Look What the Cat Dragged In

Look What the Cat Dragged In

Players

- Jaksor

- Vannon

Guosim Camp: Mid Camp

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The heart of the camp is relatively undeveloped, spared from shrew sprawl, and

it affords a broad panorama of the colony. Except for the intermittent stone or

patch of brave turf, the dirt is packed smooth by foot traffic. To the immediate

north is a dubiously lop-sided hovel, warped with age, function indeterminate.

The balmy glower of a communal fire pit sears the eastern vista, and the

nebulous olive edge of the forest looms to the west and south. Elevated on a

mound of well-packed earth, the only structure of nearby note is a tent. Its

thick posts indicate permanency, and the brilliant pigments that festoon its

exterior imply authority, perhaps sovereignty, if such exists in a bohemian

collective. While most of their ilk has been cleared, a clump of trees crowds

over the edifice, providing asylum from the broiling rays of summer sun.

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The Guosim camp looks much the same as it has since the vermin group made it their squatting place, a jumble of rotting huts propped up and populated by newer, more nefarious denizens. Jaksor is lounging under the Log-a-log's tent, impatiently scraping his hook across a log he's dragged there, possibly for just that purpose.

It is high time for one of those 'more nefarious denizens' to return to the camp. Blown back into camp by an ill wind Vannon returns to the gang, his clothes covered in leaves and sticks. His snout appears to be covered in what appears to be water mellons. He clutches at his slightly swollen side as he painfully trots back into the old villge. "Dead...I am so dead..." The fox mumbles to himself as he walks, with a bit of a limp on his way towards the camp fire. What is he going to say to the camp? How will they react? Should he tell them that he may have DOOMED them ALL? Well, maybe he can break it to them easy...

Jaksor glances up from the scratched surface of the bark he's... scratching, and sees Vannon. His dark aspect darkens further at the sight of the fox. "Well well well. Look a' what th' cat dragged in," the polecat comments in a brooding voice.

"GAH! DON'T EAT ME!" The fox snaps out a quick bark, leaping to the ground and covering his head with his paws. After a moment he peers around the camp, slowly picking himself up and nervously twitching his tail. "Jak...Jak is that really you? Oh you don't know how glad I am to see you!" The fox scurries over, occasionally glancing behind him as if something is following him. "You won't believe the week I had! It was...it was awfull! First I got seperated from the group, then I met Weasely and some mice and and and and..." the fox casts his head backward and howls, "I nearly got EAAAATEEEEEN!"

"Mus' be desp'rate times all over, then," Jaksor comments, picking at his teeth with a piece of bone. He flicks the offending particle towards the fox. "If /you're/ th' first choice f'r th' table."

"You think I'm joking? This isn't a joke! I nearly got eaten! We are all in danger! Danger do you here me? DANGER!" The fox tries to grab the pole cat by his shirt and shake him back and forth before he realizes what he is doing, "There is a snake coming to kill us all unless we pay it tribute!" He shouts loudly.

The fox's paws grip Jaksor's tunic and the fabric gets pulled around, but the polecat himself does not move. Dark eyes flash with anger as Vannon describes their predicament. "A /snake?/" Quick as a flash, the bronze hook is under Vannon's chin, pushing upward with its sharp point. "Maybe I'll jus' kill you now an' feed it y'r lifeless corpse as /tribute,/" he growls, shoving the fox back. "Why in blazes would y' lead it back 'ere?"

The fox seems to stand on his toes as the hook is thrust upward under his chin. When he is shoved backward the fox falls flat onto his rump. "J-just hear me out! I had no choice, it was going to eat me but through some quick well placed charm and logical reasoning I was able to make the beast see reason..."

____Yesterday_____

"I don't want to diiIIIIiieEEEEeeee-e-e-e..." The fox whines while the adder slowly encircles around his body. Tulip rolls her eyes, "By all that isss holy you are the mosst whiny prey I have ever sssseen!" The snake picks up another watermellon and shoves it strait into Vannon's face. And here Tulip was wondering what to do with all those watermellons the merchant had before she ate him, and his crew. The only reason she didn't eat the fox here and now was because she was too full. The only reason she didn't kill him was, well, his fur was soft and fuzzy. And she wanted him to suffer a bit before he died...

___Now_____

"You see, I kind of managed to convince the snake to let me go with the promise of bringing it something else to eat." Vannon rubs the back of his neck. "I also may have possibly maybe told her that I could do this cause I'm the, ahem." he coughs into his paw, "Gang leader..."

