Riddles on the Sea (the slow RP)

[Osu]

(Discussion/OOC thread here.)

Sergeant Otto of the Long Patrol rarely found himself surprised by life's little ups and downs. The grizzled veteran had run around the tree more than once (as the saying goes) and knew better than to expect the world to bow to his personal situations or demands. Elation and disappointments came and went, each as insignificant in the big picture as the next. Never one to dwell on the bad times, Otto found it easy -- perhaps easier than others -- to roll with the punches and step back into the fray.

But this was just a bit much, he thought wryly.

Redwallers, Long Patrol hares, and visiting creatures from surrounding Mossflower and abroad were running hither and thither across the Abbey lawns, attempting to rescue the remains of a special afternoon tea from an unexpected -- and quite unwelcome, to more than one creature's mind -- torrential downpour. Adults shouted orders as they ferried dishes between the orchard and the main abbey building, attempting to protect their prizes from the rain all while fighting to stay upright against strong gusts of wind and dodging squealing dibbuns, many of whom thought the storm was great fun and made it their business to jump in rapidly deepening puddles and trip unwary adults. Anybeast attempting to restore order or organize the mad dashes across the lawns was either drowned out in the storm, tripped up by a young one, or simply ignored entirely.

Otto belonged to a bedraggled group of animals set on corralling the dibbuns and locking them safely inside; it was much harder, the gruff sergeant decided, than attempting to round up a wayward drove of hares. As he snatched up a squeaking little ottermaid Otto very nearly tripped over a shrewnurse who had been stooped directly behind him, dragging a wailing mole dibbun out of what appeared to be a tiny, dibbun-sized swamp in the middle of the lawn.

It was that time of season when Spring has only just begun its battle for dominion over the land of Mossflower, and life everywhere felt as if it were beginning anew. Although Winter could still be felt with its icy touch in the occasional biting wind or frost-bitten night, the new season had been steadily winning out in the timeworn turn of seasons. This battle of the seasons was not without clashes; the advent of spring brought with it storms that flashed out of seeming nowhere, many as short as they were violent, alarming and beautiful at once.

Or in this case, annoying. Otto had been looking forward to a lovely Tea in the orchard on a lighthearted spring day.

Fortunately, where authority and military precision failed the preference to be in a dry building with good food won out. Afternoon tea was saved quickly and with relatively little bother -- mostly -- and creatures crowded inside Great Hall to wring out sodden clothes and rub their fur dry with soft barkcloth towels while others reset the tables in Cavern Hole. Babes squeaked and wailed alternately as they were herded up to the infirmary to be given a quick scrub-down and redressed with dry smocks.

Outside the walls of Redwall Abbey, the storm began to sputter and mellow, losing its sudden ferocity and becoming something more of a drawn-out shower. Looking out the domed colored windows, Otto thought the creatures of Redwall would likely be staying inside for some time.

Ah, well. It's not like there was never something to do at Redwall.

[Redwaller]

Lauria Wharsley sat on the sill of one of the stained-glass windows up in Great Hall. People were amazed at her climbing skills. She won every climbing contest, and could even climb in some places where even squirrels couldn't go because of her small size. Some beast said that she was a squirrel which had lost the fur on her tail, and some said that her mother had been a squirrel; she didn't mind the rumours that went back and forth in the Abbey. She knew she was just a mouse that could climb better than others. Her skill could be very helpful whenever she wanted to be alone. And today was a day like that; the rain always made her long for the sun to come out again so she could go out onto the green lawns, and watch the clouds dance in the sky with the birds.

Soon it would be her birthday, and she hoped the sun would come out to celebrate it, as she did on the Summer Solstice. But there was no sign of clearing up, and she was getting bored. She looked down at the book lying open on her lap. She was reading an account of Matthias the Warrior's journey to rescue Mattimeo and his friends down into the depths of Malkariss' Realm. She began poring into the book, but she lacked attention, and just looked at the pages blankly. Seeing that reading was impossible, she closed the book and leaned her head back against the wall, looking up. She was staring up at the wooden rafters, when something caught her attention. She got up to have a better look, and saw that a small stone tablet was stuck between two rafters.

She climbed up nimbly and caught the stone tablet. She got down back onto the windowsill and looked at the closely packed writing hastily scraped onto the stone.

For treasure, shiny and gold,
This is what's foretold.

Look to the west,
Head to the sea,
The first part of your quest,
Stop by a mountain for tea.

For treasure, shiny and gold,
Remember what you're told.

Head out upon the waves,
In what boat, I cannot help,
Straight west, for a ways,
Find an island and one who dresses in kelp.

For treasure, shiny and gold,
These actions will unfold.

He will be your guide from here,
Listen closely to his speech,
Watch out for a buccaneer,
Until you step onto the warm beach.

For treasure, shiny and gold,
You're halfway there, the danger's twofold.

What could it mean? She quickly climbed down and hurried away to tell her friends.

