Here there be otters...

Listlessly swaying through the aid of a soothing breeze, towering reeds cast over in an elagent archway over the path. The sunlight peeks through every once in a while, casting the promient shadows of thin blade tips of the reeds to the buldging cattails. The curve of the pathway divides here, one end showing the faint but dominating main grounds while the other shows the quaint side grounds. Either way leads to waterbeast civilization, the only decision is that of which to move to. The source of the relieving breeze is noticeably coming from the smaller grounds, wafting out from the gently lapping waves that can only be seen by the glint of the light upon it. Towering above even the reeds, though easily mistaken as one, can be seen a mast of a vast sea-going vessal over half of the season. Rarely is the craft set out into the waters only upon distress emitted from neighboring lands. At the end of those times, grumbling otters can be felt through the earth below footpaws, all headed over to the tavern.

It had been a relatively productive day for Flynn; upon arriving at Camp Willow the previous day, he was immediately put to work helping to put the place back together, and work he most definitely did. He had spent most of his time helping to carry logs into the camp for rebuilding purposes, and also lending a paw with putting them where they needed to go. He had also helped with gathering food and helping with dinnertime, and so currently, the unusually light-furred otter spends his time taking a quick break just outside the main part of the camp. He sits on the ground, having removed the flute from his satchel, and he tweets out a random, general tune, the otter in quite a good mood as it seems like he had finally found a place where he could be useful.

Alas, just the problem Liask was having. A place where he could actually be useful...when he didn't want to be. The young otter too was immediately put to work in rebuilding the village. He was passed around a lot from job to job but for entirely different reasons. Footpaws on the path can be heard and soon Liask comes into view. He's a rather scruffy otter in scraggly clothes and still carrying some weight from his time in Redwall. The sleek beast walks right past Flynn without noticing him. He seems to be carrying an empty fishing pole over one shoulder.

Flynn seems to notice Liask however, and the otter lowers the flute, lifting a paw in greeting to him. "Afternoon, mate!" he replies, voice steady yet holding a rather cheery tone. He eyes the empty fishing rod the other carries, and a grin crosses his muzzle as he nods towards it. "Fishin' a bit light today I see?" he chides, playfully. "Ah, don't worry, some days 't seems th' fishies 'r smarter n'other days, I dunno..." Flynn winks, as he shifts a bit where he sits.

The other otter pauses in mid stride. He turns quickly, leveling the empty fishing rod at Flynn's nose like a spear. "Who goes ...oh." Cheeks red with embarrassment Liask removes his valiant weapon from Flynn's pressence, "Sorry." He says simply. "Can't be too careful these days." With even more embarrassment the otter sets his pole into the earth and laughs, "This? Oh I was actually just about to head off to the river...you know. Get some break time in from a long...uh...long busy day of hammering and working and...stuff." The otter doesn't look like he has worked up a sweat, not like the other otters back in the village. His paws don't even look dirty. "What...what are you doing out here?"

Flynn doesn't flinch as Liask suddenly turns and points the fishing rod at his face; the grin remains upon the young otter's muzzle as he stares at it. "Aye, if'n you weren't careful, y'might 'ave casted me t'death. Woulda been an absolute tragedy...terribl'. I woulda had t'ask ya t'send a letter back home to th'parents n'all that, an' I'm sure ya wouldn'tve wanted t'go through all that trouble...." he chuckles. As the other otter informs him of his current plans, Flynn gives him a nod, "Ah, I see. I c'n totally unnerstand that, I been workin' me tail off since I got 'ere yesserday. But..." he shrugs. "S'all fer th'good o'the holt, th'sooner we c'n get it back t'gether the better it'll be fer all o'us, aye?" To the question posed to him, Flynn holds his paws out to both sides. "Sittin'. An' twiddlin' a bit on me flute, 'aven't practiced inna while, y'see."

The otter gets a good laugh out of Flynn's tale. "I have a feeling your parents wouldn't be too heartbroken, mate." Then at the mention of the good of the holt Liask's eyes drift off and to the side. Rubbing the back of his neck he says quietly, "The good of most sure." Finally he shrugs, gesturing for Flynn to follow. "Sounds like you could use a break. You're welcome to come...long as your terrible taste in flute music doesn't scare off the fish." He says with a wide grin. Little does he know that this scene is being watched and not by otters...

