They Thought Redwall was Safe! (Is Redwall as Safe as they Say it is? Part 3!)

[Ashleg]

OOC-
Barely, and I don't really pay attention when I do go.
IC-
"He's a bit tipsy, remember?" Duncan murmured, in a reassuring way.
He patted Bracklew's shoulder.
"So Grant left us the Abbey. Well, good for him, he and Rayne deserve to get out more."

"Rayne left it," Fang chimed bitterly as he slipped out the door.

--

Grant squirmed. "The majority do not." He glanced behind him again and started to rise.
"They have weapons---"

"Hey! Yew there, yew two by th' lake, drop yer things an' put yer paws in the air!" shouted the weasel in the front, racing forward.
He swung his sword wildly (though not actually cutting anything)  and had a young, high voice.

"He's barely more than a whelp," the Abbot whispered to Rayne.

[LT Sandpaw]

"A welp whose mum should've spanked him a bit more." Rayne hissed back, but she still did as the weasel asked. There was no chance that two old abbey mice could hope to challenge these three and come out unscathed. She hoped they'd simply take what they wanted and then leave.
"We want no trouble," she told the weasel, making sure to keep her paws raised in a unthreatening manner. "We're Redwallers, we have very little to steal, and nothing of real value."

~*~*~*~*~

"He is?" Bracklew asked in surprise, having not heard the discussion earlier. "Well that might explain it, I was just having a bit of fun and it escalated into that."

[Ashleg]

As the two adults, a stoat and another weasel, caught up, the whelp with the sword fell to digging through the Redwallers' haversacks.
"Oooh, we've got vittles, mates!" he cried gleefully.

The stoat pulled a dagger on Grant and Rayne.
"So yous says yer got nothin' of value. So yer rude and liars!"
The other of the two popped around Rayne's shoulder.
"You're coming with us," he snickered. "Find anythin' else, Terrin?"

The young weasel shook his head.

"Then come on," the stoat snapped.

--

"He'll probably be better by tonight if somebeast guards the cellars like they're supposed to." Duncan chuckled. Then his smile faded.
"So, was it you that was supposed to watch Rappy? I can swear it wasn't my day..."

[LT Sandpaw]

Shoving his claws into his sword belt Bracklew leaned from one footpaw to the next, his ears twitching in an embarrassed manner. "Did I? Erm, yeah It might have been my turn." He shrugged his shoulders dismissively. Lately the task of guarding a prisoner who didn't want to escape had seemed useless, and Bracklew had been shirking the duty more often then not.
"Has he been up to something?"

~*~*~*~*~

"What do we do Grant?" Rayne asked as the stoat moved away. She'd been to concerned about the dagger to bother challenging the stoat on what constituted something of value, and even now she kept her voice low not wanting to irritate them further. "Fate alone knows what they'll do to us."

[Ashleg]

The Abbot wiped a nervous bead of sweat off his fur.
"Just do what they say. They are younger and stronger and outnumber us...any false move could mean death."
He clasped his paws, walking along briskly after the older weasel shoved him and Rayne forward with a snarled "Git moving!".

"Our friends will come for us if we are not back in due time. They always do," Grant murmured.

Young Terrin took up the rear, laughing obnoxiously.
"Wot're yew two talkin' bout? Eh? Anythin' worthwhile? Probably not!"

--

"Either he's up to looking pathetic or he's a real good actor." Duncan said with a shoulder shrug.
"He has been running around with Fang today...the audacity. He lives in the cellars, I wouldn't be surprised if he were the one giving that rat ale..."

[LT Sandpaw]

"We need to leave some sort of trail for them to follow." Rayne whispered under her breath to Grant, with considerable difficultly due to the vermin walking in such close proximity. Luckily mice have large, good ears, at least they do when they're in their prime. Rayne could only hope that Grant heard her. She'd have to take matters into her own paws just in case.
Releasing a small cry Rayne tripped, snagging her habit on a bramble and scuffing the dirt with her paws. "Sorry, I stumbled on a root." Rayne panted, doing her best not to look suspicious as she picked herself up. "We're going to fast."