[W0NWILL]

"C'mere, ye varmint!" Zoa scooped up the little squirrelbabe, bundling him close to her, "Ye little runmedown vermin!"
The squirrel didn't much enjoy being hauled inside when there was puddles and rain to play in, "Lemme go!" He shouted, squirming in her grasp.
"Oh, no!" She said, lifting him with trembling arms firmly onto her shoulders. It would be good to get stronger so she could lift dibbuns more easily, she reflected. That's the only useful thing strength does around here. Why, when she was still in the Tulip Hills, strength and agility were life!
"Hoy!" She called up to the dibbun, "Leggo me ears!"
"I try, but the wind keeps blowing me off!" The squirrelbabe gave her ears and extra tug and blamed it on the wind.
Zoa gritted her teeth, making sure to not whack the dibbun. It was hard.
The two of them reached the big doors that ushered them into the dryness of the abbey. The slammed shut with the wind the moment that they came it, narrowly missing their tails.
The squirrelbabe leaned over her head to see Zoa's eyes, "Thatta close one!" He said.
Zoa's mouth quirked into a small smile and she lifted the young one down. Though she usually hated dibbuns as a rule, she couldn't deny that their antics could be amusing.

Unlike most young hares, Zoa had no wish to join the Long Patrol. She was more than happy living peacefully, and didn't like them at all.



Sir Captain Francis Harper dePerrit was the scourge of the high seas!

"Ah! Don't hurt us, Sir Captain Fracis Harper dePerrit!" The mouse and squirrel shouted, throwing themselves at his mercy.
"Ah, yew quit yer blubbering!" Perrit said, swinging his sword between them.
The two frightened woodlanders quieted as the deadly blade sliced the whiskers from their snouts.
"Alright, yew two!" Perrit said, "I don't want no bellyaching! Get in the boat and you'll be well fed along whi' the o'er slaves."
The two of them headed towards the lifeboat, tears streaming from their eyes at their rotten luck.

A knock sounded at the door, and Perrit hid the dolls behind his back.

Sir Captain Francis Harper dePerrit was the scourge of the high seas!

Or so he liked to think.

[Rainshadow]

  The rain poured down outside, feeling much like small chunks of ice falling from above.  Most beasts would be inside by now, bundling up and placing a pot underneath the holes where the water was dripping through, but there was still one unfortunate beast out in the cold.  Her name?  Ash.

 Ash banged on the small wooden gate once again, her paws feeling like icicles.  She knew they were bleeding from splinters, but she wouldn't stop banging.  "Will somebeast please let me in?!  It's freezing out here!"  She paused for a second, angling her ears in such a way that it would be impossible to miss any noise coming from the other side of the gate.

 After standing like that for about twenty seconds, the wildcat sighed and pulled out her dagger.  She stuck it through the crack in between the gate and the wall, moving the blade up and down until she felt the small latch.  She pulled the weapon upwards quickly, pleased to hear a loud click!  That door was too easy to unlock!  She'd been quite the sneak when she was just a kit, and after fiddling with the locks for a bit, she had taught herself how to unlock them with ease.

 Stepping quickly, Ash made her way to the other side of the gate, shutting and locking it after she'd made it through.  She then sprinted across the abbey grounds and up to a small door she'd discovered seasons ago.  It was a door that led straight to the kitchen.  That would be the best way to enter, she reasoned, seeing as she'd been gone for... six seasons?  Sometime around there.

 The drenched creature opened the door, pulling her hood off her head as she walked through.  She shut it behind her, fighting the urge to shake all the nasty rainwater off of her.  That was something she'd learned from a sea otter in the north.  It would probably not be the best to do here.

 Ash froze in mid thought, realizing that she was being stared at.  A shrew gasped, its eyes wide with shock.  There was a wildcat in the kitchen!  Before the beast could do anything, Ash stepped forward, saying, "Kupika, it's me, Ash.  Could you pass a towel?"  With her jaw practically lying on the floor, the shrew, Kupika, picked up a towel from its rack, handing it to the half-drowned cat.

 Ash nodded her thanks, rubbing herself vigorously with the towel until her fur stood on end.  Now it was only slightly damp, and she was almost presentable.  It was good enough.  She thanked Kupika once again and walked out of the kitchen, making sure to snatch a hot scone on the way out.  She munched on it as she practically skipped towards Cavern Hole, very excited for afternoon tea.  She was famished!

 The maid was not disappointed when she stepped in, her tail tip quivering with excitement.  A various assortment of food and tea was in the process of being placed on the long tables, ready to be eaten by an even larger assortment of creatures.  Though, she was slightly surprised to be seeing so many hares at the tables.  Maybe the Long Patrol had stopped for a visit (and some food).  They knew that Redwall's food was the best food in the land, so obviously that would be one reason.

 Ash sat down at one table, choosing a seat near the corner.  She was happy to stay out of the sight of all the peaceful beasts.  No reason why she couldn't enjoy her tea in silence.

 OOC:  If anyone wants to have their character plop down in a chair by Ash, that's fine by me.  I would actually enjoy it, because it would give her something to do.  

  BIC:  Tom, first mate of the Bay's Leaf, knocked on the door leading to the captain's cabin.  After counting to ten, as he always did, the black fox opened the door, stepping into the dry cabin.  He had seen what Perrit did to those who came in without knocking, and the fox didn't find that appealing.  He paused for a moment to wring his tail out, then pulled it inside and shut the door.