Flynn gives a mock gasp as he pushes himself back up to his footpaws. He rests his paws on his hips, acting comically offended. "Well now! That comment wuz completely unnecessary an' downright rude! Y'need t'brush up on yer flute knowledge, mate, cuz obviously ya got mud in yer ears. There ain't been any finer flute playin' in these parts ever since...well...prolly a long time ago!" His fake look of offense melts back into a friendly grin again as he moves to join the other otter. "Aye, sounds good. Though we prolly don't wanna be gone TOO long, they'll come lookin' fer us aroun' dinnertime when they need all th'fish in th'river gutted er somethin'..." he jokes.

"What makes you think there will be any fish left for them to eat?" The otter says with a smile. It's hard to tell if he is serious or not. The otter steps off the road and down a narrow foot path leading presumably to the river. The weather today is just fine for fishing. Sunny, warm, with a slight breeze flowing through the trees. Leaves can be heard rustling about them. Chalking it up to the wind, Liask continues talking. "Are you from around here friend? I don't reconize you." Says the otter. Behind them a blurry shadow move between the cover of trees.

It's nice to actually be able to have somewhat of a conversation after so long of basically traveling by himself, and it seems to show on Flynn's face as he begins to follow Liask. "Only if I get to th'river first, mate. Ya ain't seein' a fisher-otter like me in all yer days, I guarantee it, or me name ain't Flynn Stormwynde." He pauses. "And it is." Grin. "An' nope, I'm from nowhere n'everywhere, I wuz a traveler inna circus fer a lot o'me life, so I can't bally recall where exactly I'm from, heh. So I'll jus' tell ya 'Mossflower'." At this point, Flynn hears the rustling of the leaves, and suspicions are slightly raised. He pauses, reaching a paw out to hold Liask back from moving forward, his eyes showing concern. "'Old it a sec, mate. Think I 'ear somethin'..." The otter's eyes begin to slowly sweep the area near them, searching for any signs of movement, his body beginning to tense slightly.

The otter's comanion raises an eyebrow at Flynn. He turns to face him, one paw on his hip, the other holding the the pole over his shoulder. "Ain't you a bundle of nerves. I swear you would think you saw a snake out here. Don't worry, there ain't a beast alive out here save for us."

"That'sss not quite true luv."

Liask turns quickly in fright but not quick enough to save himself. The lizard seems to simply materialize from the woods. She looks tribal in nature wearing only a bead vest and loin cloth. It's the spear she levels at the otter's chin that has Liask most concerned. "I know what you mussst be thinking." She says to Flynn, "Can you call for help before ssshe stabsss your merry ol friend in the face. Care to try?" The lizard hisses. Around her a pair of weasel appear from the forest. They are dressed in more civilian styled clothing. That is, ratty sack cloth garments, and carrying sabers.

Flynn's demeanor doesn't seem to change much as the vermin materialize from the woods. In a way, he was expecting it, and so as the female lizard points her spear at Liask, the otter gives her a dark smirk. "Akshully, I was more thinkin' about catchin' fish an' goin' about me business in th'camp. Nice try, though. Glad yer not onea those fortune tellers who wander' roun' th'forest, cuz frankly ye'd be terrible at it, miss." Flynn cannot help but laugh at her assumption that he would call for help, and he eyes the two companions who emerge from the woods next to the lizard. He sighs heavily. "Callin' fer 'elp?" He waves a paw dismissively in the air. "Ah, there ya go, makin' assumptions again. Y'know wut they say when ya assume, aye?" The otter grins smugly at the lizard.

The lizard smiles pleasantly back to the otter. They are all full of smiles today, aren't they? "Well I asasume your friend doess not want to have a spear run through his gutsss today."

Said otter steps backward as the lizard forces him closer to Flynn with her spear. "Yes, I would very much like to not have a spear run through my guts..." As he talks another pair of vermin beasts appear from the woodland around them. A one eyed ferret in a wide brimmed hat smiles at them. "It looks like you lot went out fishing and caught vermin instead!" The gang laughs at the joke but mostly because their pay checks depend on it. Stepping around the ferret is a red furred fox dressed in a leather curass. He pauses at the sight of them and blinks. "Oi! Flynn! Remember me? I'm roooobiiiiing yooouuuuu!" The fox waves as he chimes in happily.

