Sidelines

Angus, Frigg, Stubb (spoofing), Hactor

Location: Ruingate

This log takes place in parallel with the events of Oh, Rats! and immediately after the events in this log.

It could have been hours that he sulked there, shaky and fretful--then again, perhaps not. The lizard casts a slow look to the floor, questioning whether his pacing had left some sort of indicative imprint in the scuffed floor. There was no visible path to speak of, and his head tilts, as if displeased by this. Pulling his chin up, eyes roll to the window, and Angus flexes his toes, digging hooked claws into the hardwood. He drags them a couple of inches.

Frigg paces back down the hallway - she'd waited until Viddick and Stubb and Amos left... but the lizard was still somewhere about, so she kept her guard up. There was always the fact that she looked more like a rat than the others did, so that small fact calmed her a bit. Besides, she had her things to go back up and retrieve! The mouse carefully walks up to the door where they had been and looks through the keyhole again. There he is.

Through the frosted panes, the snowstorm's fury waxes further, drawing swirling eddies of flakes dancing against the obsidian sky. A jingling sound rises in the distance, at first ascribable to the tug of the wind. As it crescendos, the noise resolves into a regular pattern, as of a swarm of armored beasts crunching by in the snow. A shout punctuates the quiet, accompanied by a hearty crack of the fire.

The old mouse, indeed, peeps the dragon, in all his squamous glory. He would smell her lurking, too, if not so preoccupied by his thoughts. A racing mind can amount to certain catastrophe in times as volatile as these; it is all to easy to be caught off guard, to blunder. Perhaps he all ready has. The vibrations jar Angus before the noise gets a chance, and he almost trips, forgetting to dislodge his claws from the floor, as he dives for the window. A palm smears at the frosted pane, eyes, wild and dark, probing for the source of the ruckus.

The noises retreat into the snow-laced darkness. Their only visible manifestation is a column of three torches, borne aloft, whose pricks of golden light progress in an undulating row toward an unknown destination.

Frigg's eyes widen... she wonders what could be outside that's causing the lizard to behave so strangely - but she thinks it must have been what Viddick was planning, perhaps. The mouse takes the opportunity while the lizard is distracted to try to cover the rest of the hallway to the main tavern, and is so preoccupied with what Angus might suddenly do that she backs out of the cul de sac, ignorant of what might be coming down the hallway behind her.

Angus watches as the fireflies retreat into the night. His nose is almost flush with the glass, and every exhale results in a cloud of steam that he must rectify with another wipe of his palm. Luckily, the lizard is mostly holding his breath, suffocated by the lump that ascends from his guts and into his throat. The chilly air is tainted, alight with the sensation that things are not right. Driving his heel into the floor, the dragon pivots. "Fireflies," he speaks, followed by a guttural hiss-laugh, and begins to collect discarded winter-wear. Minutes elapse as Angus dons his ridiculous get-up--head wrap, furry ear-hold covers, et al--and lumbers for the door.

Old maid mouse hears the footsteps of the lizard and panics, not knowing whether to back away quietly or make a run for it... she can't make up her mind until she hears the door, and then she turns and bolts - right into a rat with a big stick. More of a spear, really... he squints at her, "You supposed ta be here, ma'am? Viddick said I'd find a mouse hereabouts, named Friggin' or Fridge, or some such..."

When his palm contacts the handle, it dawns on Angus how cold his hand is; how could the metal feel so warm on such a frigid night? He drifts again, stare listlessly fixed on the bony mitt, but he returns to the present with a visceral jerk. With a feverish twist of the knob, the door is flung open, and the dragon is left staring into the corridor, and into the faces of the little rodents. In that split second, he sizes each up: the geriatric spy and a splinter-wielding grunt, no real threat. "Evenin', mates--might I be so privy as t'know what yer' doin' out here? This galoot causin' yew trouble, ma'am?"

Frigg nods, shakes her head, isn't sure what her answer 'should' be. What does one or the other mean? She mumbles, "I... please! I didn't mean to be here, I was forced to..." She turns around and proceeds to shake her head and nod again, "Um... no. Viddick... went that way..." She points down the hall. Was that the right thing to do? "Take me with you." She looks back at the rat, and isn't sure at all she's doing the right thing, "I don't know who you mean, sorry..."