  Clearing his throat, Tom began to speak.  "Captain, we may have a slight problem.  The ship has sprung a small leak, and I believe one of the slaves has done it.  We have a crazed hare who seems to think that if he kills us, he will have pleased his parents.  At least, that's what he says.

  "Also," he continued, "the rain refuses to stop, and the crew is starting to complain.  I may have heard young Madra whispering to Farraige about a mutiny if we don't get to land soon.  Would you like me to stop this uprising?"  He was already thinking about what he would do to kill the rat, Madra, if Perrit allowed him to.  Maybe his knife?  Ooh, he could make an example of Madra!  Tom didn't think that Farraige was involved, but the black fox could stop this mutiny before it began if he skinned Madra in front of the rest of the crew.  Yes, he thought, that could work quite well.  That would work wonders with the crew.  I don't think they'd step out of line again.

  With that thought, Tom eagerly awaited his captain's response, but kept all emotion hidden from his face.  All except a small hint of calm and peace.  It was his job as first mate to keep the captain pleased, and it was his job to make sure the captain reacted with a level head.  He failed at that part often.  But, the fox found that he could slightly lower the fury of the ferret if he kept himself calm.  At least, that's what he had assumed.  Who knew what actually went through the captain's head?

[Blazemane]

When Carol the hedgehog walked into the kitchen with a platter laden full of blackberry turnovers, Friar Morro was working away busily at a pot of custard, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he whipped the cream with all of his might.

When the liquid finally started to firm up, he rescued the pot from the stove fire and let out a happy, relieved sigh as he wiped his brow. Now, what was running at the back of his mind? Ah yes, the platter!

"Hey, Carol," he said, turning around. "If you could just put those turnovers on the, er..." Carol, as it turned out, had already rushed away from the kitchens for some reason or another. But the dessert was waiting in a perfect, open spot on a nearby counter. Good. That hedgehog was always an incredibly sensible beast.

Morro noticed a stray bit of custard sauce on his paw, and he wiped it off absent-mindedly onto his apron as he stared back at the counter. Something was decidedly wrong, here. Why did Carol need to bring the turnovers back in? They looked like they had been cooked well enough. Tall and flaky; golden brown crusts; dark, consistent blackberry filling--they even looked like were glistening in the firelight of the kitchen. In fact, so did the platter they were resting on.

Morro suddenly snapped a paw in the air. They were drenched in rain!

As he himself ran out of the kitchens into cavern hole, the sound of the storm showers pattering on the roof became slightly more apparent, and he realized that the noise had been there all along. He berated himself for not picking it out earlier: squirrels, moles, mice, hedgehogs, otters and hares of all ages were already milling about busily in their water-dropped habits, or tunics, or uniforms--salvaging whatever food they could. His food; his responsibility. Confound it all; he loved rain, and he loved even the very unpredictability of spring weather, but did this stuff have to come down on the one day that the Redwallers had all decided to take their afternoon tea outside? 

Morro sped out of the doors into the wind-swept weather and darted around an incoming hare with a squirrel-babe atop her head. "Pardon me, Zoa," he excused himself. His footpaws splashed heedlessly into soaked grass and patches of mud as he made his back to the orchard. When he arrived, he stopped still for a moment and shielded his eyes from the rain to take in the sight in front of him. He was, indeed, quite late. All but one of the outdoor tables had been completely stripped of both food and cloths. The last table had only a collection of beakers, jugs and a small barrel of rosehip cordial waiting on it. Morro jogged up to the Abbey cellar mole with a sigh and helped him lift the barrel. "All those poor, defenseless pastries, and where was I to defend them until now?"

Kormby chuckled at Morro's mock despair. "Hurr, we'm got 'em all furr ee, gurt lazybeest. But ee cin help oi with this'n."

Morro was huffing by the time he and Kormby made it inside. "Ho. Woo. Ho, ho ho. What say we just get this barrel down the rest of the way to the cellars by kicking it down the stairs?"

Kormby glared at him. "Oi'll kick ee doawn ee stairz if'n you be raisin' so much as ee footpaw."

The next moment, a burly-looking otter walked up to the pair. "'Ey, you two need a paw with that?"

"Yes, that sounds--" Friar Morro stopped midsentence as the otter nodded and hefted the barrel over his shoulder. "Good. Good teamwork." When Morro looked towards the doors again, he saw a number of abbeybeasts walking in with their arms full, and one of them was carrying the last tablecloth in an ungainly bundle.

Judging that everything needing doing needed doing no more, Morro made his way towards his kitchens. On his way, he noticed one of the Long Patrol's leaders (now what was this creature's formal title?) by a window. He briefly considered not saying anything to the hare because he wasn't sure if there was a specific way he would want to be addressed, but having looked in his direction long enough, the Friar thought that passing by him without a word would be a lot worse. So he acknowledged the hare with a wave and a smile. "Hello, Otto!"

After he arrived in his warm kitchen, he padded back over to his custard with every intention of getting to work on the trifles for that night's dessert. Then he felt a cold trail of water underneath his footpaws. Being curious, he stared hard at the ground, trying to catch sight of the water against the stone floor and follow to where it led him. He eventually came to a very old, rarely-used door at the back of the room.

