Torch It
✧ ✧ Reavers ✧ ✧
- Bafaloukos, Twitchtail, Kevi, Timeon, Otto, Vannon
- Halyard Antiques
Tonight finds the central table of their makeshift war room gravid with preparation: rope, diagrams hastily inked on parchment, varied hand tools. Bafaloukos sits in a chair with a high, ornately carved back, his posture as rigid as antique wood. "Well then," he says, gold eyes drifting among the company. Light from a cluster of melty candles dances in that gaze, ominous. He has already donned a thick wool cloak, leather gloves; a kerchief hangs in a loose knot around his neck. This is a fellow primed for mischief.
Twitchtail has decided to slump against the wall, arms folded over her chest. She's a tiny thing, but woe betide anyone who decides to stand in front of her while she's trying to pay attention.
Kevi, though bandaged up from a recent tussle with a Long Patrol hare, drums the fingers of her unfractured paw across one of Baf's shoulders, head, and the other shoulder, before he can protest, taking a seat on that side of him and eyeing the laid out tools. She painfully eases her back into the back of the chair, as it's bandaged up as well from a rapier slash. "Ugghh..... okay, so what? I hope this is about the tavern. I'd love to finally have the chance to get back at an establishment that's kicked me off their doorstep."
Timeon can barely sit still, though he has been sternly instructed to do so. He perches, fidgeting, atop what appears to be an upturned urn, probably valuable once upon a time but now heavily scarred and well dinged. The young fox is seated some distance away from the table, naturally, but the fact that he is allowed to be present for a meeting of such importance speaks to his very slight promotion within the ranks of the Reavers. Noticing the play of his sister's hand across Bafaloukos' back, he glares, then looks away with evident distaste.
Standing next to the weasel maid, the cat Otto mutters something to himself quitely before turning to Twitchtail, "So what'cha say this meetin' was about again eh?" He is holding a small golden box, and seems to be struggling to try and get it open.
"I said that ya should listen t' me once in a while ya daft cat. That's what I said!" Twitch hisses back with a scowl for her taller, feline, partner. "Jus' listen to the boss, ya'll catch on! ... I 'ope."
The diaphanous touch of female fingers causes Bafaloukos to lurch. He snaps his head to stare at Kevi--snout wrinkled, fangs out. Of the many awful things he would like to bark at her just now, the old fox elects to simply say, "Yes." For a long minute, he continues to glower at the vixen, then turns to address the others: "Chief said t' torch it. Th' proprietor and 'er pride 'ave worn on our nerves." A gloved hand extends, palm up, to sweep over the items on the table. "Best t' do it secret-like, though--we know all too well that th' place crawls with mountain grunts. We can scale up the back from th' alley. Chuck somethin' in an open window, or light the roof." As he speaks, the fox gestures to the parchment plans.
"Got'cha Twitch, " Otto salutes the weasel, putting the box away he crosses his arms and focuses his attention on the meeting.
The aggression from the older male elicits a dazed, daydreaming expression on the vixen, fading only after the brief exposition of their evening plans, "Mhmm." Kevi has enough of sitting in the chair, as she paws at her back with the good arm, and for some reason squatting on the seat of it proves to yield better results. "So, we just all climb up there and throw something in? I'm missing something--what do the rest of us do while this somebeast is carrying this out?"
Twitchtail breathes a sigh of irritation and then leans forward to reach up and clip Otto's ear. "Don't sit in front o' me, ya dolt! Now I can't see anythin'!"
Timeon clears his throat and looks down at his paws. "Called a whole meetin' just for this?" He stretches out his neck and rolls his head, getting the crick out of his neck and vaguely appraising the exits.
"Tim, Otto, Twitch." With a loud baying of wood against wood, Bafaloukos shoves his chair back and stands. Both of his hands now grip the edge of the table. "Ye' up for a lil' firestartin'?" His eyes linger on the younger fox, and his mouth tightens into a grim, patient smile--almost paternal. Now is your time to shine, kid. "Yes, a /whole/ 'alf hour conference. I apologize f'r pulling ye' away from scrubbin' the baseboards." He reaches for his belt and sword. "Everythin' ye' need is here. An' there's a map of the upper rooms. I don't care /'ow/ ye' do it, exactly, but I want it to /burn/."
At that, Timeon seems appeased almost entirely. He dismounts gracefully from the urn. He runs his palms down his thighs and looks expectantly at his new confederates.
Older sister looks back at younger brother, "Tee, at the very least, if our group is suspected of foul play, we need to all have a story to cover us, isn't that right, Baffy, hon? That must be the most important reason we're all in on this." She looks vaguely concerned that he's chosen, though, and clears her throat at Twitchtail and Otto.