It is an unspoken rule that wherever trouble seeps through the muck of their recovering home, that Trayse will not follow far behind. The guard, begrudgingly thrust into his position of responsibility, trudges towards the Camp from the forest. His feet follow a familiar path, crunching the un-trampled grass down as he goes, scowling at the remnants of fire and fighting that still linger among the reeds surrounding Camp Willow - but his path ends abruptly at the sound of voices. With a soft hiss, his sword is slid free of the scabbard and the scarred otter huffs beneath his breath as he crouches down and continues forward, approaching the group from the side. A lizard, a ferret, an annoying fox - his eyes narrow, still in silence. Fools.

Flynn takes a step back, carefully keeping his eyes trained on the lizard as he speaks. "Well, first off, from th'position ya 'ave th'spear, it'd go through his face, n'not 'is guts, so at least be accurate when yer describin' what yer plannin' on doin'." The otter turns his eyes to Liask and gives him a 'don't worry, I got this handled' look, before turning attention back to the vermin. He sighs heavily, shaking his head morosely. "Aye, looks loik we did, mate. But I got a question fer ya...if we caught ya, can we throw ya back?" A familiar voice catches his ears, and he finds himself staring back at a familiar fox face. As Rut speaks, Flynn's expression quickly changes to 'you've GOT to be kidding me', and a paw goes up to basically facepalm himself. "...oh for the love of..." he mutters to Rut, his eyes closed in annoyance. "You again? Yer like a...fuzzy cockroach er somethin'!"

Rut crosses his arms, closing his eyes and sticking his tongue out at the otter, "Now that ain't noice." The fox looks, different. He looks sleeker, better fed and yet, still rather scruffy looking. "Quiet, before I cut ye tongue out...both of yer tongues." The ferret says to Rut as well as the otter. "Now that really ain't noice..." is all the fox whimpers as the ferret steps forward. The weasels step closer as well. "Now..." says the ferret, "I have a job opening for one beast. Keep in mind it's for only one beast. The first beast to tell me how many guards and where they are stationed along the camp gets to be a hostage." The fat otter tilts his head to one side. "I'm sorry, but, isn't that somehting you threaten people with if they DON'T talk?"

"The one who doesn't talk get'sss to be apparel." The lizard chuckles, she sets the spear but down on the ground, leaning into it. "Don't take it persssonal luv but I'm kinda hoping your friend speaks up. You have more hide to make into a belt."

"I see..." Liask rubs his chin, "Well, you make a compelling argument. That leaves me with only one thing to say." In retrospect shouting 'go fish' before swinging his fishing pole over his head sounded a lot cooler and more dramatic in his head than in real life. The hook snagging the ferret in his open mouth however was priceless. "GRK!" the ferrets one eye goes wide as he is forced to follow the hook, sending him stumbling into the lizard. "Run Flynn! Run!" In retrospect, this was a really...really...REAAAAAAAAAAAAALLY dumb idea...

There is a soft rustling from the reeds as Trayse bursts out of them, but this is mostly masked by the sudden chaos inspired by a swinging fishing pole and a horrible line (get it? Line?). The otter is a hard-packed killing machine wearing a dead fox as a cape - he isn't what most vermin look forward to springing out of the bushes. But he doesn't attack - this isn't his fight, he didn't wake up feeling like killing anyone today: he's just the muscle. He scowls, he growls, he squints: he looks scary, alright? "You'll back down an' put y'weapons in th'bloody mud, yeah?" The otter snarls, advancing slowly on the group with his sword outstretched - aggravatingly calm and still now that the yelling has started.

