What These Hills Conceal
Stubb, Amos, Sandy, Soclose, Frigg, Targa Wfol, Carn, Hactor, Deathwatch
Location: Eastern Shore, near Marshank
The small army of vermin that the fox Targa Wfol commands marches in a curved row before the hapless bunch of travelers, one deep in most places so that Stubb and his fellow wayfarers can keep spot any foul play. Best to have your enemy where you can see him. Stubb himself looks weary, and his fur bears witness to the long hours of trudging through the clayey sand of the shoreline. He tosses a bleary look back at the rest of them, then at the sky of early evening, then down at the ground, where debris and sharp-edged shells stud his path.
Looking scruffy and exhausted Amos none-the-less grins at the weasel, "Least it ain't raining, " The cat mutters, looking to the others, "Onward though, eh?"
Sandy had her eyes on the ground as she followed the group, kicking a little sand with each step. She was being highly cautious to not step on any splintered wood or sharp weapons, and perhaps on the lookout for a decent weapon for herself.
Stubb squints up at the sky, his pace barely slackening. "Ay," he says to Amos. "It ain'. For now." He scans the scattered clouds. "Bu' we go' uvver problems, ma'e. Oi'm jes' 'opin' our friend tha bird ain' tricked us inta a toigh' spo'. Where'd that bloody fish-eater get to?" He tugs anxiously at the edge of his open vest. "If 'e made 'is own deal wif tha fox, dere ain' much we can do now.."
Soclose glides in the sky above the trudging, and the sand, and the sticks. If there is any deal making going on, the osprey must be conversing by wing beats. As the osprey comes up upon the deserted fortress he circles and lands upon the beach, near the small band. "/Hee!/ See the mighty building?" He turns to look at the tall walls and croons, "When we are on our way to the north we stand on the wall and exchange words and gifts with those who have come and gone. Do you think I will have time to do that now?"
"I'm sure he's about, he ain't steared us bad yet, " Amos just after saying this is very aware of SoClose as he makes his landing and eyes the building mentioned. The cat then eyes the bird, shrugging, "Ain't my bloody business what'cha do or don't do mate but it would be nice to know where ya been."
Soclose swipes his wingfeathers down and croons, "I did not fly far! Not very far! I went to make report." The osprey fidgets in the sand a bit as his toes dig in, "And I also had a fish. See, you'd think that you never find a good fish with all those foxes making a mess out of the water?" Soclose croons, "Yes, you would think that, so I went upstream, where they would have fled...and there they were!"
Stubb cranes his neck. His face brightens, then he gives Amos a shove in the ribs, nodding toward the fortress. "Whoi din' /you/ point it ou', ma'e? Yore sapposed ta be moi oiyes 'ere! Oi don told you ta keep watch for anyfin' strange." He eyes the bird. "That some koind a spiritchal fing? Don' moind moise'lf," he shrugs, "an' we moight as well break camp dere too, seein' as tha sun'll be sinkin' boi tha toime we arroive." He inhales sharply as his foot comes down hard on an odd shell that juts viciously from the ground.
Frigg looks at Sandy, "I /sure/ hope there hasn't been any double-dealing. That would just make this an awful couple of days." Apparently, she's started to get over the crab or whatever the thing that she'd encountered was, hepled by having left behind the scene of the crime. There's no more mention of it.
Sandy rubs her head a little bit, steady staring at the ground. She hadn't actually NOTICED there was a fortress looming quite over them in the long run, so when she looked up to reply to Frigg, she had a surprised expression on her face. "I'm sure there hasn't." she replied, sounding a little mystified, before glancing back to the large fortress.
The wildcat oofs at the shove and smirks, shrugging, "Eh, guess I got distracted by the fox army and such. Didn't think it was that important, is it?" He eyes it, then turning back to the bird, "Eh, well ain't that nice, ya got a fish eh... didn't think to bring anything back for us either?" He half turns to listen to Sandy and Frigg and shakes his head.
Teeth chatter in rhythm, but not at the bite of a harsh wind or deep freeze, unless there is an emotional equivalent emanating from the white fox's [Targa Wfol's'] gaze on his clan. He'll keep them in line, for sure, and ensure that all goes smoothly. He looks back at the bird, biting his lower lip. He looks at the foxes, growing tired, and yells out to the back of the line, where the drummers are lugging their large drums. "Buruuuun-di!! Haah!" Instantly, the drummers bang out a cadence, and new life thrums into the soldiers.
