly Darkmane bumps into him and with the weasel's tugging he loses his balance and his stick as he falls to the ground, "Ugh, damn bloody horse.. ain't'cha got no sense, she's safe now!"

The horse's ebony flanks are insensate to any complaints, feline or otherwise, so trained are they on their purpose. Moments later, his muscled shoulder hammers into the fallen stone, casting it aside with an ease that belies its weight, managing even to propel it just a bit into the air.

Angus's trashing gradually abates. There is a lash to the left, then his tail jerks to the right. Bare toes flex in the night air, joints cracking in visible frustration. "Mates?" comes a muffled shout. "I--I think I .. I'm a bit stuck here." The giant rear flops to one side, as abdominal muscles can no longer bear to keep it upright.

Stubb claps a consolatory paw on Amos' back. "'E don' mean no 'arm. Course, dat's easy enough for me to say, oi sappose." He watches the shallow arc of the statue and the subsequent wave of mingled dirt and snow that it throws up before it as it lands some distance away. "Hell haf no fury loike a horsey scorned, an all da'." As the weasel rises, he offers a paw to the fallen cat.

Amos scowls, grumbling despite the pat, "I suppose so, feller acts like he's the only one that cares for her, " He grabs his staff, moving back to his footpaws.

Stubb hehs, "True enough. Guess 'e blames 'imself 'bout 'er kidnappin' or somefin." He shrugs, then gestures in the direction of the protruding lizard rump. "Fink we shou'd 'elp da fat bloighter? Oi koinda loike seein' 'im make an arse a himse'f."

Scaith has apparently tried to find her way about in the dark hole, but the fox's figure has yet to be illuminated and any light from the moon is now obscured by Angus's hulking behind. "Oi," she calls out, catching glints of the lizard's teeth and eyes. "What d'ye think y'r doin'? Ge' in or ge' out, mate!"

Amos snorts at the sight of Angus, smirking, "Don't worry Angus, we'll save ya!" he grins at Stubb and starts hobbling over toward the lizard.

Angus gleans muted bits of the conversation above, but his feet can only impotently flex in response. Quirking his head in the direction of the marten voice, the dragon blithely says, "You're quite th' charmer, love," as the glimmer of teeth broadens. "Sparky lil' love. What say you give ole' Angus a tug, yeah? I'm a bit, uh, hung up."

From deep inside the tunnel, the fox's voice is heard... but it could be right below them or some kind of tunnel that opens up into the shaft. There are several on the way down... "Hahahahahahahaha...."

Stubb, hearing the distant voice of the fox, also laughs. "Hahahahaha! Er... oi wonder wha's so funny." He reaches Angus' tail and grabs hold of it. "A' roigh'. Gonna give you a good push. 'Ere goes!"

Stubb throws all of his weight into his charge. His legs lift into the air somewhat as his entire frame bears down on his stymied friend.

Simultaneously, Scaith has stepped toward Angus in an attempt to pull him toward her.

Amos also grabs hold, moving to throw his shoulder against the lizard as he pushes, "Argh, move ya lizard breath!"

"Push 'arder, ya lazy housecat!" Stubb clambers on top of the tail and starts jumping up and down on it.

Scaith's blades have been tossed to the ground behind her and in front of Angus as she tugs vivacious at his head.

Angus squirms as the sweaty palms grasp at his tail, and braces himself for the impending impact. He barks in surprise as his bulk dislodges, plunging into the chamber below. Lucky lizard, his fall is broken by something wondrously mammalian and soft, and the elated mountain of scales snags Scaith in a one-armed embrace. "My hero!" he chimes, planting a slobbery smooch on her cheek.

Scaith, startled by the sudden plunge into the hole, forms a tight hold onto Angus's hard body. "...wwuuuhh-AHHH!" she squeals, poked by a sword.

Amos pushes harder at Stubbs urging, tossing his walking stick and almost going flying himself as the lizard slips from his grasp and moves into the hole.

Stubb's paws lose their purchase as the saurian mound slips into the depths of the tunnel. His paws fly out in a frantic flurry as he grasps for anything solid enough to steady his fall. His head hammers into the mercifully shock-absorbing lip of the hole, then he tumbles like a ragdoll onto Angus' back.

Angus detaches his mouth from the hirsute cheek to cast a cautious glance around. "Toads in heaven, there's a veritable arsenal down here." In the moonlight cast by the gaping hole, several weapons and devices can be spied littering the chamber. "Must've been where cagey ole' dog-breath was storing Dangles and .." He shrieks as Stubb gracelessly smashes his way in.

"C'mon, kitteh! Join us," Angus sobs in sandwiched anguish.

Amos slips as he moves to get up and lands on the weasel.

Scaith struggles to free herself from beneath the pile, but manages only to gyrate hopelessly against Angus's cold, scaley chest.

Scaith exclaims, "My dignity!"

Stubb hurries to his paws with a spit of disgust, but he's knocked down immediately by the descending cat. "Oy! Moind where ya pu' your paws, pussyca'." He pounds a fist into Angus for good measure. "An you! We can' see nuffin. Wha's 'e go' done dere? Move your behoin'.""

Angus removes his arm from Scaith, employing the freed hand to heft his bulk away from the dirt floor of the diminutive natural cavern. "Ach, my innards!" he wails after Stubb's punch. The weasel and wildcat are ejected with an unceremonious jerk, and he gazes down at the gasping, wriggling marten. "'Spose this makes ye' one of us. I'm Angus, love."

Amos pulls his paws away from the weasel, only to go flying at Angus' jerk.

The marten smiles feebly upward, likewise pushing away from the ground. "Scaith," she says to the behemoth. "Pleasure t'be in y'r arms this fine night."