Abject Idiocy ((Enon, open))

[Django]

Admittedly, this had probably been one of his worst ideas ever. None of his previous bad ideas had ever really come close. Nope, this was the one to top them all. Yup, he was an idiot. An utter moron. And dangling by his ankles from a tree was not helping improve his mood.

Django the mouse watched the world sway gently. The trees dangled down from above and the birds swooped below them. Upside-down was a bit of a nauseating position to be in, but he'd already lost everything twice. How could he have been so stupid? Leaving Redwall was dumb in the first place. Leaving Redwall without telling anybeast was even dumber. And leaving Redwall without telling anybeast and only bringing a staff (which he only had a vague idea how to use) for a weapon was quite possibly the dumbest thing he'd done. . . Today, at least.

Knowing him, he'd do something even stupider tomorrow. But that was beside the point. Django heaved a sigh and craned his neck up, (or was it down?) to watch the freaky little green-painted creatures gathering around a campfire. They spoke in a clipped, indecipherable language, but Django had gathered that they didn't really like him. What were they, anyway? Some kind of dwarf rats? All he'd heard was, "We d'Flitchaye!" shouted over and over again among some other eardrum-shattering syllables.

Feeling slightly light-headed, the spotted mouse returned his neck to a more comfortable position and tried working at the bonds around his wrists. Nasty little buggers sure knew how to tie a knot, didn't they? Django flinched as a small green dart grazed his arm. He craned his neck back again, only to be met with the hard, upside-down gaze of one of the rats. Smiling sheepishly, the mouse stopped fidgeting.

"Uh, afternoon," he said nervously. The rat slapped him with the hard, hollow tube of a blowgun, berating him in the clipped tongue. Django winced and brought his head back down, wondering how in hell's teeth he was going to get out of this one.

[nikki]

Pipkin Quickharvest was a proper chubby dormouse, but like most of his kind this did not prevent him from being an excellent climber. Oh, he was no tree-bounding squirrel, to be sure, but the traveler knew his way around a few branches.

Which was why, when he say the odd little pack of painted vermin, the dormouse decided the best way to investigate the situation was from above. It was the work of a few moments for him to stow his staff against his back and scramble into the trees; from there it was merely a matter of stepping from bough to bough and twig to twig to get a bit closer.

Of course, he nearly fell out of the tree when he realized the fuss was at least partly about a dangling mouse.

Pipkin winced as one of the creatures - rats, it seemed, Flitchies or some such - struck the young mouse. Now really - no way to treat a guest!

With the rat that close, and so many of them below, there was unfortunately little he could do. But the little brutes had to sleep sometime, didn't they?

Of course, if they tried to harm the youngster before then, he would have to try to intervene. No telling how that would go, depending on whether any friendly birds were nearby, but Pipkin would have to try.

For now, he discreetly moved to where the spotted mouse could see him. Perhaps if the poor fellow knew help was at paw, he'd have a bit of hope.

[Kenyon]

Enon was having a good day. She was dusty and tired, sure, but it was Flitchaye territory and they were starting a fire. Normally, the little weasels were in their burrows this time of day-- they greatly preferred nighttime attacks on their unsuspecting prey. This band was unusually far south, out of their native pine forests they were close to Redwall. That was what she’d come to rectify. Enon wadded up a damson leaf and plugged her nostrils, grimacing at the smell. Better that than breathing in the smoke and becoming a prisoner herself.

She set herself, checking her weapons one last time. Drawing the dirk, she placed it between her teeth and waited.

“Flitchaye! Flitchaye! We de Flitchaye! Flitchaaaye!!”

As the shouting rose in pitch Enon rose from where she lay, firing rapid fire into the camp. As her quiver neared depletion she charged, teeth bared, dirk in paw. Her own special warcry sped the fleeing vermin on.

“Eulaaaliiiiiaaa! ‘Tis death!”

[Django]

As Django was in the process of wondering what would become of him, he noticed a face in the trees nearby. Great, now he was seeing things. Oh, gods, if he survived this he'd never leave the abbey again. Well, not without telling somebeast, at least. Shutting his eyes tightly, he let out a quiet moan as a migraine began to throb in his head. Wonderful day, this was.