Jaksor tinkles softly as he adjusts his tunic and chainmail brynie, then pulls his scimitar out of its sheath. Why? It's between the impending snake or the groveling fox- could go either way, really. "At first I'm struck with th' thought, why trade? Surely one beast makes as good'a meal as anoth'r," the polecat muses, toying with the handle of his scimitar and sending the business end moving around worringly. "Then it dawns on me like th' springtime sunrise-" his voice oddly poetic and wistful, before "we're talkin' about /you./" And to punctuate his conclusion, Jaks aims a swift kick at the fox's ribs. "I don't /care/ what y' told th' blasted snake, it's a /blasted snake!/"

Vannon gasps in pain, clutching at his chest. He sees the blade being drawn and instantly feels his heart start to race. So this is how his other family members died. He always wondered how all his cousins could have been killed only by fox eating beasts or turned into rugs. "Ok, you're a little mad. I get that. But there I-Is good news! The snake gave us, well, me really, a week to find some kind of replacement meal. It distinctly said something plump and tasty. Well it said tassssty, if there is a differnce. B-but before you go and do anything truely rash just think about how we could USE this, you know, like that Guard uniform I brought you!" The fox is quick to list off his accomplishments, and rather worried at how few they are. "I'm not quite sure HOW we can use t-this but hey, I'm trying to help right?"

"Th' only way we c'n 'use this' is as a chance t' get rid of /y'r/ sorry hide," Jaksor fumes, resisting the urge to belabor the fox with the flat of his blade. "Unfortunately f'r all assembled, we ain't got th' food f'r an undertakin' of /that/ magnitude." The polecat finally relents, collapsing back to sit on his log, pinching the bridge of his muzzle and scraping at the bark with his hook. "One more stunt like this an' I'll send y' t' th' Dark Forest, fox. An' that's a promise, not a threat. Y're more harm than good an' we jus' can't keep cleanin' y'r messes." You have to be realistic about these things.

Vannon wavers back and forth, about to faint. He...he isn't going to die? He isn't going to die. He isn't going to die! "Oh thank you thank you thank you! You are the best boss ever really. I'll..I'll make this up to you! I swear! I'll loot like...ten merchants for you! Maybe maybe even lead you to...er, no, that would be a bad idea. You wouldn't want to go THERE." The fox picks himself up, dusting himself clean and wiping water mellon off of his muzzle. His knees shake with relief, "I mean even 'I' am not crazy enough to go back to that place, even with all the gold just laying there, out in the open, waiting to be taken." The fox has a distant, depressed look. It passes quickly and his smile quickly returns. "Never mind, just forget about that."

"I migh' still kill you," Jaksor muses, rolling a piece of crust out of the corner of his eye and flicking it at the fox. "'Specially if y' don't shut up about y'r magic treasure trove. If it was real y' wouldn' be /here/ lookin' like a piece of twice-chewed jerky." Fairy tales aside, the polecat nods towards the forest. "When's this snake showin' up? Maybe we c'n feed it th' kit, though I'd reckon our own scaled wonder'd be mighty put out, like as not."

"It's not a fairy tail. I saw it with my own eyes" Vannon's growl dies down to a dull whimper, "And I saw the lizards that guard the place too... I survived going there twice, I would rather not try my luck with a third." Vannon never believed in luck, quite simply because if luck were real he would have ran out of it a LONG time ago. "And a week from now. She gave us a week to find her some kind of beast to eat."

"Well!" That wraps things up quite nicely. Jaksor actually seems to brighten a bit, ears sliding back forward from their hostile rearward posture. "We'll be gone by then. Probl'm solved."

Vannon seems taken aback, "W-we will?" The fox thinks for a long moment, "Why are we leaving the camp?"

"What, y' got attached t' th' tumbledown shacks?" Jaksor chuckles ruefully, pointing at just one such example with his hook. "We're leavin' cause there ain't no booty 'ere, an' we're goin' t' where th' booty /is./" Simple math. Come on, Vannon.

The fox is so used to having nothing he has gotten used to the idea of having nothing as normal. The fox ponders this for a moment, tapping his chin with his paw. Perhaps a change in scenery will be good for him. A fresh start, as it were. Another thought strikes him he chuckles lightly, "Hey, do you still have that otter welp? Cause I can't imagine the village letting her just dissapear..."

"She's in that hut, tied an' gagged," Jaksor answers with a jerk of his thumb towards a different hut. "Th' streamdogs've got till th' full moon [OOC: Friday], then, I dunno, Coaxoch c'n 'ave 'er or somethin'." It doesn't really matter to him.

THe fox chuckles darkly, "Wouldn't it be something if the stream dogs would com on the same night as the snake?" He chuckles and shakes his head as he walks off to clean himself off and finally, get a goods nights rest.

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Groups:

• Reavers