Flynn continues to stand there with his forehead resting on a paw, his head shaking slowly. It's almost as if he was back in his circus days, in the midst of one of his shows. There were most definitely plenty of clowns here, that's for sure. To Rut, Flynn gestures off to the side, "My advice t'you is t'stand right ovah there, mate, so y'don't get yerself 'urt this time, cuz yer in WAY over yer 'ead. Trus' me." To the ferret, he implores, "Since ya brought it up, could ya PLEASE cut out 'is tongue?" he motions his head towards Rut. "It'd be doin' yerself a favor too, believe me." Flynn is beginning to tense up a bit more in preparation to fight, the slim otter's paws clenching and unclenching as he regards the lizard. "Y'wouldn't look good in otter pelts anyways, ya bloody lizard, ya got no sense o'fashion, I swear." As Liask suddenly swings the fishing pole and fires off his line, Flynn smirks to him. "...please, y'can fight mate, but just...don't...with th'words n'such...." Suddenly out of nowhere, Trayse

makes his quite loud and boisterous appearance, though Flynn merely takes it all in stride as he gestures to the new face. "Well wouldja lookit that? Methinks th'odds are evenin' up a bit now, aye?"

A lot of things happen at once. The scene seems to pause as a crazy looking otter wearing fox skin bursts out of the woods. Even the ferret stands there, hook in mouth, blinking at the new arrival. "'et 'hem!" he shouts. Shoving her boss off of her the lizard hisses at Liask, swinging her spear like a club for his head. The otter yelps and ducks, letting the spear sail over him and towards Flynn...

The weasel both exchange nervous glances with each other. Then, shouting warcries to gather their courage they charge the monsterous fox wearing otter with their sabers.

Rut...just takes a step off to the side of the road to...evaluate the situation from afar. Yeah, that's it...

Well, if they insist on a fight... Trayse swings his sword with a snarl, pulling his body in low and tight to sweep alongside the rightmost weasel. Two against one is always fun, but he doubts these road-bandits have much discipline or teamwork; picking them off one at a time is going to be cleaner for everyone. Their type have a tendency to fall apart and retreat once the see their own blood in the water; it would mean less killing all around."You new, Blondie?" He grumps conversationally towards Flynn as he slashes at his allotted vermin, pivoting and stepping forward to crowd the weasel's defenses, the otter slams his elbow up at his foe's nose with a harsh exhale.

Flynn makes a quick dodge to the side to avoid the incoming spear that was meant for Liask, and he reaches out to attempt to grab the spear as it goes past. If successful, he tosses it back at the lizard though with the blunt end first. "Aye, I am..." he responds to Trayse. "Jus' arrived yesserday as a matter o'fact! An' it seems I got 'ere jus' in time fer a nice greetin' party! You guys didn't hire these uns jus' fer little ol' me, didja?" he asks with a grin upon his muzzle, as he takes a running leap at one of the beasts attacking Trayse in an attempt to tackle him to the ground.

The weasel manages to block the blade with his own only to reel backward from the otters blow as it breaks his snout. The lizard lets out a yelp as Flynn catches the spear from her paws and tosses it back at her. She collapses clutching her belly. She gives Flynn a deadly hiss before getting back to her feet to pounce on the otter like a velociraptor, trying to tackle him as he tackles the remaining weasel to the ground. "Rut you fool! Get in there and...IEEEEE!" The ferret leader shreiks as Liask pulls back and forth on the fishing pole. Tears stream down his one good eye. "I got this one!" Liask shouts.

The fox however sighs. "Looks like I'm earning my money after all..." He steps into the battle field. Clutching an ax in one paw and a wooden buckler in the other. He looks the monsterous otter up and down, "Is that...fox skin?" He blinks in surprise. "Huh, all this time I've heard beasts threaten otters with the promise of turning them into hide garments...kind of makes you think, right?" Rut shrugs before launching himself at the warrior otter.

"Yeah, wish we could get our money back now." Trayse flashes a savage grin with the jibe, not taking his eyes from his task. As the weasel reels back he kicks a leg out at him for good measure, the grin sliding off his face as his attention returns to combat. The attack coming at him from behind is met with a clash of steel, his sword brought up to defend against the fox's blow, and that leg strikes back out for another kick. "Took it from a fox tougher'n you. That make y'think?" His words are labored around the strain of holding a block up, and he shoves forward to break the contact, intending to stagger his opponent, before barrelling forward with a shout. His eyes and ears flick forward and back, taking stock: Liask with his... Interesting style of attack, which will definitely earn a drink at the end of all this, the lizard going after the new otter, the weasels - he's seen worse, but it certainly isn't ideal.