"/Ahea?/ It is a good landmark." Soclose shakes his head, "We thought about keeping our nests there once--" He pauses for a second and turns to look at Amos, "The river is not very far away! I can always get others." He shakes his head quickly again, "But I do not make offer to feed fish to an army!"
Stubb bares his teeth in Targa's direction, but gives no air to his complaint for now. He turns instead to Soclose. "What's tha name a that place? Don' look loike much from 'ere but a poile a rocks."
"It was called Marshank," Soclose croons, "There was a captain who built it before I was out of my nest. Ahh? Before I was hatched. /Hee!/ He was a poor captain, so they say... but he builds an impressive house." The osprey takes large impatient strides upon the beach as he walks, "I will have to offer to sing the next time they drum. It is all so monotonous!"
"Marshank eh?" Amos says, testing out the word as he turns to look at the building again and finds himself agreeing with the bird, "Aye, " He gives a passing glance to the fox clan.
Frigg almost steps on a bloody shard; by the looks, the same one Stubb had stuck himself on, and eyes it with disgust, making a wide arc around it as she walks but then feeling some pity and looking up at the weasel. The thought of blood coming out of him brings her to the realization that he too is weak, mortal, perhaps a thinking, feeling being. She sighs, wondering about all the things he was hiding.
Sandy rubs her paws together, looking back down to the ground. She was quite lost in her thoughts once again, but this time, they were about the large fortress... Marshank, apparently. "Place like that has to have been built by slaves..." she muttered, more or less to Frigg. "If I were in it, I'd escape it any way I possibly could... Maybe come back for revenge one day..."
Stubb limps forward a few steps then glances down. "Ah, 'toads," he hisses and stops to assess the damage. He lifts his foot to brush off the damp sand, and sure enough, the shell has etched an oozing red line into the pad of his foot. The weasel gives it a rub. "No' much ta be done jes' now." He essays to walk forward, and finding that his limb still supports his weight well enough, he grits his teeth and pushes on. "Marshank," he says with a sniff, echoing the others.
Soclose turns his head and looks over at the foxes as well. "I do not know the inside, only the roof." He turns back to look at Frigg and calls out, "/Hee?/ Something happening back there?" Soclose turns his head back to Sandy to croon, "No doubt-no doubt!" And to Stubb: "There is likely some other entrance than the front, or a hole in the wall by now."
Carn is walking across the beach from the direction of the Broadstream, huming a highland tune to himself. His eyes widen as they fall upon the fox army and the group of vermin of to their side. He drops and rolls into the cover of some nearby rocks, being as sneaky as a war-painted, claymore-wielding highland squirrel can.
The vulpine warriors maintain their steady cadence, meanwhile, only their leader walking to the side, out of line and step, sometimes getting in their faces with his seaturtle shell-helmeted visage, sometimes stepping back to judge them as a unit. He occasionally swings the spear high over his head, and beats it down on a drum carried by the foremost drummer, as he politely refrains from getting in the way of his commander.
Frigg gets a feeling they're being watched, and the drumming... "This can't be good... aren't they making far too much noise? I mean, we're in numbers, I know, but... I don't think they're quite on /our/ side." She looks into the rocks ahead and to either side, as they approach the fortress. She pulls her tattered garments about her tightly, thinking back to the thing on the beach.
Sandy looks hard at the sandy ground, still hoping to find something she could use eventually. Giving up after seeing nothing good, she looked back up, folding her arms. Perhaps she would find a weapon inside the fortress.
Soclose glances down at the sand and croons, "Too much to step on here." The osprey flaps back up into the air and circles the band from above as they make their way up the beach.
Stubb falls back a bit so that he comes up abreast of Targa Wfol. "What is dat bloody racket?" His lip curls back as he demands a reply. "They troin' ta wake tha dead? Callin' in 'elp? Calm dem down an keep 'em quoiet. If dere's beasts still livin' in Marshack, we can' 'ave 'em knowin we's 'ere."
