~Yet another chapter! I assume you are enjoying it so far. . . if you
weren't, I doubt you'd be reading this chapter. ^^ Anyways, here it is! ~
"Why are you here?" Tagg snarled at his captive. "Come to finish off Nimbalo, eh?"
Alysoun shook her head. "I'm here because Sylver asked me to come." The otter raised his eyebrows.
"Why don't you kill me then?" The weasel asked. Really, she was scared out of her wits, but if she'd been captured by someone else, say Magellan*, Alysoun knew that she'd be dead right now. The weasel was curious to know why she wasn't.
The otter shook his head. "I'm not a killer. . . that's the vermin way out." Without taking his eyes off his captive, he securely tied her up with a long piece of cord.
"Why do you call us vermin? We are perfectly respectable mustlids. . . well, out law mustlids. . . but still! We are not vermin. . ."
Tagg frowned whenever the weasel said mustlid; he had no idea what it meant, but he wasn't about to ask her.
The otter sighed and ran a paw over his heavily tattooed face. "You know very well what vermin means, weasel. Vermin are rats, stoats, weasels, ferrets, foxes and other sly, murderous creatures."
Alysoun was miffed at being classed with rats and stoats, and was about to say as such when the harvest mouse began to stir by the fire. "Tagg?" ** Nimbalo called hoarsely, and began to shiver.
The otter gave Alysoun a murderous glance at where she lay trussed up, and walked over to his friend. "Shh, mate. Tagg's here." The otter said as he stroked Nimbalo's forehead, who calmed down.
Alysoun was shocked. The harvest mouse had actually spoken! Then, an immediate feeling of guilt enveloped her, for if he was indeed an intelligent being, and he died of the wounds that she and her companions had given him, she really was what the otter had called her; vermin.
"Wot 'appened, mate?" asked Nimbalo, his breathing erratic.
"Well, remember 'ow we split up t'look for Redwall?" The harvest mouse nodded, painfully. "Y'where ambushed by weasels. . . threw some darts. I captured an inquisitive one. She's over there." The otter nodded towards the rope-wreathed form of Alysoun.
"Cowards." Nimbalo spat. "Couldn't take me one on one, eh, mate?"
During this conversation, Alysoun had been listening intently to her surroundings. She knew that the rest of Sylver's band where approaching. She had also been listening to the conversation of her captors, and felt that she now had to speak out.
"Cowards?" she called. "We aren't cowards. We hunt because we need food, unlike the stoats, who hunt and kill for amusement and profit."
Nimbalo sat up, slowly, wincing, and told her. "Well, this's one meal ye ain't going to get, vermin."
"We didn't know that you where an intelligent being. All of the mice around here are incapable of thought. If we'd known, we'd never have attacked you." Alysoun paused. "If I could speak with my band, I'm sure that our healer, Wodehead, would gladly heal you. I see that you aren't much of a healer, otter."
Tagg snorted at this implication, even though it was entirely true; he had next to no healing skills. Still, what could he do? They where lost in a strange land. . . the weasels seemed honorable enough. . . and Nimbalo did need medical attention.
The tattooed otter nodded slowly and cut through the bonds on her forelimbs. "Call your friends."
Alysoun put a paw to her mouth and gave an ear-splitting whistle. Immediately, seven weasels, including a tiny finger-weasel, entered the clearing. Their leady, the marked weasel Sylver, bow to Tagg and Nimbalo and spoke.
"We hard all that was said, and we apologize." He beckoned to a weasel. "This is Wodehead, our magician and healer"
The said weasel then went to work on a silent and surly Nimbalo. The weasels sat themselves down by the fire. Tagg seemed a giant in comparison to them; a monolith compared to the finger weasel.
Sylver introduced himself and his band, and afterwards, inquired of his name. "I am Tagg; known to most vermin as Taggerung, the mighty warrior. My friend is Nimbalo the Slayer." Tagg proceeded to tell of his adventures.
In turn, as promised, Sylver explained about the situation on Welkin, and their band's quest to find the humans and bring them back, to repair the dykes. ***
After all was said, Sylver spoke to both Nimbalo and Tagg, speaking for the whole band. "We would like to invite you to join our group, at least until you find your way to this 'Redwall' place." All of the weasels around the fire nodded eagerly.
The otter glanced at his harvest mouse friend, who nodded in affirmation. The tattooed otter smiled his acceptance and shook the offered paw. "We promise to 'elp in any way we can in your quest, and to protect our newfound comrades against the Stoat threat."
The otter glanced around. "I feel that it's my first duty as a member of yore band to inform you of the fact that there seems t'be a large group of Stoats coming this way."
All heads turned in the direction that Tagg pointed, just as the first stoat soldier appeared in a gap in between two trees.
*Magellan was a mercenary fox, without any distinguishable mercy. He was the bane of weasels everywhere; slaughtering small villages when the mood took him.
**Yes, I know this bit is way out of character. . . almost all my fics have scenes where one of the main characters is ill, mainly because you can get quite a lot of dialogue in, and they're great for bringing out the true feelings of the characters. ^^
***The main mission of the weasel band is to bring back the humans to repair the dykes surrounding the island. If they aren't repaired, then the sea will rush in, flooding the entire island, resulting in everybeast drowning. They have been temporarily repaired, but dykes need human hands to be released from the threat of springing rather large leaks.
~All right. . . what do you think? Please, please review, or I'll set my paintball-gun-wielding-twin-sister on you! *points to a really evil-looking x-silver-saffire-x, who is currently aiming a paintball gun at you* If anything needs clarifying, please tell me so, and I'll explain in the next chapter. Oh, and I apologize for Tagg and Nimbalo's horrifying bad accents. . . *whines* I tried, I really did. . .~
"Why are you here?" Tagg snarled at his captive. "Come to finish off Nimbalo, eh?"