~*~*~*~

"Well Drubble doesn't seem to mind him, but I don't think that mole would object to anybeast taking his drinks." Bracklew commented, winking at the hare. "I'll keep my eyes on him today on if you're concerned though."

[Ashleg]

Grant had not heard, so when he witnessed Rayne falling his eyes went wide with surprise.
"Rayne! Oh my, kind vermin, slow down, please!"

"We're goin' slow, old fella," the stoat growled, prodding him with his dagger hilt.
"If'n yer can't foller than it's yer loss. Hurryap!"

The Abbot yelped as the vermin hustled them along, through the spring forest and to a darker, more dense area. He glanced worriedly at Rayne.
"Are you alright?"

--

Duncan wanted to make some sort of retort, a kind of "Of course I'm concerned", but he merely grinned heartily and gave Bracklew a pat on the back.
"That's wot I like to hear."

He knew Rapshade was smart, but he also knew that the ferret felt kind of different about Bracklew.
At the very least, the squirrel could get in there and see what was going on.
Duncan, on the other paw, was different--more like a Salamandastron general than anything.

[LT Sandpaw]

OOC: @Hickory   You wanna post with Gruddil, I could have Twaisen interact with him get in an argument until Grodds get's back. They're just waiting around Riverblue right now.

IC:

"I'm fine, just hurt my footpaw a little." Rayne reassured Grant, dusting off her tunic. Behind them a strand of green fabric had remained caught on the brambles. A skilled tracker like Shadowmay or Duncan would be able to use it to help locate their trail. Luckily the vermin seemed unconcerned about covering their tracks, though it wouldn't be until evening before somebeast noticed their absence.

~*~*~*~

Giving Petu and Aver a quick wave, Bracklew exited the Great Hall strolling casually down the halls. He supposed Rapshade and Fang would be down in the cellars so he angled his path in that direction. He'd just poke his head in real quick and make sure nothing was amiss. There was no need for any real guarding.

Pushing the cellar door ajar he called into the cool gloom. "Rappy? You're in here right?"

[Ashleg]

OOC-
Don't have her recognize Roscoe yet.
IC-
"No," sounded a voice from behind Bracklew.
"I'm, er, right here. I knew y' were looking for me, I could tell."
Rapshade twisted his paws awkwardly.
What else would you be looking for with that kind of indifference on your face? he wanted to scream.
"Don't tell Duncan, I'm aware what he told me but please-"

--

The Abbot was silent.
Minutes passed and he perked up again, nudging Rayne.
"Listen!" he hissed.
Now he could hear laughing and singing and some kind of off-tune mandolin.
Uproarious partying in the forest!
Grant's eyebrows creased. How dim could they be?

The stoat captor stepped forth with a nasty crooked-toothed grin as he pulled back the bushes and bumped the two prisoners past, blade still poised at them.

Crooked trees dotted the place, and in the middle, on a low hanging branch that nearly scraped the ground, sat a weasel in a bright red cloak with his back to them.
His leg was swinging carelessly as he swigged wine and cracked jokes in between lyrics.
"And what do ya call a mouse that has no brain?" he half-said half-sang, bringing about an ear-wrenching trill from the mandolin.

The vermin beside him leaned closer. "I donno, what?"

The mandolin screeched.
"An idiot, Idiot!"
Brooding silence.

Young Terrin raced forward.
"Dad! We caught prisoners!"

Grant craned his neck, shooting Rayne a look.
There weren't that many vermin, just the three that caught them and the three by the tree--two of which were females--totaling six in all.
This did not seem like a horde.

[LT Sandpaw]

Waving a paw to cut Rapshade off, Bracklew shut the Cellar door behind him. "Whatever Rappy, nobeast actually cares except Duncan. Now where's Fang? I thought he went with you."

