The Meat Traders of Baldoshi RP

[shisteer of nothing much]

  The argument between the two weasels had provided plenty of time for the stock to stop and stretch, chat for a bit, and then return to their work at leisure, which of course meant that they did an excellent job of looking busy, without actually getting anything done since their attention was subtly focused on the entertainment going on with the guards. It was just beginning to become enjoyable when one of the stock spied Praff's rather distinctive purple scarf, and quick whispers and groans were passed around the field. One would think a recorder wouldn't be such a feared beast, but Praff had earned both his position and his reputation, and he was to be obeyed without question.
  Morgyn stood still with the rest of his comrades in response to the command, eyes downcast and head lowered to avoid undue attention, but he couldn't help glancing up just once to see what the weasel was going to do, and the one look sealed his fate as his eyes met Praff's. The squirrel froze at the look of recognition in the recorder's eyes, shoulders slumping in defeat as his gaze was dropped like the unimportant scrap it was, and the weasel moved towards him. The request for his paws was met without protest and Morgyn watched as he was inspected and then seemingly forgotten in favor of the much more interesting dirt he'd been working on. From anybeast else on the island, to be glanced over and then forgotten would be a relief, but somehow, when Praff did it, it made him feel all the more small and vulnerable, especially because he knew the weasel had not forgotten.
  Morgyn brushed himself off and quietly regained his composure while Praff dealt with the other problems he'd caused, glancing up as his name was mentioned in relation to the job of fixing the fence. He grinned. Carpentry was a task he'd always enjoyed, and even something as basic as this was a welcome change to bending over in the dirt. Best of all, they wouldn't have Cuffa standing over them while they did it.
  The squirrel grinned at Nibble and rolled his shoulders a few times before he nodded.
  "Perfectly. What about you? Sustained any injuries from Dartur's handling?" Morgyn's smile grew slightly wider and he lowered his voice so only the mouse could hear. "Or from the post?"
  A quick wink and an appreciative nudge, then the beast turned to the rest of the field and selected a few helpers from among the stock.
  "Abe, Elm, come give us a paw. Let's get the old stump out while we wait for the new post."

[Dannflower Reguba]

       Praff answered without breaking stride, tilting his head to grin wryly at the deflated Cuffa, "Why marm, is company so despisable you would shun even your own kind? Come, we have new stock to account for and... whip into shape, as it were." Truth be told, he just wanted to avoid back to back incidents while the woodlanders replaced the fence. Spreading the she-weasel's particular brand of subjugation around had seemed to work better than past records of her more static placements and activities by the leadership that preceded him. He theorized that this was due, both to the reduction in burden on fieldworkers when Cuffa moved away from their field, along with the threat of her arriving in less productive fields prompting the woodlanders to work harder in an attempt to prevent being 'targeted'. As it turned out, now was as good a time as any to shift her out of position, and so he carried on towards the temple expectantly.

*****

       Nibble ducked for a second, as if to dodge glances from vermin that clearly couldn't have heard the squirrel's words anyway. Placing a paw over his chest, the little mouse looked up at Morgyn with a look somewhere between incredulous and abashed, "No need ter bloomin' scare tha socks off'a beast like tha' ya big.... big!-fluffy... tail..." Nibble was not especially good at being even mildly perturbed by his fellows, and the wind slackened from his bluster almost immediately, "T-tis' nothin', really." Following the more assertive of the pair, he found himself examining the squirrel's back with a light paw, soon giving his clothing a gentle tug. Waiting for the beast to turn, he held up some faded yellow-orange flowers, "I'm almost outta arnica, but she got ya pretty good, n' if my cycles are right, sum'ore should be budding soon. Remember, mash tha flowers, mix with a lil' fresh mud, an' keep those layers thiiin. Don't want those wee, dirt saucers rippin' out ya fur when they cracks tomorrow." Remembering himself after speaking for such an abnormally long time while on duty, Nibble's eyes darted around, making sure the guards hadn't found some new peeve to take out before finishing his comment, even quieter than before, "Ah'll try ter get aroun' to do it for ya later tonight, but I 'ave a feeling that may nay be so easy." He buried the shovel tip into the side of the already existing hole alongside his final words, starting the process of loosening the broken wood still in the ground.