Flynn managed to knock the breath from the weasel he had tackled, and he stands up with a satisfied smirk, "We gotta find out if they accept refunds first though, mate...no use wastin' our ti-AAYYY!" Suddenly, the lizard latches herself onto his back as she leaps at him. "GAHHH! Wot th'....gerroffameee ya walkin' travel bag!!!" Flynn twists this way and that, in an attempt to fling the lizard off of his back. If that isn't wholly successful, the otter propels himself backwards towards the nearest tree, aiming to slam the lizard into it. "An' yeah," he yells over towards Trayse, "That un's not as tough as he looks! Well...e doesn't really LOOK tough anyways, so...let's just say he's a complete waste o'yer time!"

The fox takes the kick with his shield. He stills steps backwards, almost with a drunken stagger, "Well...it does now!" He replies to Trayse. He yelps leaping haphazardly to the side and spinning as he tries to bash the otter in the back of the head with his shield. "I don't suppose I can get sum help wid dis one eh?"

The fox's call for help goes unanswered as the lizard is slammed against a tree. She squeaks before falling limp against the forest floor. One weasel is trying desperately to get back up while the other is rolling on the ground clutching a broken snout. The ferret is...well, still being reeled in by Liask who is frankly enjoying the prospect of humiliating a bandit leader so. "I guess we can always just throw them back." He says before hitting the ferret upside the head with the pole. He sighs when that fails to knock him out. "Some beasts just don't appreciate the timing of a good pun." He hits him again to make sure it sticks this time. The fox finds himself very alone very fast. "Uh...is it...too late to parlay yet?" He asks with a weak smile.

Trayse is a machine - drilled to his own ridiculous standards, tempered by loss, and thrust into leadership. He ducks, spinning with his own inertia as the fox's shield whispers past his head and he lashes at the fox's middle with the pommel of his sword. Straightening, he raises his paws to attack - but then retracts them with a sharp leap backwards. "Surrender?" He asks, his voice low and dangerous. "Throw down y'weapons. Lay on th'ground." Flynn and Liask both certainly don't appear to need his help, and this draws a small nod from him. Respect, which he doesn't dole out with ease. "If they won't take 'em back, we cin always jus' use 'em for firewood." He growls menacingly, those canines flashing as his lips pull up in a grin.

Flynn pauses a moment to take a glance down at the lizard who had until just a moment ago, been clinging to his back. "Mebbe next time I meetcha, ye'll be hangin' from somebeast's belt. Or will BE th'belt." Flynn smirks. "Yer gonna be made inta a bag is wot I'm tryin' t'say!" He kicks dirt onto the unfortunate lizard, wincing as she seems to have dug her claws into his shoulders while latched on. Tiny rivulets of blood slowly leak down his shoulders and through his tunic, though he pays it no mind. Eh, add it to the list of scars already there. As he sees that Liask is handling himself well, Flynn shoots him a grin, "Nah, if anythin' we c'n cut em up an' use em as bait! Though I dunno, maybe it'll kill all th'fish in th'lake..." Watching as Rut very quickly surrenders, Flynn ambles over towards Trayse, giving him a playful nudge in the ribs as he gestures toward the fox. "See wot I mean?" he grins. "Ya take away 'is backup, 'e's loik I said, a fuzzy cockroach. I ran inta this'un afore a few times in me trave

Gears can be seen making smoke in the fox's mind as he surveys the situation. His entire bandit gang has been waylayed by one warrior and two fisher beasts. Even if they survive this their survival of the next encounter does not bode well. IF they surrender then he will be at the mercy of the otters, one of which is already wearing a fox hide. "Y-yeah! Me and Flynn helped each other out of a bind once! Remember Slade? How I helped ya escape?" He laughs nervously. Setting down his ax he continues to laugh, nervously, "That's right. Just going to drop my weapons and surrender and SHEILD TO YOUR FACE!" He tosses the shield like a frisbee at both otters before turning tail, launching himself into the woods like a crazed maniac, stepping on the lizard as she is just waking up. "W-wha happened? Did we GAH! RUT YOU @#$@%$!"

