Return to the Temple
Delilah (Stubb spoof), Angus, Trace, Amos, Frigg, Malcolm (Cerberus spoof), Hactor
Location: Central Park / Ancient Temple (Collinsel)
Evening bruises the sky as Delilah's paws pad easily across the grassy park, bearing her slender form with an ease that makes her seem weightless. "Just this way... Yes, I see some of you have come this way before." Her eyes read the imprints of feet gone this way only a couple days prior. The days have been rainless since then, but the gravid air threatens to break at any moment now. Steel clouds amass above, the leaf-thick trees seeming to stir the air into greater fury. "Goodness knows how deep they've burrowed beneath this place," the weasel says, shivering, as she leads the group to the side of the vine-choked temple.
Angus trots behind the weasel, tail wedging a slushy wake in the weeds and mud. Brief glances are cut to the nearby park land, as his tongue flits at trembling shadows, sampling their intent. The lizard stops every so often, amid his investigation, and falls a few paces behind; he promptly jerks back to his charge, long strides closing the gap.
Where are they going? What are they doing? And why are they walking through mud to do it? Trace is... not.. totally giddy about this situation, as evident by her occasional mutterings and the way she's moving around to avoid the mud as much as she can. For being one of the 'scary' ones in the group, she sure doesn't like stuff like this. "Please don't tell me we're going to have to /determine/ how deep they've buried under the place," she mutters aloud to no one in particular. As she steps into a puddle and yanks her boot out with a certainly un-ladylike curse.
Amos rushes to catch up, the wildcat having done some investigating himself before he matches his pace with Angus, "Any bloody idea where she's taking us or what she's talking about?"
"I can hear you, you know," says the weasel. "And I'd think you have a bloody idea where I'm taking you, since you've been here before." A rumble of distant thunder echoes above. "This is where the Keepers hold their... ceremonies. And where they conduct their business here in Collinsel." She reaches the entrance and runs a paw along the stone jamb. Superficial bits crumble away at her touch. "It was once the home of an Order, I believe, but that was many seasons ago."
Angus rotates his head, until his cheek contacts his shoulder and dark eyes meet Trace. As the monitor turns to speak, Delilah trumps him, and a foot embeds in a clump of sodden turf, which sends the lizard stumbling for a step. "S'not like we kin back out now, ye' know." Swagger rebounded, the dragon, pitching an oblivious shake of his head, mutters to Amos, "Lookin' like she's got some sorta' strategy. We kin hope." He wraps his palm around the stone threshold, glancing down at Delilah. "Ain't the cheeriest of digs, m'love," he mutters with a visible cringe.
Frigg is always on the fringe of the group... she just barely manages to keep them all in sight. She can't remember whether it was Mayeul who taught her this or the other way around, and a paw comes up to her brow, "Come now, Frigg, you can't remember a simple thing like that? Your son should put you in a home, if he ever gets back..." She fights back a tear and keeps going, trying to stay on the edge of the trees to keep from being detected. What are they doing? She perks her ears at the weasel, getting 'where... Keepers... their ...-monies.'
"Had I known we were coming back to this place, I certainly would have had other opinions," Trace states with no hint of amusement in her words. Really, this is disgusting. And though she had a score to settle with a certain rat in here, she's still not too happy about coming back. What is it they expect to find here? "And doing this will somehow help Stubb and allow us to be on our way again?" she asks, this time, pointedly to Delilah as she steps around the big hole left in the ground from Angus' slip. "Oh, this is horribly disgusting. We couldn't have come on a dry day?"
A flash of lightning ignites the sky, followed at length by the crackle of thunder.
And that causes one of the beasts in the group to jump. Malcolm, who really didn't want to be here at the time, was taking up the back. But when the thunder crashed, he jumped a mile. He frowns a little bit and keeps up a little closer, looking around, keeping his arms folded firmly across his chest.
Amos chews on a piece of straw, not seeming to mind the mud or the threatening lighting as it flashes in the sky, "Suppose she does, as long as ya trust her to know what she's doing, " He turns to eye the rat, "Ya a rat, ain't ya suppose to like living in sewers and such?"
Delilah makes a quarter-turn, still keeping her paw planted on the frame of the entrance, to cast her eyes over the others. "I'm not sure what I expect to find, exactly," she says quietly. Her eyes glitter as the sky flashes once more. "But I do know that they've moved on. I also know that there are secret entrances and exits and that maybe we can get a clue as to where the Keepers have gone. Where that rat you saw... where he escaped to." She pulls her paw away from the wall and turns fully on the group. "You'll follow if you care for Stubby. You'll follow if you want to get revenge... and prevent... Well, just what, I can't say." She falls prematurely quiet, to look with morose rumination at the ground before her.
Angus' tongue darts, agitated, but the substantial humidity--and the mustiness of the vine-choked temple--trounces notice of Frigg's cautious proximity. Quiet for now, the dragon looks among the others, hand idly kneading at the bridge of his snout. He cranes his head, vying, after Deliliah, for a glimpse inside the temple, but its gloomy interior betrays little When the weather crackles, the monitor flinches a bit, and a paternal gaze scours the group for Malcolm. "Ye' all right there, Mally?" he asks, imparting a faint, hardly comforting, smile. "I told ye' this'd be, well .." The dragon trails off.
The mousemaid had planned for the lizard... hadn't she? She uses the bushes to scamper between the trees, but is cautious of the creepers and tree-roots, which could cause her to lose her footing. Frigg keeps following, the red-hooded mouse acting much younger than she ought to be, in this weather. Her paws tremble as the rain soaks them, and she has a chill - but it can't be the weather...
