Mishaps in Halyard
Characters: Bindi, Vannon and Rioko, Dagda and his brother Bran, An innocent otter and sandwich professional.
Mid-afternoon in Halyard, and the little village is about as busy as it gets these days. Things have never quite been the same since that storm that hit a few seasons back, and most around here are quick to point it out when the state of the town is mentioned. Dagda and Bran are threading their way through the sparse crowds that more or less fill the square, headed for the ancestral Fintan abode. The pair are both dressed in common clothing, simple shirts and trousers, but the older buck wears a Long Patrol insignia pinned near the yoke of his collar. "Y' really couldn' let anyone fahget y'r in th' Pahtrol f' even one day?" the younger asks, giving his brother an exasperated glance upward.
Passing through the crowd, as meager as it is, is a simple grey fox. Despite their exodus from Mossflower times have been good for Vannon. His bright red vest and pants may be a bit frayed but they are as clean as he can manage. He may not always have food on the table working with the beasts that he does, but his ribs no longer show through his fur. He moves from stall to stall at a slow, leasurely gait. Foregoing his bow for something less noticable the fox has but a simple short sword tied to his belt with a blade no longer than his fore arm. He pauses in the middle of the road to take in the scent of the sea air...and immidietly gags on the scent of fish, poor sewer, and unwashed beasts.
Oh how he did love villages...
The smell doesnt seem to bother one Bindi Little Rat all that much; his own being strong enough to have dulled his nose down to a half working condition. Even if the smell did bother him, the rat is much to happy about being out and about to care. He now moves through the edges of the crowd, stopping occasionally to eavesdrop on passing conversations in an attempt to pick up any useful tidbit
"Hush," Dagda mutters darkly, giving his younger brother a look. "If I want t' look shahp that's m'own business. No one's makin' y' weah th' pins, so stop whinin'." The other buck rolls his eyes at the statement. "'Shahp' bein' a relative term," he notes, rounding a corner and spying Vannon at a stall a short distance away. "...although 've seen worse." A dip of the chin, a waggle of ears, and Dagda takes note as well, frosty eyes lingering on the short sword. The pair of hares is armed too, of course, and this /is/ a rough-and-tumble town, so such things tend to be worth noticing.
Ironically enough the fox takes almost no note of the hares at first. Although currious himself as to why such beasts are muscular. They must grow their hares differently here than in Mossflower. He also notices that they two are armed, with swords no less. So well fed enough to support a level of fitness, wealthy enough to afford weaponry and this close to the big mountain Salmandarstron? Vannon may have failed in math but even he could put that two and two together. Still, it would be wrong to judge people's professions based solely on their appearence.
So for now Vannon adds them to his list of 'Dangerous' beasts and pays them no more mind. Long as they keep a wide berth from him, he will do the same. "How are you holding up Bindi? Think we have earned ourselves a lunch break yet?"
Bindi pulls himself away from listening to an absolutely riveting conversation about the outrageous prices of coriander and rosemary. If nothing else, he now knows which stall owner is not going to be having much favor with the local chefs. The little rat fails to notice the hares as he is addressed by his fellow crew member, "Aye, we've been workin' 'ard. I think some lunch 'll do quite nicely."
The pair of hares are commonplace here, and no one else so much as bats an eyelash at their presence. Those big ears are good for something though, and Bran cants his head to one side, murmuring to his brother. "What sorta work y'reckon a pair like that're doin' heah in Halyard?" Dagda squints at the little rat, eyes flicking over his unkempt appearance. "Up t' no good, I reckon," he replies, resting a paw on the strap of his ubiquitous satchel. Still, /that's/ not exactly out of the ordinary here, either. Without a full-on disturbance, there's no reason to hassle the two. "Come on, let's jus' get t' Mum an' Da's," the older decides, beginning to lead Bran away by the shoulder.
And speaking of lunch, here comes a merchant rolling his market stand into the square. Unfortunately for Vannon, it's just more fish. But at least it's cooked fish, and slapped between a couple slices of bread! "Get yer sandwiches, get yer sandwiches here! One copper!"
Peychaud enters the Southern Road.
The fox pats his sides, tongue rolling out of his mouth, and hunger in his eyes. "I bet they cook fish pretty good here. Better even than the abbey, what with them being so close to the ocean." The fox takes a step forward then pauses. "Bindi...did, you actually have any money to buy lunch?" Vannon thinks for a moment then shrugs, "Meh, we will work something out. Hey! You there! With the fish!"