Carn takes a deep breath, and, mustering his courage, takes a peek over the edge of the rock. He still sees the large fox army, though his attention is drawn to the weasel yelling at a fox, who appears to have a turtle shell on his head. He raises an eyebrow slightly as he sees Sandy and Frigg, seemingly walking about unhindered. He scratches his head, and the curses lightly as the hilt of his claymore bangs against a rock.
...at the wrong moment. Just before the claymore bangs into the rock, Targa gives the cry to stop the cadence, and a deep hum sounds from all members as the drum beat dies. Then, the 'ping' of the claymore. The fox instantly looks in the direction of the sound. "You are wise, weasel. Steel upon rock, surely another presence. But perhaps we were meant to draw this presence into our midst..." He grins at Stubb, "Shall I send one of mine to investigate?"
Hactor follows Targa and Stubb closley, trying to catch snippets of conversation over the drums. The older todd is still bare chested, save fore a fur cloack given to him by one of his former subordinants. The fox wouldv'e been thankfull, if not for the smeel of death wich lingered over the garment. He to catches the sudden clank of blade to stone, his good eye folowing Targa's gaze.
Frigg looks also; she looks up at Sandy, "I wish I wasn't right about this one thing, you know? I can be right /any/ other time, please..." She eyes the foxes, "Maybe we should position ourselves behind our best chance?"
Soclose loops back and then lands back in the middle of the group, addressing Stubb as he takes a few steps past. "Why-why do we not just call them?" The osprey huffs up his throat and cries up the beach, "Ahoy, in the rocks! Show yourself and save us the trouble? /Ayhe-e?/ We all know you are here!"
Sandy thought she had spotted something that looked like a cutlass in the distance! But the absence of drums and a loud clang that signified metal on rock caught her attention; thus, she'd probably never find out if it was something useable. She looked away towards the source of the noise, and was apparently entirely focused on finding the source.
Stubb grimaces at the fox's speech--the oil that drips from Targa's words is evidently not something the weasel stomachs well. "We prefer simpler meffods ta all yore show an' ceremony, ma'e." He limps a pace toward the source of the sound as Soclose calls out to the concealed spy.
Carn racks his brain for an idea, but he's never been the planning type. Finally, he gives up, and stands, give a deep sigh, his bushy tail falling behind him. He puts a paw to his claymore hilt, but it's a usuless gesture.
Soclose glances back at Stubb and his topknot bristles, "I heard that sometimes worked."
Stubb grins, "Would a done tha same moisewf, Soclose."
The white fox yells up to the squirrel, "If you would have had a bow and some arrows, you might have us at an impass, friend, but not with that short-range object. Who are you sent by, or by yourself do you go? No lies!" He digs his broad spear into the sand, and looks back to his scouts, pointing to his eyes and at the rocks all around.
Frigg breathes a sigh of relief that it only seems to be one squirrel, with a sword, no less. She waits for any moves to be made before she takes the next breath, though.
Hactor watches the display, mildy ammused by all the ruckus over one squirrel. Targa had a point though, but the old Warlord doubted it. A REAL spy or scout would not be spotted so easily. The fact that this perticullar squirrel was a highlander fascinates Hactor. Going up to Targa he whispers, "He's alone. Trust me on it. But just for good measure he should be taken as a temporary prisoner me thinks. Don't want some squirrel blabbing about us to the whole world."
Sandy continues to stare, frowning a little bit. Why was everyone making such a fuss about one squirrel? Then again, they were having extreme paranoia when they found her, so she figured it just had something to do with those arsonistic rats and such...
Deathwatch walks calmly down the beach once more. He had found Marshank, and was happy to call it his home. But he wanted to look around the Eastern Shores. Stepping over onto the beach, his yellow eyes glance at a few familiar faces he's seen before already, tilting his head a bit. What's going on now?
Stubb addresses his attention to the squirrel, who, standing alone against a sweeping backdrop, paw on hilt, looks rather puny. The weasel laughs. "Our spoi!" He spins on his heels and swings an arm behind him to point toward Carn. "Our spoi!" His brow folds in on itself at the conferring foxes. After a pause, he eyes Hactor sharply, as if to ask, Who's 'us'?
Hactor returns the sharp look to Stubb as if to say 'mind yourself'.