[JazzOfRedwall98]

Cuffa's shoulders relaxed. In all honesty, she was unsure what else she had been expecting aside from some sort of punishment for causing a stir. It was all too natural for a beast as cruel as Cuffa to expect such treatment back. Praff was soft, she thought. All the bookish sorts were, in her mind. And yet, it was their brains that saw the island's success against that Southsward place, much to her chagrin.

In a rather bold display, her way of establishing a bit of dominance over the younger male, Cuffa clasped him roughly on the back as they left the other guards and slaves behind.

"Well, ain't I a lucky beast, eh?" she snickered. "Say, Praff, ye ol' scribbler, when's the next time I get t'give a beast the chop? Been a while, and me blade's a bit parched, heh."


---


Sallow also found himself calming down now that one of the madder beasts on the island had gone. He glanced over at Morgyn and his growing group of helpers. Wanting to make up for his cowardice, he slowly shuffled over, clearing his throat.

"...Need an extra set o' paws?"

[shisteer of nothing much]

  Morgyn took the offered flowers gratefully, quickly slipping them into a pocket before one of the guards noticed the exchange. He dug his own spade into the ground, hiding a wince behind words of thanks.
  "I don't know how you manage to get stuff like that, Nibble. I'd be skinned alive if I was ever caught harvesting herbs, or anything, for my own use."
  The clearing of a throat behind him gave Morgyn a good excuse to wait before he used his spade again, and he turned to the otter behind him as the beast offered to help. Morgyn nodded, offering his spade to the beast.
  "That would be great, actually. Here, if you and Nibble can get under the post and lever up, then I'll pull and it should come out without too much trouble."

[JazzOfRedwall98]

The otter grinned, nodding and making his way over the post. He looked around for the one called Nibble. Sallow's gaze fell upon the tiny mouse, and he could not help a slight chuckle.

"Well, there's a beast tha' looks like a Nibble," Sallow said, joining the digging mouse. A mole Sallow was not, but his claws were as good a tool as any for tearing up loose soil. He knelt down, tossing back pawfuls of earth, clearing the way for Nibble whenever he could. Every once in a while, Sallow would test to see if the wood was loose enough.

"Sturdy thing..." the otter commented. "Nearly there, though."

[The Skarzs]

OOC: So sorry for the wait. The holiday celebrations are over now.

BIC: Dartur poked disinterestedly at the smear on his tunic, listening to the little weasel who had come upon them. An icy dagger of fear pierced his heart. Would his ma and pa be mad if he got dirty again? Maybe. . . But he wasn't that dirty, was he?
  The mention of the docks drew his attention. Yes! They would need help there, lots of supplies and food and stories. With a wide grin on his face, he turned to the direction of the docks. "You're a good un, Mister Praffer, er, yeah. . . I'm gonna go see if'n I can help there!" He stumped off, with the guard following behind him a few paces back.



  Kurlan watched the temple as they drew near, stone walls scarred by seaborn storms and bleached by the sun. In the crevices where the light did not touch, a green scum grew along the paths where rainwater naturally flowed. Slaves had placed those stones seasons upon seasons in the past, and it was obvious it has not been built with love.
  As the group nearest the foreboding structure, his vantage point grew higher, and he could see the whole side of the island, and, across a short straight, another rocky spit with some buildings dotted upon it like the nests of seabirds on a barren coast. Judging by the position of the sun, Kurlan figured where east was, and he looked for what could be seen. Out across the open waters, however, there was nothing, no sign of the mainland, no sails to mark the horizon, and in the blue sky there hardly seemed to be a single bird.
  The young sea beast nearly fell on top of a mouse who had tripped in front of him, and he swiftly dragged him back into his footpaws to avoid being trampled or targeted by waiting guards. Once he was certain the mouse would be fine, Kurlan turned his attention back to the sea. Somewhere, out there, his ship had been attacked. Somewhere, his father was either laying dead on the bottom of the ocean, or scouring the waves looking for him. He would need to hold out and escape, even if all hopes for outside aid were for naught.