Money? Bah! Only the prepared think to bring money with them on a scouting job! And Bindi is most certainly /not/ one of the prepared. He much prefers the 'let's just see what happens' method. Which is for the best, considering their current plan of action. The little rat starts to follow the fox over to the cart, rubbing his paws together gleefully, "Aye, I 'aven't 'ad a proper fish sandwich since Oi was a lad!"
The merchant - a sea otter, in fact - lights up at the chance of a customer. They're fewer and far between than he'd like, these days. He gives his cart a hard shove to get it going in the right direction and trundles over. He stops and flashes a big, merchant smile. "Yes, good sirs! Can I interest you in a spot o' fish? Best fish sandwiches you ever did taste. Just one copper."
The fox rubs his chin, thinking himself sly the fox positions himself on one end of the cart, hoping against hope that the rat would do the same on the opposite side of the cart. After all, it would make it easier for the beasts to snatch a sandwhich from the cart when the otter has to crane his head from one customer to the other, "That's a might bold claim sir! The best fish sandwhiches we ever did taste! What happens if they are not?"
Bindi is no novice to street 'games' and manages to catch on to what Vannon is doing. He moves to the opposite corner of the cart and positions himself so his head is above his edge of the cart. Being short can be quite annoying, "Aye, what iffin they're 'orrible sandwiches? Oi know a guy who makes the best sandwiches this side o' the ocean. How's abouts we get a free sample, /then/ decide?"
"Well, then," the merchant replies with a cheeky grin. "You've got a full stomach anyway, 'n' that's nothing to complain about!" He holds out a paw for the money - but hesitates, at Bindi's request. His smile dims slightly, a slight hardness appearing in his eyes. "Well, now, mate, we're not a charity here. Times're tough, I ain't got the money to be givin' out free samples. You want a sandwich, I'll be havin' the coin first." And he snaps his fingers, and opens his palm.
From around the corner of a nearby shop, the pair of hares watch to see if the vermin will get into any trouble. Mom and Dad can wait five minutes.
As the otter is distracted the fox's paws move quickly, attempting to pull a sandwhich from the cart and stuff it quickly it into his open maw.
The fox stuffs the fish down quickly with a loud gulp. These sandwhiches ARE good. Offering the otter a wide toothed smile he says, "But we only have so much coin ourselves! We wouldn't want to waste it on a bad sandwhich. I mean, if you think your sandwhiches are not up to par we could just take our business elsewhere!"
Bindi flashes a devious grin at his companions antics and adds to the sandwich snitching; grabbing one he conceals it by his side, waiting to stuff it into his mouth until he adds, "Aye! Oi don't wanna get sick on some fish sandwiches that'll give me some 'orrible gut ach. Comeon', just a little bite o' a one won't 'urt nothin'"
The merchant may be distracted by Bindi's words, but when he glances back to the fox, he's aware enough of his cart's contents to notice something is amiss. His eyes scan his stock, back and forth, and then his eyes flash to Vannon. His jaw sets in a hard line. "... That's it. Yeah, you /can/ take yer business elsewhere. Filthy vermin," he sits. "I shoulda known better." He gives a hard yank on his cart, to pull it backward from the pair. He spits, then, and it lands at Bindi's feet.
The fox is taken aback at the insult. Despite his profession, no one even really wants to be insulted. Why can't people just...get along, go with the joke? Ah well, who is Vannon to judge?
After the otter turns away Vannon begins to giggle like a small dibbun. Come to think of it Vannon hasn't pulled this kind of theft since he was a fluffy fox kit. Pulling a second sandwhich from behind his back the fox turns to Bindi, "I wonder what's eating him up? Maybe he doesn't like your smell?" The fox takes a bite of his sandwhich, savoring the taste this time.
Ferilla is not very fond of sand. It's scratchy, gets everywhere, and is generally a nuisance. So even in this quaint seaside village, she finds something to complain about. Making herself distinct from Vannon and Bindi, she walks along the sandy cobblestone streets, peering at the various shops and resturants around. She doesn't look terribly impressed, but occaisionally pauses and bites her lip, making it look like she's just window shopping. Across the square from the meddling fox and his mop-toting companion, she's able to keep an eye on them without being implicated with their antics.
