Squirrel in a Squall
Stubb, Carn, Darkwatcher, Angus
Location: Marshank: Courtyard
A sharp knife of white tears noisily through the sky, turning the drops of heavily falling rain momentarily into visible streaks. Stubb raises a paw above his eyes, a shabby substitute for cover, and plunges from the safety of the longhouse into the chaos outdoors. Within seconds, his fur is heavy with water, combed by gravity into sharpened streaks. He moves as quickly as he can, crossing the courtyard; his feet catch in the slick morass of mud, choked by leaves and vines gravid and battered from rain. He brushes fur out of his eyes and casts about desperately until he sees it--the silhouette of the squirrel warrior, bound to a post.
Carn is not very happy with his current position, and is gnawing at the ropes, attempting to escape, though with little success. His fur is completly saturated, and mud has splashed all over him. He gazes up to Stubb, and has to yell to be heard above the storm, "Och, good ta see ya remeberd meh, laddie! Was begginin' ta tink ye'd fergot abou' poor ol' Carn!"
Stubb grabs Carn roughly by the wrists, pulling them to separate them from the post. His lips pull back, baring sharp teeth. "Keep your mouf shut, squorl." He spits rainwater free from his mouth. "Dis ain' a mission a charity or nuffin'." He pulls out a dagger from his sodden vest and slices the rope, keeping the warrior's arms bound but freeing them from their tether. He then frees the hapless beasts ankles entirely. "Aw roight. March." The weasel gives Carn a shove between the shoulder blades.
Carn recovers from the push, and is about to make some sort of snappy, arogant comeback when he decides that it'd better better to deliver it inside, we're it's not pouring. "Wateva' yew say, laddie." he steps towards the longhouse, moveing a bit hesitantly as the blood rushes back to his footpaws.
Darkwatcher is in the shadows, quietly observing.
Stubb clamps his paw onto Carn's back and continues to apply pressure--just enough to imply the willingness to use force if it is warranted. The drenched mustelid snuffles, flinging droplets of water free of his nostrils that are moments later replenished. Still pushing Carn forward, he leans in to speak in the squirrel's ear. "What 'ave you seen, squorl? Eh?" he asks in a cryptic whisper that is taut with anger--or fear.
Carn looks over his shoulder, trying to look Stubb in the eye, "Och, mostly rain, an' mud, an' muck. Tis rather wet out, if yew dinnae notice." he keeps moving forward, hoping they can get inside soon.
Darkwatcher draws his daggers, although not sure who he will use them on, and follows in the shadows.
"Rain an mud, eh?" Stubb is hissing now. "Nuffin else, eh?" The tangle of vines is even tricker to navigate on Stubb's return trip; he only had himself to get through it the first time. "We'll see if oi can' foind ways a joggin yore mem'ry." Their paws squish through the mud of the vegetable patch. Hopefully another beetle isn't about.
Carn moves along with Stubb's pushing, just as eager to get inside as he is, attempting no to trip on the vines. "Mate, just get us inside, before yew start interragatin' meh." he glances around, hoping that somebeast brought his claymore in out of the rain. He thinks he sees a glint of a bladen the darkness, but shrugs and decides it's nothing.
Darkwatcher draws closer.
A yellow rivulet of light leaks over the courtyard, decidedly warmer than the transient flickers from the storm. It slips from the longhouse, the door of which has recently been coaxed ajar, though this welcoming output from the interior lamps is partially obscured by a giant. "Stubb, mate! Whatcha' doin'? How long's it take t'get a 'squorl' offa' pole?" Angus will not hazard a single step into rain.
"'Gus?" Stubb's voice almost squeaks. "Dat you?" He hastens through the last stretch of overgrown courtyard to the threshold of thet old wooden building. "Where the 'ell you been, ma'e?" He gives Carn another push. "Go on. Get in dere."
Carn stumbles slightly, and gives a quiet growl as he goes through the door, but he's happy to be warm again, and not being pelted with rain.
Darkwatcher enters in the shadows, unseen.
Continued in Beggars Can't Be Choosers »