Twitchtail straightens up and peeks out from behind Otto, still looking disgruntled about the feline being in her way. The words she hears turn her eyes smile-wards before her muzzle catches up. "Y' can count on us."
Otto ows as he's clipped by the weasel, moving out of the way and then turning his attention in the direction of the fox as he's called, "Aye, " The cat grins at Baf, and then turns to look at Twitchtail, "What say ya?"
"I /just/ said he can count on us, ya dolt!" Twitchtail complains when Otto turns to her. She also fixes Kevi with a glare to match the vixen's concerned look.
Otto says, "Ah, right. Got'cha. Righto Twitch!"
There is a knock at the door, a rythmic rap against the wood. A code obviously but not one that anyone might be privy to. Vannon pokes his head through the door, "Howdy! Sorry I'm late." he waits for something to be thrown in his direction for being said late. When notbing immidietly comes he steps inside with a limp. "Also, I got this great idea about using a code knock to identify ourselves when we enter the shop. Now it may be a bit complicated but I assure you, it wont take more than a few hours to learn...
Timeon sidles up to the table--and more to the point, the parchment--with initial caution. His eyes fixate with well-ingrained misgiving on Bafaloukos: is this another test? But when his approach goes unchallenged, he closes the distance with an alacrity that renders him deaf to Vannon's greeting. Tim plants a paw on either side of the hand-drawn map and begins scrutinizing it.
"Go boil y' head Brushtail!" Twitch is very averse to this code knock nonsense. She also isn't into greetings.
Buckling his belt with a grunt, Bafaloukos readjusts his cloak to properly conceal the sword now beneath it. "Kevi, you and I will monitor the situation from the square." Like hell the old fox plans to miss the show. He tugs the loose fabric of the mottled kerchief over his snout, and then hides his head in the depths of a deep, droopy hood. "All right, mates. Be quick, be smart." His words are somewhat muted by the mask, but their grave timbre persists. "See ye' on the other side." And with that, the big old fiend pivots and stalks forth into the night--well, not exactly. He almost collides with Vannon. "/Van/. Getcher' cloak." Rapping on the other fox's head with a gloved fist, Bafaloukos continues: "We're headed to th' tavern."
Kevi passes Vannon, winking and grinning, "You've got my back, right, Van? You can protect me from those bullying hares." She looks back at Timeon, being entrusted to the success of the whole thing, at pretty great risk to him. "Don't choke, you little rat. Your sister is proud of you, by the way.." She smirks and walks out.
Exiting the shop after Kevi a grey furred fox throws a black wool coat over his shoulders, wrapping a red scarf over his neck, "Um...sure Kevi. I can honestly say I have no idea what is going on." Vannon says with a smile, "But Bafal said we were going to the tavern so, count me in!"
Timeon looks up at his sister's departing back. "Don' call me 'Tee'," he hisses.
Twitchtail hops up on a vacated chair. Bafal's chair; because it's a big chair. "So how are we doin' this?" -Now- she can see the plans.
Otto watches the others file out, and looks disappointed as Twitchtail takes the chair having had the same thought, "Well, how hard can it be to start a fire eh? I believe we even got some experience burning stuff! Or one of us eh?" He shrugs, "Simple enough."
Timeon dons a savage grin. "C'mon, kitty-cat! Bafa said 'e din' care how it got done, right?" He folds his arms across the map and leans in. "Well, I been workin' on jus' the thing!" The errant creaks in his voice that portend adolescence make him difficult to take seriously, but the fox doesn't acknowledge them. He furrows his brow and looks gravely from weasel to cat and back. He's in his element. The expression accentuates the gruesom scar that covers half his face.
"Ya gonna tease us or just share your idea already?" Twitchtail asks with a scowl at the young fox. She may be -much- smaller than he is, but she's clearly decided she outranks him. Just like she outranks the cat.
"Yeah, what she said, " Otto gestures to the weasel.
Timeon matches the weasel's scowl with an even darker one and stands up. "Y' don' have t' be mean about it," he says mopily, duly cowed. He looks down at the map and sees that by resting his arms on it, he's smudged the ink. He gulps, then hurriedly folds up the parchment. "Well," he creaks. "Come with me."
"Lead on brainiac!" The jill offers a sweeping gesture toward the door and hops down from the chair. "Come on, cat!"
Otto exclaims, "Aye aye!"
Continued in Kindling Favor (Twitchtail, Timeon, Otto) and The Warm Thrill of Confusion (Bafaloukos, Kevi, Vannon).
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