"Say," he asked no beast in particular. "Did somebeast actually go out through this door?"

Kupika looked up from a mound of dough she was kneeding. "None went out. Ash came in."

Morro looked at her quizzically and left several moments of silence before he admitted to his confusion. "Ash?"

"Right; Ash."

"I mean... who is Ash?"

"Oh. I didn't remember her at first, either. She's the wildcat."

Morro mocked his own lapse by burying his face in a paw as he finally remembered. "Ash!" Was she the reason there was a floury gap where a scone should have been on the cooking tray by the entrance? There were some things the Friar was keen on noticing.

Morro got to work breaking apart a large sponge cake into manageable pieces and started laying them down into big glass bowls for the bottom layers of the trifles. He stopped when an idea came to him, and he looked over thoughtfully to the tray of scones.

A little while later, he came into Cavern Hole holding the tray in a doubly-folded towl. He looked around, turning about this way and that, and was just about to give up and search in Great Hall, when he finally found her. Walking over to Ash with the scones, he laid the towl down on the table and then put the tray on top of that.

"Please," he said, "have them all. Welcome back to Redwall, Ash."

[W0NWILL]

Perrit's paws curled in a fist on top of the table and shook his head, "Drown the hare." He said, "Then whip Mandra and put him in the hare's place. Make him suffer." Perrit nodded to himself, pleased with his decision. Leaving the dolls on his chair, he stood and herded Tom out of the cabin, making sure to shut the door behind him.

Rain and ferocious winds tugged at Perrit's silks, threatening to tear them from his body. Perrit unsheathed his sword and stood near his cabin to watch Tom carry out his orders.

[Gonff]

OOC: Here we go! I hope it's not too dramatic or badly written.

BIC:
Calanthe was sitting outside under an overhang that came off the gardening shed watching the rain come down. It had slackened off a little bit and she knew she should head inside soon. But since she didn't want to face all the noise and the bustle she continued to put it off. That's when she saw a small figure over by the pond. She stood up to get a better look and discovered that it was a little squirrel dibbun playing in the mud. "He shouldn't be out here." she thought and she started toward him. She was just about to call out to the little one when he jumped into the mud again and, to her great horror, slid down the bank and into the pond. Calanthe ran the last couple steps to the bank and dove into the pond. She saw the dibbun struggling in the water and was able to grab it by its front paw. However, the squirrel's tail weighed her down and, as she was not a good swimmer, kept her from being able to rise to the surface. Calanthe was determined not to let the dibbun go and continued to fight even as she and the young one slowly sunk. The baby began to still in her arms and she herself was coming dangerously close to running out of breath. Suddenly, a shadow passed over her and when she looked up she saw another otter swimming toward her. She held the baby out to him but when he reached her the otter did not take the dibbun but instead grabbed Calanthe and pulled her up with the squirrel in her arms. When they broke the surface Calanthe gulped in air and began to pull herself up the slippery bank. When she finally reached the top she collapsed, unable to move, and laid there with the rain plummeting her. The face of the otter who had rescued her came into view and she saw his lips move. She shook her head and focused on what he was saying.

"...you okay?" he asked.

She nodded as she slowly sat up, "Yes." she replied, "The dibbun?"

"He'll be okay."

She looked around. "Um... where is he then?"

"I handed him off to a very worried badgermum who saw what happened though the window. I think she would have jumped in after him herself if you hadn't beat her to it. He's inside now, where you ought to be. That was a close call."

Unable to answer, Calanthe simply took the otter's outstretched hand and stood up. The two of them started walking toward the Great Hall, him jabbering the whole way. When she reached the door. Calanthe was smothered with towels and questions and was soon to be hustled away upstairs when she realized she had never thanked her rescuer. She looked around for him, but could not see him for all the bodies crowding around her. "I wonder who he is?" she thought, "I've never seen him at Redwall before."

[Osu]

It did not appear to take too terribly long for the Tea to begin anew, for which Otto was immensely grateful. His visits to Redwall in the past had been both rare and short, stopping by while returning from a patrol or simply delivering messages in his days as a young galloper, leaving little or no time for vittlin'. This latest mission involved an extended stay at the abbey for good relations purposes, and now that he was here Otto had no intention of missing even a single bite of that divine Redwall fare.

The old sergeant was snapped out of the beginnings of a food-filled reverie by none other than the Friar himself, who appeared to be leaving the fray outside and returning to the kitchens. He twitched his ears appreciatively at the squirrel's retreating tail, returning his greeting. This Friar was a younger, somewhat unexpected creature to Otto's memory; he often made it his business to know who was supplying the food, largely owing to his sycophantic devotion to eating in general. The last time he had been at the Abbey (somewhere around a score o' seasons back or so) there had been an older, female in the position of friar, though Morro's face was vaguely familiar too. Clearly the squirrel had learned from the best; abbey victuals continued to be as breathtakingly scrumptious as ever. Speaking of, there mightn't be anything left if he didn't get a hustle on and catch a seat at table!