Alysoun shook her head. "I'm here because Sylver asked me to come." The otter raised his eyebrows.
"Why don't you kill me then?" The weasel asked. Really, she was scared out of her wits, but if she'd been captured by someone else, say Magellan*, Alysoun knew that she'd be dead right now. The weasel was curious to know why she wasn't.
The otter shook his head. "I'm not a killer. . . that's the vermin way out." Without taking his eyes off his captive, he securely tied her up with a long piece of cord.
"Why do you call us vermin? We are perfectly respectable mustlids. . . well, out law mustlids. . . but still! We are not vermin. . ."
Tagg frowned whenever the weasel said mustlid; he had no idea what it meant, but he wasn't about to ask her.
The otter sighed and ran a paw over his heavily tattooed face. "You know very well what vermin means, weasel. Vermin are rats, stoats, weasels, ferrets, foxes and other sly, murderous creatures."
Alysoun was miffed at being classed with rats and stoats, and was about to say as such when the harvest mouse began to stir by the fire. "Tagg?" ** Nimbalo called hoarsely, and began to shiver.
The otter gave Alysoun a murderous glance at where she lay trussed up, and walked over to his friend. "Shh, mate. Tagg's here." The otter said as he stroked Nimbalo's forehead, who calmed down.
Alysoun was shocked. The harvest mouse had actually spoken! Then, an immediate feeling of guilt enveloped her, for if he was indeed an intelligent being, and he died of the wounds that she and her companions had given him, she really was what the otter had called her; vermin.
"Wot 'appened, mate?" asked Nimbalo, his breathing erratic.
"Well, remember 'ow we split up t'look for Redwall?" The harvest mouse nodded, painfully. "Y'where ambushed by weasels. . . threw some darts. I captured an inquisitive one. She's over there." The otter nodded towards the rope-wreathed form of Alysoun.
"Cowards." Nimbalo spat. "Couldn't take me one on one, eh, mate?"
During this conversation, Alysoun had been listening intently to her surroundings. She knew that the rest of Sylver's band where approaching. She had also been listening to the conversation of her captors, and felt that she now had to speak out.
"Cowards?" she called. "We aren't cowards. We hunt because we need food, unlike the stoats, who hunt and kill for amusement and profit."
Nimbalo sat up, slowly, wincing, and told her. "Well, this's one meal ye ain't going to get, vermin."
"We didn't know that you where an intelligent being. All of the mice around here are incapable of thought. If we'd known, we'd never have attacked you." Alysoun paused. "If I could speak with my band, I'm sure that our healer, Wodehead, would gladly heal you. I see that you aren't much of a healer, otter."
Tagg snorted at this implication, even though it was entirely true; he had next to no healing skills. Still, what could he do? They where lost in a strange land. . . the weasels seemed honorable enough. . . and Nimbalo did need medical attention.
The tattooed otter nodded slowly and cut through the bonds on her forelimbs. "Call your friends."
Alysoun put a paw to her mouth and gave an ear-splitting whistle. Immediately, seven weasels, including a tiny finger-weasel, entered the clearing. Their leady, the marked weasel Sylver, bow to Tagg and Nimbalo and spoke.
"We hard all that was said, and we apologize." He beckoned to a weasel. "This is Wodehead, our magician and healer"
The said weasel then went to work on a silent and surly Nimbalo. The weasels sat themselves down by the fire. Tagg seemed a giant in comparison to them; a monolith compared to the finger weasel.
Sylver introduced himself and his band, and afterwards, inquired of his name. "I am Tagg; known to most vermin as Taggerung, the mighty warrior. My friend is Nimbalo the Slayer." Tagg proceeded to tell of his adventures.
In turn, as promised, Sylver explained about the situation on Welkin, and their band's quest to find the humans and bring them back, to repair the dykes. ***
After all was said, Sylver spoke to both Nimbalo and Tagg, speaking for the whole band. "We would like to invite you to join our group, at least until you find your way to this 'Redwall' place." All of the weasels around the fire nodded eagerly.
The otter glanced at his harvest mouse friend, who nodded in affirmation. The tattooed otter smiled his acceptance and shook the offered paw. "We promise to 'elp in any way we can in your quest, and to protect our newfound comrades against the Stoat threat."
The otter glanced around. "I feel that it's my first duty as a member of yore band to inform you of the fact that there seems t'be a large group of Stoats coming this way."
All heads turned in the direction that Tagg pointed, just as the first stoat soldier appeared in a gap in between two trees.
*Magellan was a mercenary fox, without any distinguishable mercy. He was the bane of weasels everywhere; slaughtering small villages when the mood took him.
**Yes, I know this bit is way out of character. . . almost all my fics have scenes where one of the main characters is ill, mainly because you can get quite a lot of dialogue in, and they're great for bringing out the true feelings of the characters. ^^
***The main mission of the weasel band is to bring back the humans to repair the dykes surrounding the island. If they aren't repaired, then the sea will rush in, flooding the entire island, resulting in everybeast drowning. They have been temporarily repaired, but dykes need human hands to be released from the threat of springing rather large leaks.
~All right. . . what do you think? Please, please review, or I'll set my paintball-gun-wielding-twin-sister on you! *points to a really evil-looking x-silver-saffire-x, who is currently aiming a paintball gun at you* If anything needs clarifying, please tell me so, and I'll explain in the next chapter. Oh, and I apologize for Tagg and Nimbalo's horrifying bad accents. . . *whines* I tried, I really did. . .~