He opened his eyes and saw that the face in the trees was still there. He glanced back at the little green rats dancing around the campfire and then turned back to the face. It looked like some kind of mouse, perhaps. He hoped he wasn't imagining things. Then again, he was weary, and he'd been hanging upside-down for who-knew-how-long.

Maybe he should try to do something about his bonds again? With much effort, he doubled over, lifting the upper part of his torso so his head was now level with his hips. His abdominals screamed in protest, and he dropped back again, swinging wildly. A most ungentlemanly curse left his mouth. One of the rats was beside him suddenly, swatting him harshly with her blowgun. This did little to stop his swinging, but she halted him finally by grabbing his tunic roughly.

"Could ye do me a favor an' kill me now?" he asked, his vision still swinging despite his now stationary position. "I gotta tell th' abbot wot I done. I'd like t' miss 'at, if ye don't mind."

“Eulaaaliiiiiaaa! ‘Tis death!”

Django was jostled and shoved aside as the herd of tree rats began to scream and flee around him. "Whoa, gods!" he cried, shutting his eyes tightly. If the rats were running, it was not a good thing. It would be wise of him to think about getting out of the ropes, now. Like, right now! He lifted himself up again, ignoring the strain on his abs, and tried to get his teeth around the ropes holding his knees together. He wasn't amazingly flexible, so it was all he could reach.

But he stopped his gnawing on the ropes in utter shock when he saw the black squirrel laying into the green rats like no tomorrow. "Hey!" he called out, simultaneously losing his hold on the cords. "Whoa!" he dropped back upside-down, his world swaying.

[nikki]

"Great seasons!"

Pipkin's surprise was complete when the black squirrel came charging in. No time to sit there staring though - if nothing else, the little savages might try using their mouse captive for leverage. Couldn't have that.

With surprising agility the dormouse flung himself forward through the branches, making his way for the bough here the mouse was suspended and laying about with his quarterstaff as he went to deter the Flitcheaye from approaching. Django's bough swayed heavily as the chubby little warrior landed on it. Pipkin took a moment to steady himself before leaning down.

"Look sharp now, I'm going t'hook the bonds on your wrists an' haul you up, so keep steady as y'can. Bein' topside up'll do a little beast a world of good, I think."

Suiting deed to word, the dormouse reached out with his staff to snare the bound wrists, hauling back to bring the mouse up. All the while keen black eyes surveyed the situation below, ready to defend.

"I'll try not to drop you, friend, but goin' to have t'guard us both, see? No fear, I'll have you up an' then down soonin either case."

[Kenyon]

Soon enough, it was over, the little band fleeing north, the only avenue of escape left to them. The black squirrel returned to the small clearing, scattering the herb pots that sat beside the fire and snorting the ransom leaves from her nostrils. She spat, ridding herself of the lingering taste, though the smell lurked heavily in her nose still. It had proven a needless precaution, none of the little weasels had lit the herbs that sent beasts so quickly into slumber.

Enon bared her teeth and spat again, ignoring the little excitable dormouse in the tree. If he and his companion wanted to come down they would. She busied herself finding survivors and dragging them away from their dead fellows. In the end she had not even a scant pawful of groaning and moaning weasels tied near the fire. She kicked the biggest green-painted weasel, chattering angrily in her northern brogue.

“Ye, flitchaye! Wot are ye doin’ in Mossflower country?”

[Django]

"Look sharp now, I'm going t'hook the bonds on your wrists an' haul you up, so keep steady as y'can. Bein' topside up'll do a little beast a world of good, I think."

Django groaned slightly as the world went every which way. "I don't think I know th' meanin' a' th' words topside up ennymore," he replied wearily. Letting out a cry of pain as he was deposited on the tree limb, the spotted mouse hoped he hadn't just landed into more trouble.

"I'll try not to drop you, friend, but goin' to have t'guard us both, see? No fear, I'll have you up an' then down soon in either case."

"Thanks, mate," Django muttered, trying to keep his balance on the limb. "But if ye don't mind--that is, if ye've gorra knife on ye. Would ye cut me loose?" And quit yappin' about up's and down's. It was starting to make him feel sick again.