Okay. Okay, OKAY. Fine. Yes, Trace wants revenge something fierce upon the rat who had disappeared into the temple when they'd first arrived here. She hates the mud. She hates going back into the temple. And she really hates the thunder and lightning, which cause a shiver to dip down her spine. But. She does want her revenge. So the ratmaid just snorts lightly, setting a paw upon the whip at her side as she follows after the others. "Well, let us do this and be done with it. And for your information, Amos, I am /not/ a sewer rat. Refer to me as one again and I will certainly see your head on a pike."
The younger lizard thing blinks and looks up at Angus, frowning a bit more, quickly looking away. "M'fine." he replies with a little bit of a growl. Malcom made it clear he didn't really want to come on this boring 'quest' thing or whatever it was, but he didn't really want to stay where he was either. His eyes glue themselves to the ground as he comes to a total stop as he hears the others. He frowns and looks around for a moment, wanting to get away, almost waiting for the right moment to just vanish.
Hactor follows Delilah, very wary and alert even though the trees and chirping birds tempt him to otherwise be carefree. The old Tod knows better, his missing eye and arm are testament to his hard earned knowledge. "Delilah," he begins in his raspy voice to the weasel. "Are ya sure bout this, m'lady? My fur is standing on end. What if we're out numbered eh?"
Delilah looks up at the battered old warlord. "I paid some urchins to investigate, and I've come here a few times since the night of the rescue. It's been quiet." Another crack tears across the sky, and as if cued, the rain begins to tumble in clusters of clumsy droplets across the trees and onto the adventurers.
Hazy smile blooming, Angus snorts at Amos, in concurrence with the rat's appraisal of her lineage. "Aye, mate. She's one o' them *fancy* rattahs. Lookit her spots." A gesture indicates Trace's elaborate pelt, all though the lizard is drawing the patches on himself. He then, as the child pipes up, shifts his attention to Malcolm. "Just stay close, Mally, an' we'll watch yer tail. Trace ain't gonna' let nothin' happen t' ye'. Or t'lil' ole' me, right, m'dear?" He clasps his hands, eyelids fluttering. "I hear she's a tough broad," he whispers, aside.
Frigg starts to wish she hadn't come out in this dreadful place in what seem to be the worst possible conditions. The mouse curses in the only ways she knows how, which are rather mild and unconvincing, while at the same time she kicks every obstacle in her way. She's also become quite careless in her methods of self-concealment, although she catches herself in time. The bottom of her robes, light as they are for this time of year, still get mudded and soaked, and the mousemaid sneezes several times. "Oh, confound it! Stupid weather!"
Trace flicks her tail back and forth a few times, though whether it's in anger or in disgust at having to walk through this mud isn't entirely certain. Angus' words aren't untrue, but she doesn't offer anything to agree with him as she just makes her way to the head of the group. The rain is falling hard now, soiling her ears.. her eyes.. her nose.. her everything, with cold, drippy wet. "I'm not going to let anything happen to anybody," she finally states, with a bit harder edge than her earlier whining. "Except for perhaps that rat we ran into the last time. I have a score to settle. Shall we?"
"I hate the rain." says that quiet little beast behind everyone. Malcolm shakes his head and pulls up his hood, still frowning. His mood seems to just grow even worse as the weather gets bad. "Can I go home now?" he asks, looking up at Angus, arms still folded.
Hactor narrows his good eye, trying to see through the relentless downpore. His ear twitches at Malcolm's wining, but considering 'dady' is close by he decides to not scold the lizard pup at the moment. The fox likes his head atatched to his shoulders.
Angus lifts his chin, placidly gazing to the nearer beasts. "We've been followed by somethin' soggy and cloaked," he mumbles, squinting at the distance, "but it ain't got no 'Order' about it." A flash of red can clearly be perceived; rash curses traverse the din of rainfall. "It can't be. Does she ever quit?" The dragon steps to the side, allowing Trace and the fellows to shove past. "C'mon, Mally. No turnin' back now." He lowers his hand to the little one's shoulder, ushering him onward.
The soggy and cloaked one hurries after them, but finds herself growing very weary and heavy-pawed underfoot and in what muscles she has left that are able to carry her. She finds her breathing becoming much more shallow, and, instead of a chilling cold, she finds herself burning up. The mouse, quite alarmed by this, pauses a moment, peeking out from the current tree she's behind to see the group - "Alright, I can keep them in sight, and just take a... woah... a rest, here. Slow down, Frigg..."
They duck into the vine-covered temple.
Well, if this place isn't familiar? And for once, Trace is actually happy to get inside the temple instead of staying outside in the rain. The ratmaid leads the way, brushing back a few vines as she ducks in the entryway and keeps her whip held at paw. For all her whining, she really is tough and knows what she's doing. "Stay close, all," she remarks, glancing back over her shoulder. "Those beastly creatures have all sorts of traps in this place. Or hiding places, I suppose." Though contrary to last time and the stealth they had offered up, Trace just barges on in without any further adieu. She's in a rat-beating mood.
Hactor ducks under as well, his good eye darting about. A growl forms in his throat at the mention of booby-traps but he surpesses it, tightening his grip on his sword.
The thunder sounds muffled from inside this ancient structure--muffled, but somehow deepened or relocated to the depths of the earth. Rain splashes in through the hole in the ceiling and carves out puddles in the soiled floor. Delilah's voice cuts through the darkness. "We'll have to stay close. I don't have a torch."
"No need t'be so cagey, m'dear," the dragon hollers to the galloping old maid. "We heard ye' a mile back." The latter bit is untrue, but he, at least, is now well aware of her dogged pursuit. After outing Frigg, Angus, ever the good shepherd, waits for Delilah and his son to enter the temple, before plunging inward himself. Of course, the child wildly protests when they enter; the gloomy climate of the temple is simply to much for Malcolm. "Mally--Mal. Shush," he soothes, tugging the youth close.