Carn fakes a grin at the fox, "Ah'm called Carn, of tha McCullough tribe." he draws his sword and places it point down in the sand, leaning on it. "Ah'd thank ye kindly if'n ye didn't mock mah sword, laddie." He sees Hactor whispering to Targa, but makes no move. He is still quite curious what two woodlanders are doing with such beasts, if they're not slaves, and despite the collar and cuff on Sandy's ankle, they do not look like slaves. He is in a little bit of awe at the osprey, as there are not many birds in his tribe's area of the highlands. He seems to not appreciate the weasel's laughter, and anybeast close to him can hear a slight growl.
Stubb and Hactor play a game of dueling glances.
"Ah, a squirrel tribe. It should be enough for my clan's dinner, why don't you invite the entire gang to our camp! Hahaha!! What is your destination, squirrel? Why were you watching us so sneakily?" The fox notices the squirrel eyeing up the group, "Do you count us so you can bring a sizable enough force to drive us away from your tribe? Throw us down that sword, and then we will see about any conflicts in motive, for we won't keep shouting at you and losing our voices."
Hactor roles his eye, not too surprised the rasher young fox is acting incredibly paranoid. He speeks up to the squirrel, revealing some of his own highland accent, "Come om now ma bonnie lad. Na need ta be gettn' yerself in roight heep o trouble. Jast tause on dewn tha wee toothpick an' we can make tings roigh as rain."
Deathwatch squints a little bit, hearing a bit of a hostile tone going between the group and the squirrel. The wildcat continues walking, striding towards the group, his hefty hammer hoisted upon his broad shoulder. His yellow eyes, rather curious about the sitation, glances between the vermin and the squirrel, his claws tapping a bit of an old ditty on his haft to himself.
"I am not sure I agree with this way of greeting, General." Soclose croons quietly to Targa, "but you certainly have a way of getting to the point of things. Your army will have to eat something sooner or later, no?" The osprey looks up towards the fortress, spotting that cat again. "/Aha-ee?/ The stranger again? Perhaps they are working together?"
Frigg is still not breathing, and looks quite blue in the face. Finally, she gives it up with a huge whoooshing exhalation of air, "Can we just invite him nicely down? That isn't so difficult is it? For murderous bands of foxes?"
Sandy froze at the fox's statement about the squirrel tribe. Anyone who could have seen her eyes at that moment would have seen pure hatred. She mutters under her breath, "Kill a squirrel for dinner and I'll have your tail as a trophy..."
Stubb stands back to survey the exchange from a position of dispassion. He lifts his foot to find its pads smeared with crimson-dyed sand, which he cursorily brushes off. "McCullough troibe," he says in a bemused voice low enough to be a whisper.
Carn attempts to ignore Targa, dearly hoping that Hactor is the leader here, "Och, ah thinks ah'm comfortable roight where ah am, thank ye." He is burning with curiousity about the two woodlanders, exspecially the one who looked like she was about to pass out. He again eyes Stubb. "Ah dinnae have a problem with seperating ya from yer head, laddie."
Deathwatch slowly approaches the group, stopping just shy of either, dropping his hammer, the head thwumping onto the sand with its weight as he glances to both group in an examinary glance, "Guten abend, good evening..."
Targa_Wfol looks to Hactor, "Well, your highness, it looks as if he means to be difficult with being taken willingly, what would you suggest? We are at your service, though for not much longer, it seems." He stares at Stubb's foot a moment, not giving it a second thought before awaiting Hactor's reply.
Hactor chuckles harshly at the squirrel's tone. "Ya try ta do tha' ta me mate there laddy buck, and it'll be tha last ting yer wee lil paws will ever do on this green earth." He snorts eyeing the Carn up and down, and if he had two arms he would cross them. "Look at ye, in yer tartan garbs and tossn around yer clan nameloike da lard of da manner hiself. Very shamefull. Ach! Enough o' this. I'ma given ya one last chance ye lil peace of bat droppn," his voice suddenly goes verry harsh.."Come down NOW! Before I have two arrows planted in yer greasy lil flea wridden head!!!"
