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Mardr has always been a thief, it was a badge of honor for the pine marten! While his brother had gone off and amassed armies, the slinky little vermin had spent his time swiping pouches and nicking food out of creature's pantries.
His name hung in the air when spoken in Southsward!
They knew to keep their doors locked and latches down, lest they wish for him to slip through the cracks! He could scale walls, slink through the shadows of the afternoon, slip under gates, and leap moats! He was Mardr, the night thief of Southsward!
Now forced North, into the rural countryside, alone. It would make any self-respecting creature weep!
The south is where he belonged, not in these cool flatlands. He was a southern pine marten, his sparse, short fur dark as the darkest oak. A spot of gold hid under his chin, about as large and round as a coin. He had grown smaller and thinner than other pine martens, the rare few that decided to prance around the region. He was no warrior beast. Across his collar spanned a horizontal scar, marking the sole time a beast had caught the scoundrel! He had eluded the Dark Forest he told himself, he told others.
The rain slicked back his fur, its color turning darker still, black as shadow. The pine marten's cloak stuck to his frame, it was too short for him for it had belonged to a hedgehog. His paws dug into the mud as he hoisted a bag onto the surface from the roots of a tree. It clinked and clunked with metal striking its brethren. He had hidden it only a moon or two ago, but the storm made the thief worry.
He grunted and strained, it had been easier to push it down there than it was getting it out. With a yank, it breached the surface. He hoisted it over his shoulder, his long body slumping under the weight. Every step sunk him deeper into mud, his loose kilt's edges staining. He grumbled, snarled at the feeling. The wind raked through his coat like a jagged comb.
This region was a disappointment. Southsward had castles, ancient clans, and vermin hordes. Bah! This simple countryside had none of it. Nobody cared for gold or jewelry, it was nothing more than silly shiny nonsense to these bumpkins! They'd sooner value the ale in a silver goblet higher than the goblet itself!
They couldn't understand the craftsmanship, the way the light played on it, the status it gave you. The pure beauty of a ruby sculpted by the ground, then finished by the skilled paws of a craftsbeast. Not that Mardr ever got to wear such things, for Cadoc got the first pawfuls of anything taken.
The wealthiest building for miles was the old abbey, it's bell ringing into the night air punctuated by thunder. The tales of that place were whispered between vermin, of treasures within the walls. Of magic swords that sliced through the air, ghosts that slid through walls, and vittles oh so decadent and mouthwatering! The vermin in this region simply wanted for food and drink, nothing more in their eyes.
Life was nothing more to them!
Not a creature saw the pine marten and his bag as he made his way through the storm at a grueling pace. He appeared only when lightning retched itself across the sky, lighting up the forest with him! At last, the shape of an overhang flashed in the distance. Deep within Mossflower, the remains of places long since forgotten sat idle in the storm. rain dripped off the edge of an overhang, making the rock shine as lighting flashed across the sky. Beneath it sat an opening to a cave, dug into the earth.
The rain paused its barrage on his fur as he slipped under. Mardr shuddered with chill, everything about him dripping water onto stone and scarce rocky grass.
Crash! The sky awakened with light, lining his figure!
"Will ya just come in before ya get sick, ya 'eavy-headed shadow!" Grittail yelled at the skulking vermin, the marten wrenched from his thoughts. The rat tapped his paw impatiently, a grimace held firmly on his features. He was plump, with a natural sneer stuck upon his snout. His tail was like old, petrified wood.
A pitiful fire shined behind the rat, made of damp wood and stone. More vermin were in the cave- some watching the rain as it fell while others occupied themselves with sleep- all idling, their bodies lit by the warm glow. No other creature held more than a curious glance to Mardr.
The pine marten's nose wrinkled in response, "I'm going to ya' fool!" He snarled. He would of brandished his Scimitar at the insolent rat, his prized weapon he had swiped from the disgusting corsairs, if his paws weren't full. It was held to his belt by a sheath, the hilt topped by a jeweled eye. "Move aside! Unless ye' want to be hit by me loot first then me blade!"
Grittail rolled his eyes, like the beast would bother! Mardr pushed past him, shoving the rat into a stoat, and went deeper into the cave. Thunk! He threw the bag onto the ground, his wiry body slumping against it. His blade slid from its sheath and against the cave floor, echoing throughout.
Mooneye grumbled as Grittail scrambled up right from on top of the stoat, eyeing the pine marten. The stoat had only one eye, the other forever a cloudy, milky white. The creature was limber, like stoats naturally are, his fur unclean, wrapped in a dirty cloth that once was white. He looked dumbly at Grittail.
"What's he doin' 'ere?" asked the stoat.
The rat sneered, "Only place to go during this. He's an odd sort, ya better just ignore him." Of course, Grittail didn't say this loud enough for Mardr to hear. That would be foolish.