~*~*~*~*~

"We're Redwallers!" Rayne said indignantly as the stoat pushed her forward. The little mouse healer glared at the weasel in the tree for a moment, wondering if she'd seen him before. He looked familiar, and a lot like his son Terrin.
"It's the unwritten law that we are allowed to move throughout Mossflower without trouble. You should know better - Whoever you are."

[Groddil]

.

[Ashleg]

OOC-
Check the RP Discord for what I said to that, I'm not going to write it all out again.
IC-
"I don't know," Rapshade stammered.
"Why, is something wrong with Fang?"

--

The weasel in the red hopped off the tree, tossing the mandolin lazily behind him.
One of the other weasels scrambled to catch it.

"They keep sayin' that," said Terrin with a smirk. "Let's show 'em we don't care where they're from."
His dad pushed him out of the way as he stamped over there.
While he neared the prisoners, the weasel's whiskers twitched and he narrowed his eyes.
"You could be from Redwall or somewhere else, I don't give a..."

Grant flinched as the stoat guard pushed him towards the weasel, falling flat on his nose.
"Please, Sir..."
He yelped as the vermin in the cloak pulled him back to his paws, and they locked eyes.

The weasel uttered one word: "Grant?"

The mouse blinked in confusion.

"Grant, I'm Roscoe..."
He waved a paw at the guards, hissing some sort of curse under his breath.
"It's alright, they're friends, get outta here!"

The other vermin except for Terrin backed off.

[LT Sandpaw]

"Nothing's wrong with Fang as far as I know." Bracklew snorted, stepping closer to the prisoner. He stared Rapshade in the eye for a moment, a bit thrown by his apparent nervousness. Either something was up or the ferret was very concerned about being punished for disobeying orders. While the latter was more likely Bracklew couldn't shrug off the nagging suspicion of conspiracy.
"It doesn't matter, I'm sure Fang's in the kitchen or something. As for me, I'm supposed to watch you today, and I don't want to stay down in these gloomy cellars all day. So you," he jabbed Rapshade in the chest. "And I are going outside and enjoying the day. Have you eaten yet?"

~*~*~*~*~

Blinking, Rayne stared closer at Roscoe realizing at last why she'd recognized him earlier. Rayne had never really met the weasel properly, not that she'd ever wanted to. Grant knew him better which, at the moment, was extremely fortunate for their wellbeing.

[Ashleg]

Roscoe let go of the Abbot's paws and glanced around the mouse to take a gander at Rayne. "I remember her, too," he blinked his purple eyes. "Raincloud...or was it Rayanne? Tell her it's alright."

"It's Rayne," the old mouse corrected as he beckoned the healer over.

Roscoe grinned nonchalantly.

--

Rapshade jerked back and almost threw out his bad leg.
He tenderly raised a paw to rub his chest, eyes flashing angrily despite being trained on the ground.
"How nessecary was that reall--no. No sir, I haven't eaten."
He fidgeted, and his tail crinked against the wall. Nervous habits.
He was starving. The ferret pulled on his sleeve.
"Please don't waste it on me. I'm sure you'll find somebeast else who needs to eat."

[LT Sandpaw]

Shuffling closer to Roscoe and the Abbot, Rayne kept on a look of disdain her whiskers twitching in disapproval. "Fortunate that we have history, isn't it?" Rayne accused, scowling at Roscoe and his vermin compatriots. "Otherwise our situation might have been very different. Wouldn't it?"

~*~*~*~

"Yeah I'm sure we could." Bracklew sneered growing more irritated with Rapshade by the second. "Unfortunately you're under the Abbey's protection, and fate alone knows why we let you stay. So until you die or leave you're going to eat what you're given and be grateful for it, c'mon." Grabbing Rapshade by the arm Bracklew set about dragging the ferret towards the kitchens.