Frigg doesn't notice the squirrel's interest in her, in fact, she can't see him all that clearly unless she squints. Old eyes; they frustrate her constantly, more and more, and being dizzy from not breathing fully isn't helping! She huffs at the violent tone from both foxes, "Really, I need to be much bigger than I am, so I can take charge of this little band and teach some manners! Huh!"
Soclose steps to the side and out of the way of any potential archery, the osprey making a few hops over to where Deathwatch is standing. "/Hee?/ Good evening, also! Is this a friend of yours?"
Sandy bites her lip apon hearing the threats, and shakes her head. "Don't kill him, don't kill him, don't kill him..." she muttered to herself... "Please, don't kill him!" she requested to the others; he was a fellow squirrel, she felt like she would lose it if she saw one die.
Deathwatch looks at the osprey before him, feeling a tad cautious as many of the scars that are all over his body were from raptors. The feline keeps a calm expression on his face as he hears the question, glancing over both groups, "Nein. Neizher uv zhese are friends uv mine. I yust vander zhe beach uv late...odd how I run into zhe same group over und over."
Stubb moves to Soclose's flank and, after a sharp nod to Deathwatch, says, "Dis cat is not a concern, ma'e, for now. Seems 'e's jes' a wanderer, as 'e says. Can' say oi loike 'im followin' us, but 'e can do so, long as 'e moinds hissewf an don' bring anuvver bloody army around us." He jabs a claw back at Carn. "'I's 'im we shou'd be fre'tin' ova. Cou'd be 'e has a whole troibe wif im."
The squirrel's tail puffs up angrily, "Ah'll have ye know, that tha lard of tha manor, as ye put it, is me own father." he says it not just mindlessly prideful, but with the type of pride that highlanders are known for, a pride of their heritage. He glances over at Sandy, his brows knitting together in curiousity. He'd yet to figure out this strange group. He's pleasantly surprised at the weasel's words, "Aye, tha weasel know's what's good fer 'im! Make one false step, an' ah'll sick the whole bloody tribe on ye fools." it's a thin bluff, but worth the risk. As if to drive home the point, he takes a few steps forwards, brandishing his claymore.
"I too am far-traveling," Soclose pipes, turning to look at Stubb for a moment to nod his beak before turning back to Deathwatch, "and they are following me--or perhaps they are following themselves now?" He gives the wildcat an orange eyed stare for a moment to judge his expression, then looks behind him at the footprints leading up to the fortress. The osprey suggests, "Marshank is a big place, surely there is enough room for us all to share it." With that, the osprey flaps his wings and flies into the air, moving to scout the nearby rocks.
"Bring it on ye braneless pup! Yer clan's notn' but a thached barn were brats play in da dert! Longshanks forever ye McCullough scum!" and with that the fox sccops up a rock and chunks it at the squirrel's head, making his smark with a sharm crunch.
Targa_Wfol hangs idly about, until he gets an idea and whispers to one of his head scouts. Immediately, the fox slips away behind a nearby outcropping of rock while attention is between Hactor and the squirrel, and disappears.
The squirrel's eyes roll back in his head, and a trickle of blood runs down the left side of his face, mingling with war paint. He falls with a thump to the sand, and his claymore follows.
Stubb darts over and grabs Hactor roughly by the arm--he's a physically small fellow, a slender weasel to the fox's sturdy warlord's physique, but the mantle of leadership inflates him considerably. "Let tha damn army do our dirty work. Hurlin' rocks!" His whisper is a hiss. "Yore temper wi'l get us kiwwed!" He relinquishes his grip and pushes the fox away. "Oi don' know wevvah to hope there's a troibe or no."
Deathwatch hmms, looking back towards his footsteps and nods slowly, "Indeed. Marshank is now my home. Used to be vhe fortress uv my ancestor until he vas banished, long after zhe stoat Badrang fell to Martin's sword. I claimed it as mine again, und I do admit...having such a big fortress means having too much time to myself." He blinks, seeing the stone strike the squirrel and watches the squirrel fall, "Vas zhat really called for, if he had an army behind him?"
Sandy goes wide-eyed in horror at the sight of the squirrel getting smacked in the head with the rock, and covers her mouth. Giving a shocked cry from the sight of it. "NO!"