As he was making his way into Cavern hole, Otto barely missed crashing into a rather young-looking mousemaid hurrying in the same direction, having seemingly arrived out of nowhere. "By the fur, young thingummy," he called after her, dancing aside, "the vittles h'ain't goin' anywhere as quick h'as all that!" This was true, he reasoned, because he wasn't there yet, nevermind the other hares and scoffers. It took him a moment to realize where she'd come from  -  he hadn't seen her a moment ago, when he'd been assessing the storm outside the abbey windows  -   and he came to a temporary stop for a glance up at the rafters. He looked back to the window sills, then to the rafters, then turned around to regard the mousemaid incredulously. Since when could mice climb like that?

Once Otto was safely installed in Cavern Hole he made a quick sweep of the available vittles and seating arrangements in that order before picking a table with a clear visual line of the room entirely. Better chance at nabbing something of everything, as well as defending his plate from potential grub-swipers, he thought, and began threading his way toward it. This was a slow-going process; the table was at the other end of the room and Otto made frequent stops to exchange pleasantries with the other creatures there, including Zoa, the only hare present that did not belong to his patrol that he knew of, several squeaking dibbuns, a drenched otter who had been part of a pair that had stepped in from the outdoors far later than any otherbeast  -  what had kept him out there?  -  and the shrewnurse Otto had stumbled upon during the mad dash between orchard and abbey. She required multiple profuse apologies before Otto was able to escape toward his chosen table.

As he came closer, he realized it was already occupied  -  fortunately not by any hares with similar ideas of vittle-hoarding  -  but with an unexpected occupant all the same: a wildcat. This was the second time in short order Otto had been caught by surprise, creatures appearing out of seeming nowhere  -  first the rafter-climbing mousemaid, now a damp wildcat. Redwall would never be a dull place to visit for all these happenings, he thought, and smiled to himself.

When the friar appeared and presented the newcomer with a tray of scones before Otto had made his way halfway through the room, the sergeant decided this table was indeed a winning spot for vittles and mentally congratulated himself as he joined them.

"I say, you chaps, this seat taken?"

[Rainshadow]

  Ash was slightly surprised when the friar walked up to her, offering scones, and she accepted them quite awkwardly.  Running a paw through her slightly tangled headfur, the cat said, "Thank you... Morro, correct?  Sorry if I have your name wrong, it's just that, well, I've been gone for some time..."  She offered an embarrassed smile, taking one of the pastries from the tray.  She had hoped for a bit of privacy, not wanting to meet old friends, but it seemed that it would not be so.

 "I say, you chaps, this seat taken?"

 "Oh!" the maid exclaimed, turning to lay her eyes on a short hare.  "Er, no, it isn't."  She gave another slightly awkward smile, not quite sure she wanted somebeast to sit next to her, least of all a hare.  It wasn't that she didn't like hares, but they were known for eating quite a bit, and this one seemed rather fond of his food.

 This was when Ash realized she'd been staring.  "Um, won't you sit down?  There are quite a few scones here, if you'd like one.  I'm sure that Friar Morro wouldn't mind if you joined us."  She glanced at the squirrel, then looked back at the hare.  She desperately hoped that he wasn't of the chatty type, but most hares she had met were, so she doubted that he'd be quiet.  Still, she didn't want to appear rude, so she tried to hide her nervousness and discomfort with a smile, which might have made her look a bit queasy.

 OOC:  I feel like I'm describing myself when I write about her being antisocial.  

 BIC:  Tom was slightly disappointed at the captain's decision, but he didn't let it show.  At least he still got to make an example out of Mandra, and he was able to dispose of the hare.

 The fox wasn't surprised when the captain removed him from the cabin; not once had he been in there for over a few minutes.  Possibly the longest time he'd spent in the cabin was discussing the fastest way to get to a destination, and that had been for ten minutes at most.  Come to think of it, Tom realized, I don't think I've ever seen the entire room.

 Shaking his head and turning up the collar of his jacket, the fox walked through the torrential downpour, shivering slightly and wincing as he felt small bits of hail hit his head and arms.  As soon as he could, the todd ran below deck to where the slaves were kept.  After his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he let his gaze sweep over the room, searching for the hare.  There!  He stepped over to one corner of the room, wrinkling his nose as he grew nearer to the flea-ridden beast.

 "Up," he said, grabbing the creature by his wrist and pulling him up.  He swiftly took a ring of keys from his belt, placing the correct one in the lock of the slave's shackles.  Unlocking him, Tom stuck the ring back on his belt, half leading and half dragging the hare behind him as he walked back to the main deck.  He was ready to swing his head over the bulwarks and regurgitate the contents of his stomach due to the horrible smell coming from the hare, but he refrained, worried that he might let go of the creature.  Who knew what the captain might do if he let a slave loose?

 Dragging the hare to the bow, he called out to a stoat that had been walking nearby.  "You, sailor, come here!"  He gestured with one paw for the beast to hold the slave, and as soon as the stoat had a firm grip, the todd picked up a long piece of rope and tied it around the hare's waist.  Using a special knot, Tom tugged on it to make sure it wouldn't come loose.  "There," he said, smiling.  "We wouldn't want it to come loose, now, would we, Anije?"

 The stoat giggled, nodding.  "Oh, no sir, we wouldn't wanna do dat."