Down below, the bound Flitchaye glared up at the black squirrel, baring his teeth. He shouted of a stream of incoherent syllables at her. Most of which resembled threats of some kind. All in all, it was something to the effect of, "Dees d'Flitchaye trees! D'Flitchaye git d'trees first! Nobeast but d'Flitchaye have mosstrees!"

And then he clammed up after a few more insulting sounds, refusing to speak further.

[nikki]

"Thanks, mate," Django muttered, trying to keep his balance on the limb. "But if ye don't mind--that is, if ye've gorra knife on ye. Would ye cut me loose?"

Pipkin nodded.

"That I do. What's y'r name, friend? Pipkin Quickharvest is mine... looks like th'squirrel took care of th'little savages, so we'll keep you still an' cozy t'get bearings."

He withdrew a small knife from within his still-worn haversack, slicing carefully at the mouse's bonds. Once the captive was fully freed Pipkin sat beside him to help him balance, gently rubbing the unbound paws to help restore circulation.

"Huh, funny sorta rubbish y'got here. How'd y'get mixed with that lot?"

Still tending to the mouse, Pipkin called down to the squirrel.

"Ahoy, marm! How d'you fancy stringin' 'em up like they had our friend here til they want to speak up?"

[Kenyon]

"Dees d'Flitchaye trees! D'Flitchaye git d'trees first! Nobeast but d'Flitchaye have mosstrees!"

Enon bared her teeth in a soundless snarl, thrusting her twisted face close to the Flitchaye's. He seemed to be reconsidering his stance as she chattered fast in his own tongue. It wasn't long before she straightened, knocking him over sideways with a vicious kick.

"Dees'a my trees! Nobeast but I have mosstrees!" she chattered again in their fast, clipped language.

"Ahoy, marm! How d'you fancy stringin' 'em up like they had our friend here til they want to speak up?"

She turned, slightly irritated with the interruption. "Look, mouse, I'm not here to see that they 'speak up.' I'm here to deliver a bloomin' message!" She pointed at the small group at her footpaws.

"D'ye really want this lot this close to Redwall? I don't. So unless ye have any better bloody ideas...?"

[Django]

"That I do. What's y'r name, friend? Pipkin Quickharvest is mine... looks like th'squirrel took care of th'little savages, so we'll keep you still an' cozy t'get bearings."

Get his bearings? Easier said than done. "Django," the spotted mouse replied, slowly sitting upright on the tree limb as Pipkin cut him loose. "Most folks call me Jan."

"Huh, funny sorta rubbish y'got here. How'd y'get mixed with that lot?"

Django rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze. "Ah, s'long story, mate," he said sheepishly. "Less jus' say it weren't in me bes' int'rist t'be wanderin' about alone, eh?" Oh, the abbot was going to drown him in chores for a month.

His interest was captured by the black squirrel down below. Wait, was she . . . talking with the green rats? What good would that do? The little savages understood one concept: loud. And dirty, so that was two concepts. Buggers were brighter than he thought. Still a bunch of rude cretins, though.

"D'ye really want this lot this close to Redwall? I don't. So unless ye have any better bloody ideas...?"

Wait, what?! Django looked alarmed. She wasn't gonna kill 'em, was she? Seemed kind of drastic to him. But if he spoke up, it might seem odd, since he had been their victim, after all. Oh, that's right, they'd been about to kill him. Suddenly, when their lives were on the line, it didn't seem right.

"I'd shore like t'see th' buggers trussed up like balls a' yarn, eh?" he called down. "Stupid little things don't got no decency." Well, leaving them hanging in the trees wasn't necessarily killing them. There was always the chance they'd find a way free.

[nikki]

"Pleasure t'meet you, Jan." Pipkin beamed at the mouse as he kept rubbing his paws, nodding. "How's that feeling, then?"

"Ah, s'long story, mate," he said sheepishly. "Less jus' say it weren't in me bes' int'rist t'be wanderin' about alone, eh?"

"Oh, I think th'best stories are long ones." He leaned back a bit, at ease on the limb; dormice were natural climbers despite their commonly chubby physiques. Pipkin turned his attention to the squirrel then, perking up at her question.