Hactor snorts at the weasel. "Tha bulldog mouth was overunnen his puppy dog arse!" He shrugs his cloak straight, then glares at two soldiers. "Well? Go get em' ya stupid louts!"
"Even tha bloody cook 'as a better 'ead for strategy than you does, 'Actor," the weasel says at Sandy's cry.
Soclose stays up pretty high, in case there really was some force behind the squirrel. The osprey hovers for a moment in the sky, and then moves to circle the fortress.
Deathwatch squints at the osprey as he takes flight, then turns to the vermin group, "Really, your best strategy vould have been to simply step avay. A tactical retreat, if you vould. Now you better grab zhat little skvurrel before his tribe finds him, und put it on your heads."
Sandy still looked completely horrified, and even on the verge of tears. They didn't... KILL the squirrel, did they? She hoped not... It wasn't often she met another woodlander; it was all vermin to her lately.
Hactor glares needles at the weasel. "Watch yer trap! Dis coomn' from..." the fox then takes a deep breath, as if the air is a calming tonic. "I'de appreciate a wee bit more respect," he continues in a calmer, though strained tone. "After all. I know I may be no stranger to tha' bottle. An' I even admitt ta haven' a wee smidge o' a temper. Ba who was it who counqoured Mosslfower?" He then gestured slowly to himself with his good arm.
"Ay, an 'oo's draggin' 'is sorry carcass along a dirty ole beach, takin' orders from a fox 'oo tawks loike 'e's a bloody aristocrat!" Stubb barks back. "'Oo's goin' about wif ha'f a body an' but a one oiye to 'is name? Oh! Oh, is i' tha lord a Mossflower? Oh--" He dips into a cruel curtsy. "--Oi beg yore pardon, bu' what brings you ta be here, among us mis'rable an shipwrecked wretches?"
Soclose returns from the far side of the fortress and glides to a landing beside Stubb. Breaking the mood with a sudden cry, the osprey pipes, "Soclose reporting!" Then with a rustle of feathers he shakes his head and croons, "No sign of anything, in the trees or on the ground. Though, they had plenty of time to hide!" He looks over at the unconscious squirrel on the ground, "If there are others out there, perhaps we should call for them as well. Otherwise we should all move inside!"
Deathwatch nods at the osprey and says to the group, "I suggest you get yourselves to Marshank vith me. Othervise, you're gonna have skvurrels up to your eyeballs in less time zhan it takes you to say 'guten tag'." He lifts his hammer onto his shoulder, "Und I might suggest you bring zhe skvurrel vith you. Up to you, zhough."
Hactor ignores the Osprey's warning,tearing his cloak off. He then grabs a sword form an astonished gaurd and advances a step torwards Stubb, appearing much more like a warrior than ever before. "You discustin peace of flea droppins! I'll felay ya were ye stand if ya talk ta me in dat way again! So go ahead. Jest try it, I dare ye! Oh! That is unless ye want ta get yer gil Delilah t'come back an' stab ye in tha back again loike she did that res of us!"
Soclose jumps back and flaps his wings to land several feet away, "/Hi-e-e!/ Keep me out of it!" the osprey cries. "Go looking for danger and it is not there--it is there waiting for you when you get back!" He looks up at the top of the fortress, "The rooftop is looking very nice.."
Deathwatch squints at the pair and says, "Do you really vish to tempt fate? Fight between yourselves, vhile zhe chance for an army being brought down on your heads is on its vay?!" He rolls his eyes and turns away from them, heading back towards the fortress, "I have offered vhat vould be zhe best suggestion. If it is your choices to ignore it, zhen it is on your heads vhen zhe tribe finds you, already doing zheir vork."
Stubb's nostrils flare, and his eyes gleam, but he utters no further words against Hactor. "Ay. We move insoide." He turns his smoldering anger to the distraught Sandy. "If you care so bloody much about 'im, go an see to 'is poof-tailed carcass." To Soclose: "'Fink now's tha toime, ma'e. The army. Dem as wants ta follow us can follow. Dem as follows tha fox--we leave 'em 'ere. Once we're insoide Marshank safely, den give tha fool 'is orb."
Sandy looked quite surprised at Stubb's outburst towards her - and when he wasn't looking, she made a rude gesture with her hand, feeling pissed at him.