Angus's blue tongue flutters, his boxy head tilted at the skit that unfolds before him. He emerges from the private chamber, which involves a quick duck to avoid impact with the door frame, and then puffs up to proper posture. Thin lips part, but nothing is uttered just yet, as the lizard continues to scrutinize the pair. "Aye, lad," he contends, approaching the rodents steadily. "Where're my mates, mate? I suggest y'take us *both* with yew, and right quick, lest I be forced t'snatch that twig of yers' and lodge in somewhere mostly unplesant for yew."

A thunderstorm of hoofbeats erupts outside the inn, loud enough to be clearly discerned even here in the cramped back hallway. They quickly fade in the direction of the running soldiers. Clearly, something is afoot.

The rat guard looks blankly at the lizard, "I wouldn't know who yore mates are, dragon... but I do know that my mate 'as instructions for a Friggins, or whatever... is a short mouse, about yore height, sorta old... and I 'aven't seen anybody's around as looks like 'dat except'n you, ma'am. Said not to let anybody else know, either."

Instructions? That sounds like a good thing, not a bad thing. But she can't change her mind in front of Angus... "Well... I was... here with my sister, /that/ must be who you mean... Frigg? Ah, I bet that's her... um..." She looks at the lizard, "I'll be right back to take down the message for her..." Her back is turned to Angus, so she winks. "Anyway... um... Angus, right? They went out this way - I can show you where they went to a point, but then I lost them..."

Sudennly a raspy voice was heard behind the rat. "Is there some sort of problem rat?" Derectly behind the rat stands Hactor, his good eye looking grim. He has both paws on his walking stick, but they are tence as if he is ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Situating himself between rat and mouse, Angus extends his arms, locking one around the shoulders of each rodent respectively. His wrists turn inward, and digits raise to pinch, ever so gently, just beneath their chins. Not ready to subscribe to her story, the dragon snarles, "Y'know me mates, madame--I believe they tried t'put y'down some hole several nights back? A tiny door fer a wee little mousemarm." As he focuses on Frigg, the finger beneath her jaw flexes, tickling flesh with a claw. "And as fer yew," he says, head shifting to face the soldier, "Who sent yew? Spill it, or I'll slice th'truth from yer damn throat." The nail that taunts the rat is less forgiving. Then Angus flits his tongue again, collecting the scent of the fox. "M'lord bum," is his affected greeting.

The rat guard, whose name is Floten, turns around to meet Hactor. "None of this concerns either of you, so there is no problem, no. I will wait for you, miss... when you come back, I will give you your *cough* sister's message." He allows the fox room to move past, looking skeptically after all three. Suddenly he's being embraced by the lizard, and tries to pull away but can't, "Viddick, dragon, but I ain't knows where m'mate went off to, jus' this message. Don't know a word, now leggo of me - the guard's thick tonight, an' you won't get far if you kill me..."

Hactor grimaces at the lizard, but apon seeing Floten 'huged' by Angus he grins and replies, "Oh really now? Well there are more than two ways to pluck a sparrown." He moves in close as if to whisper something, buth then a very small dagger apears from his sleave. It's out of sight, but the rat will definetly feel the blades point against his belly. "Now," begins Hactor very darkley, "Your'e gonna help us...Or Angus here will be haven a noice lil snack. Savvy?"

Frigg, wanting to get her message later, pipes up, "Lads, I can show you both better than he - I saw them all three leave, and the direction in which they went... is anybeast listening? I doubt this fellow was even outside at the time; in fact, I saw him in the tavern as Viddick was bringing me here. They went /that/ way, and then towards the square with the... hanging... tree..."

Angus knits his scaly brows. Nostrils flare with a fiery exhale; the dragon is in no mood to deal with the rodents' half-truths or the enigma that has become the dethroned warlord. While the prospect of a snack extorts an involuntary groan from an empty belly, the lizard is likewise in no position to feast on the pests. An aggressive coax rasps from deep within his maw, "C'mon, troops, off with us--quick quick!" The company of Hactor's blade provides Angus with enough confidence to release Floten from his trap. The wrinkled maid yammers on, still within his clutches, to which the reptile rolls his eyes. "Shush, y'crinkled strumpet--I heard yew. Lead us."