[Dannflower Reguba]

       Praff caught himself, rescuing his dignity from the half-stumble thrown into his gait by his more muscled companion. He sighed quietly, all too familiar with this silly game of power and hierarchy, though, the sigh was punctuated with a note of amusement. Trudging on, he replied without turning to face the other weasel once again, "So you'd like to 'give a beast the chop' as you say hmm? Well, such is more than easy enough to arrange, though-" he turned himself, walking backwards to maintain their pace as he addressed Cuffa with great intention, "-Whether you next wet your blade under the fur of a woodlander or the scales of a fish will be a result of your behavior." The penpusher grinned, a soulless, uncaring smile of abject honesty matched with his indifferent, if only mildly entertained gaze, the modest quill with which he was so often associated now transformed into a threatening gavel. Fish on the island were handled on the dock and piers, a very wet location to work, and on this island, wet meant cold. Worse yet, there were few slaves to order around, the only expectable companionship available down by the water being the stench of the fish, and the former pirate sea rats that oversaw the gathering and cleaning of this alternative food source, a station utterly unfit for any proud weasel of Baldoshi. The facade slipped back into place just as quickly as it had dropped, the paltry, fickle light of false altruism casting its' familiar shadow over his expression as the weasel returned to 'normal'. Offering a longer, more sociable smile of alleged appreciation, he turned the same way as before, completing a full rotation as he faced frontwards again, his voice practically dripping with sarcastic pleasantry, "I look forward to assigning you a block to blooden this next cull miss Cuffa!" The little back and forth between the pair had proved an adequate passer of time, the temple looming up before the both of them.

*****

       "Nice thing abou' flowers, grasses n' the like is most a' tha guards don't know they do anything valuable." Acting as requested, Nibble drove his shovel deep, soon rewarded with the feeling of the taper in the post, meaning he had purchase. Leveraging all of his mild weight, he leaned back as best he could, shifting from side to side in an attempt to dislodge the stubborn wood from its' static position. He couldn't help a soft chuckle at Sallow's words, "Heh, yea, pretty sure 'twas a joke from one o' the vermi's way back when, 'ad that name too long to know fer sure meself, n' 'ey, a laugh from one ah them is a blister off one o' us aye?"

[JazzOfRedwall98]

Sallow frowned. He had not meant to remind the poor mouse of such things, even inadvertently.

"Oh, erm, apologies, matey," said Sallow, his cheeks burning. "...You've...really been 'ere that long?" He felt the wood start to give way, and he aided the mouse in lifting it out. Still, the though of living on the island for seasons on end was, arguably, more terrifying to the young otter than being slaughtered and eaten. To see so many disappear and die was a horror Sallow wished on no beast, not even the weasels.


---


Cuffa was pleased with herself as she watched Praff fight to keep his up-right stance. He was quick to recover; she had to give him that. Still, she could not resist a devilish smirk revealing her yellowed teeth. As Praff looked at her again, she brought up a claw and pretended to be picking out old bits of food, a good excuse as any for her to be exposing her fangs the way she was. But then he threatened her with dock work...

Cold, damp air, fish that did not scream as they were gutted, the stench of sea rats and no slaves? The bridge of Cuffa's nose wrinkled. Behave? Did he think of her as one of the woodlanders? Her paw twitched, wanting to become a fist. She managed to resist it. The last thing she wanted was for him to see how badly his words affected her.

"...Right," she said in a low voice, feeling the heat of the sun disappear as she entered the temple's shadow. "Somebeast loud, aye? I want the whole island to hear it."

It was not a threat, simply another attempt at control. She expected him to keep his cool, as any "bookie" would. Still, her pride would not allow her to remain silent, not to some younger beast.


---


Perhaps this is where they're keeping us? At least until they decide what to do with us... Damsey stared up at the temple with a furrowed brow. If only she had someone around to bounce ideas off of. Her first impression with the others had not gone well, and the regret was starting to hit her. She could not help her outbursts. She was a haremaid of action, not fluffy conversation.

Absentmindedly, she brought a paw to the kerchief belonging to her dear mother, Purslane. Though she had no business being on a vile island such as this, Damsey wished that she were by her side, doing the job of rapport while she led the charge during the escape. Now that Damsey thought of the harewidow, she could not help but wonder how she was doing. Had she eaten yet? It might have been lunchtime back in Loamwell. Damsey could picture it now: delicious brown nutbread with a spread of damson jam, fresh, crispy salad, greensap cheese and onion pasties...

Groooowl...

Damsey blushed, slapping a paw over her stomach, her eyes darting.