"Oh, are we close to Redwall?" he asked blithely. He'd had no idea he was so close to the Abbey; his rambling nature had made the journey a rather long one, and he'd had no map nor real directions to guide him once he reached Mossflower. Still - a Redwall meal and a warm bed were at paw, so there was something! "So y'd know of th'swordmouse, eh? I'm a stranger here, but... well, that's a bit off track." He laughed, swinging his footpaws idly. "Anyway, let's hoist 'em up if y've a mind. Put th'fear in th'little monsters, keep 'em clear. Your pardon Jan, but they were smackin' you to an' fro a bit? Maybe y'd like to give a quarterstaff a try once they're all lined up?"

[tenor]

It had already been a good bit of traveling from Timothy Highleap's common grounds near their warren north of the River Moss when Banwurt's younger brother and travel companion had grown suspicious of the directions they had been given. Pausing in their travels, Coltsfoot had sat down to review some scrolls he had the foresight to bring with him to review if what the old squirrel had told them the correct directions to Salamandastron, or he was playing a prank. (Though Banwurt was certain the squirrel only did it for his sister to have her chance at the Long Patrol if that were the case).

While Coltsfoot worked that out, Banwurt went ahead to rummage through the nearby locations for any types of plants he may not be familiar with already, or at least familiar with enough but have not seen other than drawn out in the lore book. As he inspected each bit that caught his eye, he ended up traveling a bit more away from his brother than intended.

“Eulaaaliiiiiaaa! ‘Tis death!”

It had startled the rabbit, brown eyes looking off from where it had echoed from. He was not sure what caused him to quickly head for the direction he head the battle-cry. Perhaps that he knew the term that the old squirrel had told his sister that the Long Patrol used was enough to spur him into hoping that when he found the source, he would finally find her.

Not his luck, however, as he stumbled into the slightly cleared edge of the rather confusing scene for one as a sheltered warren buck (and almost right on top of the bound beasts, paws dramatically out at his sides to stop himself from toppling over added with a rather ungraceful stagger back).

"Oh! Pardon me! I did not mean to interrupt anything!" He was rather taken back by the scene of bound creatures, what he was yet to register as dead, and a rather easily terrifying black squirrel. He had no idea of the two occupying the canopy above them, eyes locked on what he mused was probably the most dangerous beast in the current vicinity.

Curiosity won him at last moment, fretting paws pulling at the sides of his green cloak. "What... have I interrupted, if I may?" One must always be articulate with their words, after all. Though it was taking a bit to keep from an odd urge to stammer.

[Kenyon]

"So y'd know of th'swordmouse, eh? I'm a stranger here, but... well, that's a bit off track." He laughed, swinging his footpaws idly. "Anyway, let's hoist 'em up if y've a mind. Put th'fear in th'little monsters, keep 'em clear. Your pardon Jan, but they were smackin' you to an' fro a bit? Maybe y'd like to give a quarterstaff a try once they're all lined up?"

She eyed the mouse oddly. Apparently she hadn’t made herself clear enough. “I meant to make the lesson more… permament.” She explained, very slowly. Maybe the mouse was a tad slow?

"I'd shore like t'see th' buggers trussed up like balls a' yarn, eh?" he called down. "Stupid little things don't got no decency."

Maybe they were both slow. “Oy, get outta the bloody tree before ye hurt yoreself, Spots.” She pointed to the bound weasels, as if to illustrate a point. “They’re vermin, wot! They havena qualms again’ trappin’ babes, women, men! Makes no difference to th’ savages, wot!” Her curious mix of hare and northern brogue tapered off in surprise as a hare stumbled i—no, wait. That was a rabbit. Suddenly disinterested, she kicked the lead weasel back into position when he tried to wiggle free of the group.

"Oh! Pardon me! I did not mean to interrupt anything!" He was rather taken back by the scene of "What... have I interrupted, if I may?"

“They eat otherbeasts.” She pointed out before answering the rabbit. “Execution. Where did ye come from, rabbit?”

[Django]

“Oy, get outta the bloody tree before ye hurt yoreself, Spots.”

Spots? That was a new one. "As ye say, marm," Django called back. With that, he jumped down from the tree limb, nearly breaking his ankles. But he was a pretty good jumper. Knew how to land, anyway. And the limb had only been a bit higher than he was tall.