Bindi gives the otter his most inoccent look, though his current state of living kind of ruins the effect. He steps away from the glob of spit as it lands his feet and scowls as he mutters to himself, "Oy, just be glad tha' didn't land on me feet, water dog." Once the otter has turned away, he grudgingly takes a bite of his sandwich and renews his scowl, this time turning it on Vannon, "Who are yew callin' smelly, bog bottom?!"
Bindi gives the otter his most innocent of looks, though his gnarled teeth and blood shot eyes ruin the effect. Then the glob of spit flies gracefully through the air and lands with a solid 'splat' at the little rat's feet. Bindi looks from the spit, to the receding otter, then back to the spit, his fists visibly clenching as he tries to keep his temper in check. Tries and fails, apparently. The rat yanks his knife from its' scabbard, drops his now forgotten lunch, and takes a running leap, driving the dagger into the otter's shoulder while screeching, "Keep yer bloody sandwiches, then, water dog!" The sandwiches may indeed be bloody by the end of this.
That's what the pair of Long Patrol hares were waiting for, it seems. "/Told/ y' they were up t' no good," Bran shoots at Dagda as they come back around the corner of the shop, drawing his saber. "Alrigh', th' point has been bloody made," the healer replies, paw slapping down on the brace of throwing knives to procure a pair. "You theah! Un-stab that sammich-slingah!"
"Gah!" Ferilla jumps a bit as Bindi screeches, whirling about as her paw flies to her sword hilt defensively. "Rgh, idiots!" she hisses, watching the armed hares advance across the clearing towards her bumbling gang-mates and the stabbed otter. She pads over quietly, trying to make it look like she's just a curious bystander. If things get too hairy she might intervene, but she's content to let the boys get themselves out of their own mess this time.
"Bindi! What are you..." And there he goes. Like a rocket towards danger, thinks the fox as he slaps his fore head. "Oh for the love of..." The fox claps his paws together steooign towards the hares, "Now now gents, let's not get carried away here. Run. I mean there is no cause for violence. Run. After all, this is a crowded market place, if we fight here someone might get hurt and ah heck with it." The fox bends forward, grabbing a paw full of dirt and pepples from the ground and tossing it at the nearest hare, "Run Bindi! Run like the wind!"
The otter let's out a yell of pain and stumbles forward as the dagger enters his shoulder, allowing Bindi to tumble away from his victim and land in a 'puff' of sand a few feet away. The little rat doesn't have much time to register the fact that there's two armed hares making their way towards the scene, but Vannon's words reaching his ears are enough to shake him into action. The rat leaps to his feet and starts to dash off into the crowd, leaving his dagger in the otter and his fellow crew member to deal with the hares.
With a fistful of sandy dirt in his face, Bran splutters a bit, one finger scraping a grain from the corner of his eye. "Do we chase 'em?" The fresh-faced private glances up to his brother for confirmation, sabre in paw. The healer takes half a second to consider, before answering, "Mum an' Da've hahdly got a prison in th' basement, but we can't let 'em get away eithah." He sounds none too eager about the situation, although he might be even less inclined if he was aware of Ferilla to the rear. "Y'go aftah th' rat, I'll stay on th' fox." "Righ'!" Powerful legs spring into action as the brothers begin their pursuit.
The ermine has absolutely zero intention of blowing her cover to help out the two screwballs. In fact, she's found a rather cute (and more importantly, rich-looking) marten who's been distracted by the scene, and she's working her way towards him now.
The grey fox bolts down the streets of Halyard. Dashing past merchants, past worker beasts and laberors, the fox dares to look back if one or both hares are following him. In that brief moment Vannon collides with another beast. A grey fox, like vannon, wearing cloth wraps around her chest and a cloth sash about her waist. The two vulpines go tumbling about, the vixen's basket full of apples falling across the ground.
"Of all the stupid...why don't you watch where you are going!" Both fox's chorus as they pick themselves up. They pause, looking into each others eyes for what seems to be forever. "Er...sorry." Vannon says finally, moving past the vixen Rioko as he continues his flight from the law. Rioko stares after him, blinking in shock. Why was she blushing?
Vannon very nearly stumbles into another merchant as he runs. Why is he suddenly blushing?