 Tom nodded, tying the other side of the rope to the railing on the bow.  By this point, he had guessed that the hare knew what was going to happen.  He was starting to squirm in Anije's grip.  "Lemme go!" he cried, biting the stoat with what few teeth he had left.

 Anije let out a shout, dropping the hare as he clutched his forearm.  "'E bit me!  'E bit me!"

 The hare attempted to run off, but apparently didn't realize that he was tied to the ship.  Grabbing a hold of the rope, Tom slowly pulled the creature back, thankful that he was too weak to fight back.  Then, without a second thought, the fox grabbed the slave by the waist and heaved him over, shouting, "You, my friend, have just been keelhauled!"

 After this, Tom passed the stoat, who was still rolling about on the deck, tears streaming down his face.  Or maybe that was rainwater, but knowing Anije, it was most likely tears.  Stepping quickly, the fox once again pulled his collar up, wishing that the rain would let up.  He stopped just under the crow's nest, calling out, "Madra, are you up there?"

 "Ahoy, Tom!" the rat answered, sticking his head out from his perch.  "Wotcha need me for, mate?"

 "Could you come down here for a moment?" the todd shouted, holding a paw out to try and block some of the rain, which was practically flowing sideways.

 "Sure!" Madra replied, climbing about halfway down the rigging before jumping off, landing in front of the first mate.  "Yessir?"

 "Wait here for a moment please, Madra," Tom replied, smiling at the rat.  He jogged over to the bell designated to gather the sailors and rang it, calling out for the crew to assemble.  Quickly the main deck was filled with the crew, who didn't look very happy to be standing in the pouring rain.  "Attention, crew!  We seem to have a problem with one member of our family.  Young Madra over there," he waved a paw at the rat at the mast, "seems to have been thinking of mutiny!  Now, you all know how the captain feels about mutiny, of course.  He doesn't take too kindly to it.  And why should he?"

 Walking through the crowd, Tom continued.  "I hope you all know how we deal with mutineers.  I want you two," he pointed at a ferret and a weasel, "to hold our young friend down for a moment."  The pair nodded solemnly and seized the rat by his arms, holding him still.  "You there," the fox pointed at a rat carrying a whip.  "Kindly give me your whip for a moment."  The rat obliged, handing the first mate the weapon.

 Raising the whip above his head, the todd brought it down hard upon Madra's back.  The rat screamed, and continued screaming as Tom dealt him four more.  Five should be enough, the fox thought, handing the whip back to its owner.  He then gestured for the ferret and the weasel to follow him, carrying Madra.  They nodded, and the four stepped down to where the slaves were being kept.  Madra was put in the same seat as the hare, and his wrists were shackled to an oar.

 "Good luck to you," Tom said, nodding to the rat as he climbed the stairs once again, closing his ears to the sound of the young rat's screaming.

 OOC:  Whoa...  I didn't know I could be so cruel...  O_O  (Oh, and if anyone was wondering, keelhauling is basically when they tie someone to the ship and then pretty much run over them.  It's usually meant to be just for giving them cuts, because they'd get scraped by barnacles and such, and they'd take the victim out before they'd drown, but it often kills the victim.)

 P.S.  Sorry for such a long post!  I wanted to get both of Tom's duties done, and I think I got carried away a little...

[Blazemane]

Being no stranger to awkwardness himself, Friar Morro recognized the look that Ash had as she put her paw to the fur at the top of her head. Had she maybe thought that he was trying to make her feel bad for taking the scone when he brought the tray over? That certainly hadn't been his intent. A sheepish half-smile played at his lips as he realized that now he felt hesitant, too.

"Thank you... Morro, correct?  Sorry if I have your name wrong, it's just that, well, I've been gone for some time..."

Morro's smile became much more enthusiastic. "No, you've got it right! Actually..." he said, looking down and picking absentmindedly at his apron, "to be honest, I couldn't fit you to your name when I was told that somebeast named Ash had come through the kitchen. So I'm the one that needs to get things sorted."

Then a rather obvious question presented itself to Morro. What in the world had Ash been doing for all the seasons she had been gone? She must have had some wonderful tales to tell from her journey; even if she were to think they were boring, he wanted to hear them. He wanted to hear about the land outside the walls, as it were.

He was just about to open his mouth to ask her when he heard someone else's voice.

"I say, you chaps, this seat taken?"

Upon seeing Otto (and before Morro could help himself), a memory came to him--a single moment from the previous Friar's many complaints about the gluttony of hares. She had been looking over a devastated cherry crumble which had at one point been cooling on the windowsill alongside three other perfectly-untouched squares. Now this one was sitting on the table below with nothing left but a piece of crust and a small swamp of red syrup lining the pan.

"You know what the difference is between a vermin warlord and a..." she trailed off, and Morro had thought for certain she was going to use the word, "rabbit." "...and at least some hares?" She threw the pan in a sink with a noticeable amount of frustration, and it complained with an unsettling sort of clunk-thump-shatter. "Warlords try to negotiate first."