"Aye," is all the fox mutters. He then swings the rat around in fron of him, keeping the dagger dangerously close. "Toike me to tha hangin tree...And no funny bussines!" He motions for the rat to move.

Hactor turnes to the lizard and sayes with no hint of humor, "You stay and watch tha mouse...Understood?" His tone of voice shows he is in absolutley no mood for an argument at the moment.

Frigg gulps and looks after the fox and the rat that has her message... that fox better not be too liberal with his blade... "Do be careful!"

The rat looks back and grunts. "Yore friends is abusive, sistermouse... tell 'im to be careful with me, if ya don't mind!" He looks back at Hactor, "Aye, then, I'll take ya there... probably nothin' goin' on there, Viddick is supposed to be on watch, is all. Dunno what he'd be doin' there..."

"I gotta good hunch," growled the fox. "Now move your arse!"

Angus maintains his snug grip on Frigg, not wanting to engage in an obnoxious good chase with the time-addled nymph should she wrench free. He is kind enough to drop the hold, however, and repositions it around her waist, albeit with the poise of a perfect gentleman. "Lord dog, I'll watch th'mouse--but not fer long. If yew ain't back with m'crew in a half-shake of a weasel tail, imma' come fer alla' yew." The lizard escorts Frigg to the top of the stares, casting a look back to the fox and the rat, "Me and th' lady will wait in th'tavern."

Hactor grunts a curse over his shoulder and exits with the protesting rat.

Frigg looks up at the lizard and down at her waist. To her, there's not many gentleman-ly ways to put ones paws around a mature mouse's waist. "Excuse me, sir! Handle me like you would one of your cheap harem girls, would you? I'm not going to scurry away - I'm plenty old for that."

Angus realizes that traversing the stairs side-by-side with Frigg is an utter impossibility, in any event, so he removes his arm. He reattaches; thumb and index finger pinching the back of her neck. "Downstairs, m'lady. Now!"

Floten exits with Hactor's swordpoint at his back... "Fine, then, fox... jab me the whole way there, won't you? First sign of my friends and you'll probably be over your head in rats, mate..."

The noise of the tavern washes over the entrants, bubbling with rumor and tall tales of conquests. Remarkable for their absence are the horse and rabbit pair, whose spots at the bar are occupied by a pair of hooded figures. The eyes of one lift to mark the arrival of the lizard before quickly returning to the parchment in its paws.

Angus stumbles from the interior rooms, ushering the ancient mouse by the nape of her neck. He selects a table, and pushes Frigg down into a seat. "Sit," he demands, but has all ready placed her in it, if she fails to physically object. "I'll fetch us somethin' boozy, y'be a good lass n'don't budge an inch." The dragon stomps to the bar and, after a short exchange with the keep, has a sizable bottle in hand. Its girth would be more impressive, were it wielded by a beast of average stature; in the lizard's grip, it might as well be a futuristic bottled beer. More like a handle, in reality, and Angus declines the tender's offer for mugs. With a heavy swig, he turns to rejoin Frigg.

Frigg does as she's told and is put in her place... this is primary school all over again! The maid watches as the lizard goes to get the drink and drums her paws on the table. Well, better than nothing - better than that rat and Hactor, probably falling into whatever trap is already there... "So... you don't like this Viddick, I'm guessing. I don't think you like me, either. Who /are/ you with?"

"My allegiances r'few and dubious, ma'am," Angus tells her, pulling another drink from the whiskey. He rasps as it stings his gullet, then guts, and smacks his mouth. "I don't like many beasts, but, unfortunately, I've taken a shine to a certain cat and weasel, and their mismatched lovebird cohorts; all of which have gone presently missing." A shred of generosity is drummed up from his heart, perhaps wheedled by the shots, and the dragon dangles the bottle in front of the mouse's snout.

Frigg's face twists into a disgusted scowl and she shakes her head, "I don't, thanks. And my boys would never either, I hope. They probably don't listen to their mother's wisdom these days... whatever's..." She swallows and bites her lip. "You wouldn't know, right?"