"Anyway, let's hoist 'em up if y've a mind. Put th'fear in th'little monsters, keep 'em clear. Your pardon Jan, but they were smackin' you to an' fro a bit? Maybe y'd like to give a quarterstaff a try once they're all lined up?"

Django grinned up at Pipkin. "Love to, mate," he answered. "But I got me own staff. Bloody things pilfered it when they got me. Dunno where they dropped it, though. Was a bit foggy when they was draggin' me 'ere."

“They’re vermin, wot! They havena qualms again’ trappin’ babes, women, men! Makes no difference to th’ savages, wot!”

Django located his staff, leaning up against another tree, and inspected it for damage. "Aye, 'at's true, I s'pose," he murmured in reply. The squirrel then elaborated on her point with her mention of cannibalism. "They wot?" Django was shocked. He hadn't heard that part. He was pretty sure the green vermin were going to do something along the lines of torture or killing to him, but . . . eating him? That was just sick!

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a rabbit. That . . . that was a rabbit, right? He'd not yet seen a rabbit, but he knew what a hare looked like. This creature was hare-like, obviously, with his tall ears and short tail, but it just wasn't a hare. Had to be a rabbit.

"Uh, 'llo, there," he greeted uncertainly.

[nikki]

Pipkin nodded slowly as he listened to the squirrel.

"Ah, I see. Attackin' beasts with no ability t'fight back, that's their way?"

He doubted the squirrel would take his meaning, of course. Those who hunt monsters and all that. The dormouse put his quarterstaff back in its place before descending headfirst down the tree, squirrel-fashion, and hopping down beside Jan. The rabbit's sudden appearance didn't seem to upset him unduly, and he merely smiled and nodded at the newcomer.

"I'd be interested t'know where y'came from as well, but we've matters to tend first." He gave the rabbit a considering look before flicking his thickfurred tail. "P'raps not something for you to attend."

[tenor]

“They eat otherbeasts.”

Well if that was not enough for a rabbit's ears to drop as he stared, brown eyes wide in terror. Already he was curious if, perhaps, he had walked in on the wrong scene.

Then he was addressed by the squirrel, feeling himself naturally pull to attention with her gaze on him.

“Execution. Where did ye come from, rabbit?”

Banwurt hesitated, his paws still circling his cloak's fabric rather uncertainly. His mind did start to wander to darker, more fearful places, spurred by a wild imagination of what the 'outsiders' from his safe warren that his parents instilled in his head. If this were a villain and he told the truth, would she hunt his family? If she were a good-beast however...

"Uh, 'llo, there," he greeted uncertainly.

His thoughts were silenced as he looked up to see a mouse, the one who had greeted him, and a dormouse who was making his way down the tree. "Good day to you all."

"I'd be interested t'know where y'came from as well, but we've matters to tend first." He gave the rabbit a considering look before flicking his thickfurred tail. "P'raps not something for you to attend."

Banwurt paused at this, eyes down-casting to the tied up vermin. "Well, important matters must be handled first, no hard feelings or anything." His voice was an octave higher than normal, clearly nervous about this. "Though I do not mind sticking close by. I do have some traveling questions of my own to inquiry about if any of you have the spare time after you have handled things." He did meet the squirrel's eyes again, though the urge to hide behind a tree was fairly strong just looking at her.

[Kenyon]

"They wot?"

“Eat… otherbeasts.” Enon reiterated with exaggerated patience. Spots just might be the slow one after all.

"Ah, I see. Attackin' beasts with no ability t'fight back, that's their way?"

Enon grinned unpleasantly at the dormouse, the scar pulling at the shape of her face. “Och, Ah’m no angel meself lad, ye ken? But better t’be me than somebeast like Spots, here.” She pointed her bow at Django. “Somebeast wots got a lily-white soul, aye?”

Twitching caught her eye, she turned her gaze back to the rabbit, who seemed caught between bolting and standing his ground. She had to hand it to him, he hadn’t bolted yet, though he certainly seemed terrified enough. She cocked her head, bad eye disappearing as her face turned to better observe him with her good eye. She seemed oddly fascinated with this trembling rabbit.