Bindi continues to run through the crowd, going slower then he would have liked. The mass of beasts cause a bit of a bottleneck and though some hurriedly get out of the way of the smelly rat and his greasy appearance, more still pay him no mind, causing the little rat to resort to ducking under legs and scrambling over crates. Though he keeps moving, Bindi is not as fit as he used to be and his pace is slacking. Time to find a place to hide!
Dagda's seasons in the Patrol have prepared him well for these occassions, and his lean, fit frame easily propels him through the streets. It doesn't hurt that his knowledge of the town and its alleys borders on the preternatural, and he closes the distance between himself and Vannon rather quickly. One of those throwing knives is just about to wing out through the air toward's the fox's leg when he collides with a vixen. An innocent vixen, perhaps, and Dagda's paw falters. In that moment, Vannon scrambles back up and hurtles away, leaving the hare standing awkwardly in front of Rioko.
Bran, eager to prove himself to his brother, rips off after the rat, sabre held poised at the ready as he pounds past the merchant stalls. His vision bounces and rattles as he runs, the bared blade clearing most who see him coming from his path, those who haven't already dodged Bindi's stench, at least. The little rat is a blurred target ahead of him, winding between carts and around bodies, one the young buck stays locked onto like a heat seaking missile.
At least they ran instead of fighting, Ferilla thinks. Though that would have been funny. Having relieved the marten of his spending money, the slim ermine makes off in the opposite direction from the chase, tossing the stolen pouch back and forth between her paws. It's been a good day.
The vixen shakes her head as she watches the tod vacate the area and dissapear into the crowd. What is wrong with her? Still shaking her head Rioko turns and gasps when she sees Dagda. The fox's memory goes back to the time she spent in the mountains dungeons. She leans closer, growling at the hare, deciding if she should pelt him with apples or not. In the end the vixen 'hrumphs', casting her head arrogantly inot the air and brushing her tail by his nose as she trots away into the market place.
Bindi continues to leap through the crowd, daring a quick glance over his shoulder to see the whereabouts of his pursuer. There! And he's gaining. The little rat curses and ducks into an alleyway, hoping it will lend to his escape. He starts to charge down the narrow space, realizing to late that it's a dead end! He lets out another curse and stops, panting, at the back wall. Maybe he can climb over it? He starts to dig his claws into the solid wood, but slips back down to the ground. No use there. He turns slowly to face the mouth of the alley, clenching his paws as his sides. Looks like all there is to do now is fight! If only he hadn't left his dagger in that otter.
Of course Bran found him. Bran knows these streets well. The hare skids to a halt at the entry to the alleyway, sabre held at the ready, adopting a fighting stance and slowly pacing in. "Y'gotta do better'n that, sah," the private states with a grin, the honorific slipping in before he remembers he's supposed to be insulting the rat. "Put y' paws where I c'n see 'em an' prepayah t' be..." Killing Bindi seems out of order, but he's not law enforcement either. This is a quandary. "Prepayah t' be accosted!" Yeah, that works, right? Right!
Bindi scowls at the young private and holds up his paws. It's less of a 'I surrender' paw hold up and more of a 'I will punch you' paw hold up. But he follows orders none the less. The little rat takes a step towards the hare, then another, ending up in a full on charge, screeching his own improvised war cry, "AAAAAGGGGAAAHHHHH!!!!!" Bindi was never paid for his creativity.
Training takes over, and despite Bindi's terrifying shriek, Bran's reaction is quick and timely. He's no intentions to kill the rat, as he made clear by taking the time to talk to him rather than simply dispatching him right off. So when Bindi comes charging in, the buck simply punches him straight in the face with the hilt of the sabre.
Bindi's cry is cut off sharply as the hilt of the saber slams into his face, giving him at the very least a bloody nose. The little rat falls to the ground, quite thoroughly unconscious.
"Hah! Th' knuckle-guard /is/ good f' somethin'," Bran enthuses, looking down at his fallen foe with no small measure of satisfaction. It's at this opportune moment that Dagda appears at the entrance to the alleyway, conspicuously empty-handed. "...good work," he comments, stepping closer and peering down at the rat, whose body Bran has perched a foot atop, Captain Morgan-esque. "Let's get 'im somewhere secure, an'... less public," the older brother half-orders. Hoisting the rat up onto his shoulder, Bran follows his brother towards wherever that may be, a broad grin painted across his face. "Glad we stuck around," he remarks." So much better'n Mum's convahsations." And then they're gone around the corner.
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