Morro had secretly thought that the common dynamic between badgers and hares was a part of the reason why the pilfered food always drove her up the wall. But that was before he became Friar. He tried to be patient at first with the disappearing flans and pasties, the diminishing number of kitchen-spoons, the soups that would taste one way when he left and seem to be flavored another way when he came back (or were the hares encouraging Skipper?), and so on, and so on. But when he finally took stock of the extra work it took him to make up for everything that went missing, he decided that he needed a strategy to deal with it all.

...Not that he ever found a strategy after that point. He just knew he needed one.

On the whole, however, the visiting hares of the Long Patrol had conducted themselves with an astounding level of self-control. And it was simply difficult to imagine this highly decorated... corporal? drill sergeant? brigadier? admiral? Otto causing trouble in Redwall's kitchens.

"Um, won't you sit down?  There are quite a few scones here, if you'd like one.  I'm sure that Friar Morro wouldn't mind if you joined us."

"Oh, by all means," Friar Morro finally came back to the conversation with a start, padding over quickly and pulling the chair out himself. "Now, you probably just heard me admitting to Ash that I had trouble with her name, so I may as well extend my confusion to you while it's still obvious that I'm behind on this sort of thing. How do... shouldn't I... how is one of your rank generally addressed, Mr. Otto?"

Even as he asked the question, his gaze ventured over the platter of scones he had laid down on the table for Ash. "My, those do look rather plain without any cream or jam sitting next to 'em. I can get fix that pretty quick."

(This is an incredibly late OOC comment to make, but in my opinion, Rainshadow, long posts are awesome. So whereas you were saying "sorry for such a long post," I just want to say, "awesome!")

[estar222]

James Bonhay had been very surprised when the Abbot had admitted him into the Abbey of Redwall. It was known far and wide that he was a pirate, after all, and rarely is it that you might find a pirate with a 'good heart'.

Regardless, he was enjoying himself vastly in ignoring the abbess' vain attempts to educate him on religion, and scoffing a scone, slathered with cream, jam, and loveliness. To be totally honest, it was just about the best scone he'd ever had, ever. Which is, needless to say, good.

"And so Martin the Warrior-"

"Listen, I really do appreciate your attempts to save my soul from eternal damnation, I do! But, I don't particularly care for faith, and your kind words are not having any effect on my disposition towards sin anyway. I do love this food though." He bit into the scone again, before licking the cream from the fur on his upper lip.

"But-"

"No, no. Hush now, my dear. Your loving goodness is wasted upon me, for though you are a blessed soul, truly, I am beyond help, and beyond caring. Good day." He hurried away, pinching another scone from the table, and rushing out of sight of the abbess.


"Well. I say!" She exclaimed.

"'kind hearted' indeed." She criticised his allowance into The Abbey, before reaching for a bowl, and the ladel with which to get herself some soup.

[W0NWILL]

Extracting the squirrelbabe from her ears, Zoa set him on the floor, "Go and sit with yer little mates, y'little blighter." she told him, then flopped into a seat across from Ash and Otto and rubbed the base of her ears, wincing.
"Dibbuns are worse than vermin." she said honestly, then grinned, "At least they have the decency to tell you that they're torturing you."

[Osu]

"Um, won't you sit down?  There are quite a few scones here, if you'd like one.  I'm sure that Friar Morro wouldn't mind if you joined us."
"Oh, by all means."

"Well don't mind if'n h'I do, thankee both," so saying Otto promptly helped himself to a scone. It disappeared with alarming alacrity and the grizzled veteran had already obtained another when Morro's question registered.

"Bless ye, Friar, y'can call me whatever y'like. Name's Sarn't Donovan Woodscut, but most calls me Otto. H'and may I say, these scones h'are a work of art, sah, nothing better'n Redwall vittles!" And the second scone went the way of the first. Almost at the same time, Zoa, one of the few hares not a part of Otto's patrol, flopped down in a seat across from him.

"Dibbuns are worse than vermin. At least they have the decency to tell you that they're torturing you."

Grinning, Otto toasted this undeniable nugget of truth with a third scone. Casting a surreptitious eye at the plate of treats to ensure he had the better reach over the other hare, Otto added, "makes y'wonder where the little uns get h'all o' that energy. If my Patrollers would exhibit half the amount of tenacity those dibbuns o' yourn do h'I daresay there wouldn't be many vermin left to work mischief, wot?"

He concluded this speech by spiriting away a couple more scones.

[Blazemane]

As Friar Morro watched Zoa join the group at the table, he wondered if the platter of scones he'd set out was going to last them much longer--and that was without anything sweet nearby to help them go down. He still needed to fix that situation.

"Bless ye, Friar, y'can call me whatever y'like. Name's Sarn't Donovan Woodscut, but most calls me Otto. H'and may I say, these scones h'are a work of art, sah, nothing better'n Redwall vittles!"

The squirrel cook looked down at the ground abashedly and smiled. "Oh, no, no. If I'm going to actually call you something instead of nothing, I don't think I could manage to call you by anything outside of your title, Sergeant. As for the scones, I'm glad you like 'em so much. You know, I learned most of what I know from a badger..."

Feeling himself turn red, Morro began to remove himself from the table, but he hesitated to throw in, "Hang on, I'll be back with another plate of scones and some heavy cream and raspberry sauce. Best thing in the world for scones. Ash--I really do mean to ask you about everything you've been doing the past few seasons. I can't wait; just... just give me a moment."