Mooneye whined, "It's 'ard to ignore 'im!"
Grittail nodded, "Aye, but you best shut yore' gob and keep your chin up else he'll hear ya'. I don't want to be mangled in the rain cause of yore complain'"
The stoat shrunk at his comrades remarks, "Eugh, fine Gritty, but if you start complain' you best shut yore gob too!" Mooneye tapped the rat on the nose sharply with the flat of his dagger. The rat's paws moved quickly to shield his nose from further beratement.
"That's not somethin' called for yah' woodhead!" Grittail huffed smartly. The rat wandered away from the stoat, not bothering to retaliate such a meaningless gesture. What use would it be to get into a fight that wouldn't benefit either side? However, the stoat followed him insistently.
"What yah' think he's thinkin' about?" Mooneye stated, looking behind the two of them again.
Grittail sighed, "I don't know! Why would I know?"
The stoat grumbled, wanting an answer. He didn't bother to ask Gritty again or even attempt to ask Mardr. They knew not to bother Mardr if it doesn't concern him. Mooneye wouldn't call 'em chief, but he was the only one around with a sword. He looked up at the water dripping from the ceiling, a drop landing between his eyes. "…Why do yah' think it rains?"
"Why would I know that?" The rat answered, annoyed.
"You did say ya' were edu-yu-cated and all that businesh" Thickwhisker said pointedly from the edge of the cave as she carved a bit of wood, the ferret's overcrowded whiskers bobbing. They always bobbed when she did anything. The wood was the dry leftovers of a past fire, now an idle pastime for the vermin.
"That doesn't mean I know why the sky spits water!" Grittail snapped back. Thickwhisker snickered, her whiskers bouncing. Schik, Schik, Schik. The sound of her old knife carving wood echoed through the cave as thin strips fell onto the floor. They would be thrown into a fire later with her creation. She didn't know what she was making, it usually just ended up as something.
She pointed her knife idly at the rat. "Then what do ye' know? I bet its nothin'!" Thickwhisker sneered "Your 'eads just full of pebbles!"
Grittail puffed his chest up, "I- I know how to tell good fruit from bad ones, and which herbs are safe, and the ones ye' use tah' make up a wound-" He stated proudly.
Mooneye blinked, "But I taught ye' how tah' do those things Grittail."
Shinnnkkkkk! Mardr's blade slide against the stone.
Grittail whipped his head around, "Shaddup, ye oaf!"
Thickwhisker howled with laughter, her sharp ferret teeth gleaming in firelight. Her tube-like body whipped and wiggled! "The stoat who got his eye struck out is smarter than ye'! Actin' all high and moighty cause ye' know how tah'-"
FFFFSSSSWWWSSH!
Mardr's scimitar sliced through the air, severing the tips of the ferret's whiskers! She jumped back, the split pieces floating to the ground like feathers. No creature had seen the pine marten saunter up! His eyes glowed with anger. He snarled, the best he could, pointing the curved blade at the lot of vermin.
"Shuddup! The lot of ye! Ye all stay away from my bisnezz, or I'll slay the lot of you…s-startin from ye' tail!" He had heard his brother say that, with such bile and bite. Thickwhisker fell on top of the sleeping form of Sanicle, the rat didn't wake. Only their snoring paused for a moment before continuing to fill the air.
"I will, Mardr! We don't even know whats in ya' bag!" Thickwhisker whimpered. Mooneye hid behind Grittail, his tail left in the open.
Mardr put his footpaw on a stone, hoping to minimize the pine marten's difference in height between the lot of them. "I don't care if ye lot know or not, just don't touch it! I'll cut off ye' paws! I-I'll…" He eyed the tail of Mooneye.
Swish!
The pine marten struck, nipping the tip of the stoat's tail! Mooneye yelped and jumped, holding his tail in his paw. Only fur had been cut, flat and even as the horizon line!
"I'll cut ye' tails off faster than I cut his!" Mardr barked.
"O-of course, Mardr, I'd never go near ye' thingos!" Mooneye blubbered. An inch or two left and the poor stoat would have had half a tail!
"Ye' heard 'em! Just go to bed already." Grittail said, his eyes creasing agitated. Mardr glared at the rat, before sheathing his blade. He seemed to melt into the shadows, barely a footstep heard. How did his brother yell so much? The pine marten's throat felt dry.
He idled himself in sorting his treasures. Kitchen knives, a rusty hammer, gold-trimmed spectacles, window poles, wooden staves made for mice hands, a mouse's shortbow with a broken string, iron arrowheads, and a wooden sword. It was garbage! These damned bumpkins barely had a weapon between them. Not even a sling, things children could make!
Still, Mardr wrapped himself around his loot, the beginnings of a horde. His dreams were filled with armies, of warlords, of squirrels wielding axes. Another nightmare.