The front door swings open with a slam and a column of cold dust. A rat, stooped and gasping for air tears into the room. His pants are stained dark, and his manner generally suggests terror. His machismo renders as curses what for a weaker beast would be tears. "Hell's bleedin' bells!" he says when his voice is recovered. Only then do the scattered snorts of derision alert him to his soiled garments. His nose and ears turn scarlet.

When she rejects his offer, the lizard is a tad put off, but he drowns it in whiskey. He is wiping away the aftermath--spittle and snot, as the strong drink as made his eyes and nose water--when she mentions her upstanding spawn. "More than yew might think, m'lady," he snaps, abruptly tense. The leathery mountain careens to face her, drops his elbows to the tabletop, and locks eyes with Frigg. Desperation paints their stare, sad and wretched. Propping his chin on the mouth of the bottle, the dragon studies her soul, wordless, until commotion erupts at the door. "What th'--" ensuing obscenities are drowned out by the rat arrival's own, but Angus refrains from moving just yet.

The lizard is staring funny... o.o Frigg is momentarily confused by this new change that's overcome the cold-blooded scaly giant. She's confused and yet stuck on the gaze until it's pulled away. Ugh. "What is it with you - you seem awfully mercurial for one of your... kind.." She sighs, and looks abruptly over at the rat when he makes his entrance. "He looks - like a nightmare just caught him dozing off!"

The rat's trembling knees knock together as he maneuvers to conceal his shame. He hovers there just long enough to cry out: "Them's back! Da Sword Dancers is back!" He mingles this liberally with profanities, including a final one to lay the copestone of terror, before darting back out the door.

Angus has his eyes planted on the rat now, but his lips quirk in a crooked smirk. "And exactly, m'lady, how many of 'my kind' have yew had the pleasure of dealin' with?" The question is half-hearted, as the lizard is primarily concerned with the state of the rat, but for the sake of his comrades more so than that of the frantic profanity factory. None of this bodes well for the safety of his cohorts. Lifting himself from the table, the lizard is upright. "Not good, ma'am, not good," he mutters, and collects the bottle. It is pushed to his lips and held there, not drawn from, as he watches the rodent scurry into the night. Then the mighty head tilts back, and the liquid washes down his maw. "We may just haveta' dump on this whole foxy scheme--I ain't stickin' around this dive fer this. Sidelines is fine, except when it may cost yer pals their necks."

Frigg looks back at Angus, "Well! Enough! I heard from this one town I thought my son had settled in for a while that liz--- oh jumping j- where are we going now? I'm not the sort of mouse for a fight, if that's what you're dragging me into!" She looks out the door, "It sounds awfully scary, what he was talking about, and you can see it in his face... I'm not... they're not /my/ 'pals', you know!" She folds her paws in her arms. "I'll be /right/ here, if you need me to kiss bruises."

"Nah-nah, m'lady," is his answer. Warmed by drink and his many layered of clothing, the lizard is braced for the unavoidable trek into the snowy outdoors, prepared to rush head-long into what ever it is that awaits him. "I won't let harm come t' a single fur on her hide, but I ain't about t'let yew outta' my sight, fight or not." He holds the bottle out, watching the liquid swish inside of it, then stashed the thing in the crook of an arm. Reaching to Frigg's creased hand, Angus pulls her to her feeble old feet. "Now's as good as ever, sweetheart."

"This is /not/ the end for me, /swear it on your life/! I'm not about to die after coming all this way in search of my family - not for some rat horde, or for some bally fox's ambitions. Or that weasel's. So don't expect me to run alongside you unto the breach!" The mouse gets up and scoots her chair politely in, before patting down her robe and following the lizard.

The mouse is far more obedient than Angus expected, so he removes the bottle from where he lodged it. Grasped by its neck, the lizard swings it awkwardly, almost to his mouth, but avoids his head. Instead, it twists in his palm, and is now stationed above one shoulder, clenched and inclined to obliterate any offending skulls. The free hand shoots forth, bumping the Frigg's spine at shoulder-level, prompting her to quicken the pace. As the two make it to the threshold of the exit, the dragon glances among the various other patrons, goading them with a half-cocked smile. "Any body else up fer th'circus?" There is no pause for response, as he urges Frigg out the door.