Banwurt paused at this, eyes down-casting to the tied up vermin. "Well, important matters must be handled first, no hard feelings or anything." His voice was an octave higher than normal, clearly nervous about this. "Though I do not mind sticking close by. I do have some traveling questions of my own to inquiry about if any of you have the spare time after you have handled things."

Enon snorted, jerking her head in a short nod. “Aye laddie-buck. Just scamper on behind those trees, an’ we won’t bother ye with bad sights.”

[Django]

Django was torn, to say the least. He'd learned that it's rarely justified to kill another beast. Only if they've done something terrible. And, apparently, these little green creatures had done some terrible things. Well, he didn't want a tribe of cannibals roaming the woods as much as the next beast.

“. . . Somebeast wots got a lily-white soul, aye?”

The mouse felt his face flush with the squirrel's words. Spots was a dumb nickname, but there was no helping it. "I ain't gorra lily-white soul," he muttered below his breath, still fiddling with his staff. "Wotever 'at means . . ." His attention turned back to the rabbit, who seemed to be just as uncomfortable with this whole situation as Django was.

"Well, important matters must be handled first, no hard feelings or anything." His voice was an octave higher than normal, clearly nervous about this. "Though I do not mind sticking close by. I do have some traveling questions of my own to inquiry about if any of you have the spare time after you have handled things."

“Aye laddie-buck. Just scamper on behind those trees, an’ we won’t bother ye with bad sights.”

Well, if she was going to kill them, anyway . . . "Uh, may'ap I'll join ye, mate," Django said to the rabbit. He'd seen death before, and it wasn't pleasant the first time. "Oi, Pipkin, ye comin' down?" He began backing off towards the trees the squirrel had indicated, his gaze on the dormouse still balancing on the tree limb.

((Meh, not happy with this post.))

[nikki]

“Och, Ah’m no angel meself lad, ye ken? But better t’be me than somebeast like Spots, here.”

"So long as we understand each other," Pipkin said pleasantly. "Mark me, I think these beasts are cowards who wouldn't risk the woods again for fear of you. And while I've no qualms regarding killing in battle... ahh, but you're not here to listen to a rambling dormouse, eh m'dear?"

He turned to amble toward Django, guiding the mouse toward the trees.

"Oh, she meant no insult, I think, Come along."

He looking ever at Banwurt then, head tilting.

"What questions did y'have, then?"

[tenor]

While he would not admit it, with the squirrel's bad eye masked from his vision it did help Banwurt quite a bit in watching her.

Enon snorted, jerking her head in a short nod. “Aye laddie-buck. Just scamper on behind those trees, an’ we won’t bother ye with bad sights.”

Banwurt was still torn, from fighting for these creatures' lives and proper etiquette from home kicking in to mind his own business. However having heard a bit of the conversation between the Dormouse and she, he understood a bit that, perhaps, this was a case of he did not know, and thus should not judge (not that it was proper to do such things anyway... even if his family did it all the time).

He gave a polite bow, eyes finally breaking away from her in the process, a paw that still held his cloak flourishing it out a bit. "Yes, Ma'am. Thank you," truth be told he was not sure if he should have thanked, but it were better to be overly polite on the matter than to miss a cue and be rude. First impressions, after all.

"Uh, may'ap I'll join ye, mate," Django said to the rabbit.

Banwurt nodded to the mouse, glad for the company as he waited for he and the Dormouse to reach the forest floor and followed them to the tree line the Squirrel had indicated. He did risk a look back as he moved with the other beasts, a confused yet slightly concerned expression on his face until he slipped behind the tree line.

He looking ever at Banwurt then, head tilting. "What questions did y'have, then?"

Banwurt blinked to the Dormouse, for a brief moment confused until his ears tucked back as it dawned on him, clapping his paws together.

"Oh! Yes, do forgive me. You see, I am in search of my sister who has gone questing for the Long Patrol at Salamandastron," his paws then turned inward to fiddle at the cloak's hem, rather worried what has become of his sister. While he did have faith in her, well, if things like those green bits of cannibals were running about the forest.... "I had heard the battle cry that was taught to my sister, so I had thought this was the correct way but I am afraid my brother and I had managed to get lost. Would either of you by chance know where we should be going?" His tone was rather apologetic, not wanting to take up much of their time.