Soon he was back through the door to the kitchen, greeted by the ever-present heat from the fired ovens which waited on the other side of the threshold like a thick curtain. Kupika was whisking a custard sauce, keeping it safe--good. Vegetable broth was still coming to a boil; it's aroma hadn't become strong enough yet. Spinach spread over the floor, bruised and bent from the trampling of workers' paw; he still needed to clean that up from that morning. Sizzling... aggressive sizzling... No, it was alright; Carol was flipping the oatcakes at that very moment, so they'd be fine. What was the problem?

The whistling. That was it. He'd left tea on when he'd gone from the room, knowing that there was usually a need for replacing the pots during Afternoon Tea. How long had this one been ready? No matter, it had absolutely been too long since then. He dashed off to the pot and took it off of the fire, and then he poured a small amount of it into a nearby cup. He sampled it gingerly, trying to avoid burning his tongue. The lack of flavor confirmed his suspicions, and, with a sigh, he leaned out a nearby window, checked to make sure no beast was beneath him and then dumped it all out.

Shaking his head, he set to work restarting the tea, and then he looked around for the heavy cream and raspberry sauce. Sneaking just a little more vanilla and sugar into the cream--being generally a fan of deliberate flavors over alluring subtlety--he headed for the door again.

"Carol, I do still have time on the roasted vegetables for supper, right?"

She replied distractedly, but happily. "Certainly; but you can't be gone for too long."

Not too long. Right. Not too long...

Balancing the cream and sauce in one arm, he grabbed another set of scones with a folded towel and walked back to the table where Ash, Zoa and the Sergeant were talking. Hardly a moment too soon, for he saw that there was only one scone left between them. Good. That made him happy.

"Here you are," he said, laying everything down in front of them. As he did so, he looked at those gathered around. Zoa's tulip was bent askew from its regular position behind her ear, probably because of the squirrel dibbun that had been playing on her head. It still looked fresh and colorful. Otto's latest scone was being held in a paw wrapped with cloth--rugged, dirtied, weathered cloth. Morro wondered how long it had endured its placement; it must have been of strong make. Ash's greying, faded black cloak was still draped over her tunic, obviously no discomfort to a wildcat who'd grown use to its weight being constantly upon her. And the white stones of her necklace didn't stand out against the color of the cloak in any jarring way, for their translucence made them seem faded in their own sort of way.

There was something else which caught his attention--between her tunic and belt, there was an aging piece of folded parchment which seemed to have been carefully protected from the rain outside.

"Actually, Ash, if you don't mind my asking, I already have a question about your travels. Where'd you get that piece of paper?"

[Rainshadow]

  "Oh, this old thing?"  Ash raised her arm, glancing down at the page poking out of her belt.  "Uh, I...  Y'know, I can't actually remember where I found that.  It was quite some time ago..."  She carefully pulled the small scrap of paper out from between her belt and tunic, wiping a bit of rainwater off of it.

  Taking a scone from the tray, the wildcat simultaneously munched on the pastry and unfolded the parchment, curious as to what was on it.  The note had been wedged in that spot for long enough that she'd forgotten what it was about.  Possibly a poem?

  After struggling for a moment with the parchment, Ash sighed and set down her scone, wiping her slightly sticky paw on her soaked tunic.  Then, flicking the water off, she took a corner of the page and opened it up, muttering, "Finally."  Then, glancing up to Morro, she asked, "Uh, you wanna know what's on it?"

  She realized it was a stupid question as soon as the sentence left her mouth, and the she-cat gritted her teeth slightly.  "Er, you probably do want to know, so I'll just... I'll read it.

  "For treasure, shiny and cold...  No, sorry, that's gold, not cold."  Ash blew on the damp ink, trying to dry it a bit.

  "For treasure, shiny and gold,
  This is what's... foretold.

  Cook...  No...  Look to the west,
  Head to the sea,
  The first part of your crest...  Ah, sorry, quest, not crest.
  The first part of your quest,
  Stop by a mountain for tea.

  For treasure, shiny and gold,
  Remember what you're told.

  Head out upon the... waves?  Yes, waves.
  Head out upon the waves,
  In what boat, I cannot help,
  Straight west, for a ways,
  Find an i... island and one who dresses on... sorry, in kelp.

  For treasure, shiny and gold,
  This... no, these actions will untold.  Oh, unfold, not untold.

  Me...  He will be your guide from here,
  Listen closely to his scr- speech,
  Watch out for a bu...bucc...buccaneer,
  Until you stop- er, step onto the warm beech.  Beach!  Beach, as in sand.  Not tree.

  For treasure, shiny and gold,
  You're halfway there, the dagger's twofold.  Danger.  Danger's twofold."

  Ash scowled at the riddle, willing the letters to be easier to read.  But, as they were simply letters, they did nothing.

  "Sorry," she said, embarrassed, "do you want me to read it again?  I think I get the meaning now.  It's just... uh, damp.  Hard to read."  She dare not say that her reading skills were getting rusty, for fear that she would get sent back to Abbey School.  Those were the worst seasons of her life.