Trayse is a beast of rigid honor and morals. He takes surrender seriously. "Y'made the right choice an' we'll treat ye wi - GAH!" He barely gets his paw up in time to grab the shield, and it barks painfully against his forearm. "DON'T COME BACK!" He hollers after the retreating fox, his pride wounded more than his arm. Some captain of the guard, outsmarted in such a way... Shame. "Well. /Well/." He huffs, turning to his new comrades and clearing his throat.

Flynn, having dealt with Rut a few times before, seems to see the final move coming...though he is too late to deflect the shield as it is tossed at them. Unfortunately, Trayse seems to absorb the brunt of the thrown shield...though it likely wasn't thrown THAT hard. It -is- Rut we're talking about here. Flynn shakes his head slowly, chuckling as he watches the fox once again flee into the forest like a scolded Dibbun. "Oh, 'e'll show up again one way or another. He jus' allays seems t'enjoy followin' me aroun' fer some reason, mebbe bein' imprisoned t'gether by th'crazy badger made 'im think we're friends er somethin, I suppose. I dunno. How's yer arm?" he asks Trayse, with a grin. Turning to Liask, the otter looks at him for a minute, then bursts into amused laughter. "Hahahaha...didja see th'look on 'is face...when ya snagged 'im like a big ol' trout? Hahahahaha..."

Liask flinches as his fellow otter takes a blow to the arm reguardless of how hard it was thrown. "Y-yeah. Real funny right?" Liask smiles even though he feels butterflies in his gut. He wasn't expecting that to actualy work, let alone so well. It was a sort of 'sacrifice yourself as a distraction to let your freind get away' type thing. And now they were all laughing at it because no one died. "So what are we going to do with them?" He points to the lizard and remaining concious weasel. They both make terrified squeaks as the focus is once again drawn to them. "Let usss go?" The lizard says with a terrified but hopefull toothy smile. Like a shark...smiling to a killer whale. "Becaussse the mercy of Camp Willow is legendary!" She slugs the weasel in the arm.

"Oh! Yeah! Yeah! Legendary! What ever that word means..." The weasel, nervous, continues to speak, "We were just going to steal supplies!"

"No one was going to get hurt!"

"Not unless they had to..." The weasel yelps as the lizard slugs him in the arm. "And...and we were going to let the hostages go" Another slug. "EVENTUALLY!" The lizard slugs him in the jaw this time, sending him falling back against the forrest floor.

"I'm not really with them. I'm jussst a temp. Honest."

Trayse is reluctant to join the laughter. He was sloppy. His lapse of judgment could have cost lives, had the fox been a serious threat... He'll have to train harder, work longer - the stakes are higher, now. What would his father say? The otter shakes his head to himself, forcing a small, tired smile onto his muzzle as he joins the conversation. "Fine, barely gonna bruise more'n m'ego." He looms over their new hostages with a disgusted and unamused expression. They don't have the resources to go holding hostages - and the delicate balance that has resurfaced since the Northbeasts left is one that needs to be upheld. Camp Willow must remain a force to be reckoned with or more will come, thinking they've gone soft. "We'll see wha' the Skip wants with 'em." He finally growls, shrugging wide shoulders. "Perhaps jus' a trial an' a swift execution, if y'lucky." He's joking... Maybe.

Flynn tsks, shaking his head grimly as he stares down at the captives with seriousness in his steely aquamarine eyes. "Hmm. T's a shame, really, ya picked a terrible time t'try an' pilfer stuff from th'camp, mates. If ya think ya've seen h'otters inna bad mood afore..." he chuckles humorlessly..."Ya ain't never seen em when their home's been ransacked an' their lives 'v been uprooted." Aiming a quick glance at Trayse and Liask, the otter looks back to the captives. "Ya wouldnt a foun' much in there anyhow, so I suppose yer luck isn't too good, is it? If it were up t'me, we'd kill ya on th'spot an' toss ya inta th'drink, but...I jus' got 'ere an' 'ave no authority." Folding his arms across his chest, he continues glowering down at them.

The weasel and lizard both look terrified. The weasel opens his muzzle to speak again. But this time the lizard wastes no chances in screwing up and getting them killed. She promptly grabs the weasels own tail before shoving it into his open muzzle. A look of shock cross his eyes until the lizard slugs him again, this time harder...and in the face. "Wait! No need for..." She gulps, "Executionsss. At least not mine." her tail begins wagging back and forth behind her like a cat, "I can help! Like i ssaid! I'm a temp. I'm mercenary. I've worked with half a dozen other bandit gangss in thisss area." A coy smile splits her muzzle, "I know where they all hang out. Where they go. Where they don't go. Where they hide their loot...and some time sssslaves." The warrior otter may have been trying to be intimidating but, it might just pay off.

"I don't become a belt...I tell you where they are." The lizard whimpers a little, "I really, don't want to become luggage..."

His sword is swinging up as the lizard suddenly explodes into action, but as he is bringing it towards her - it stops. "Slaves?" His voice is humorless and he only hesitates a moment. He yanks a length of rope from his belt and grabs the lizard roughly by the neck; a knee goes roughly into her back as he floors and hogties her in a practiced motion, the hood of his fox-pelt cloak falling over his head and giving him the charming appearance of an otherworldly, white demon. Casually, he turns his attention to Flynn. "Well, tell y'what. We ain't in Camp yet an' this was your fight 'fore I stepped in. I don't want t'deal with this lot -" Trayse juts his chin, roughly, towards the other vermin. "This'un an' her information'll be useful. Rest'r your's."

Flynn turns his attention to Trayse, though he keeps an eye on the weasel. "T'be honest with ya, mate, I dunno if it's worth dirtyin' mah paws with this lot, it'd be a waste o'precious energy. I ain't as young 's I used ta be y'know." He gets a devious grin as an idea comes into his head. "I'm thinkin' wot we could do with this 'un, if yer inclined t'keep th'handbag there with ya..." he nods towards the lizard..."Tie em up, drag em out to th'middle o'th' forest, mebbe where the rumors o'that big, shadowy beast with th'huge teeth n'claws are situated, an' just leave im there t'fend fer hisself. Mebbe that'll teach em to mess with th'otterfolk when we're 'avin' a bad day, eh?" Flynn gives Trayse another light, playful nudge. "Mate, ya shoulda seen th'looks on their faces when ya came bargin' outta th'bushes, I think their skins jus' jumped off their bodies an' ran away inta th'forest. Kinda like th'one yer wearin, as a matter o'fact!"

"I know mine nearly did." Liask admits.

"My name isn't handbag! It's...gah!" She struggles in her bounds.

"I don't know, I kind of like Handbag." Liask laughs. He shrugs, "I am ok with what ever you decide. We should do it quickly though, before they wake up."

"If you lot don't untie me I sswear I'll BITE YOUR ANKLES OFF!" The lizard now named Handbag growls from where she lays.

"Quiet, Handbag!" Trayse growls, snapping his muzzle shut at the lizard's ear hole. She can expect honorable treatment, but that doesn't mean gentle. He has no soft spot for vermin, this is apparent. The otter stands upright, keeping one foot planted against the lizard - just to keep his claim. "Heh, first sign of a disobedient band'a no-hoos. Any organized group worth worryin' bout would have had a sentry. Two, if they're formidable." He winks, playfully and nods along with this new plan. "Oh, aye. Haul 'em out - seems solid t'me. Need a paw?"

Flynn winces a bit, flexing his shoulders a couple of times...those lizard claws stung! "You c'n take away from th'handbag an extra day o'food n'water fer m'injuries though if ya feel like it," he grins and winks at Trayse. "I think I c'n handle this'un though. Can't make it easy for 'im t'make 'is way back 'ere, so..." Turning towards where the weasel is lying on the ground, Flynn uses his hefty paw to strike him forcefully across the face for a quick knockout blow, before he leans down to lift him up on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "I'll drop 'im out there n'be back inna jiffy, mate, wouldn't wanna miss any more o'th' action 'ere..." Winking to his two comrades, Flynn trudges down the path with his baggage, intent on dropping him somewhere in the middle of the woods where he couldn't find his way back here.