A single drenched rat

[Sigurd]

A pair of eyes watched from above. Scront, the weasel thief giggled with joy at the abused searat. Oh, tis was handy, and dandy! Maybe he would get a job from this!

"Hey ratty!" he called below. "I hear you wanna break into that abbey!" the weasel thief yelled. Pausing for a short while, he thought. "You need a sword or tapestry?" he asked, with a sly grin on his face. Those abbey-dwellers would lose all nerves without those. Still, the weasel lay in wait in the tree, not wanting to get near that tail.

[Tulian Solum]

(Sorry for the wait )

The world coming into focus as screams of pain pierced his ears Tul remained laying still. He was fairly certain beasts around him knew he was awake but he needed time to fully wake up before he tried to do anything lest he make a possible dead fool of himself. Roving his eyes as much as he could with moving his head he could only see a stoats footpaws kick and spasm as flecks of blood lightly showed over him. Looking up as much as he dared he could see a quick flash of pink before the screams abruptly stopped. That would be the warlords tail there. This situation was just getting better and better.

Slowly pushing himself up on his shackled hands he sat on the back of his legs on his knees, not even able to stand in his current condition as he licked some of the water from his lips, grateful of the little bit of a drink as he tried to compose a answer that wouldn't have him being dragged and drugged again.

But before he could reply a voice called out from above them. Looking up Tul managed a tiny breath of relief, at least this distraction should take notice off him, but having just witnessed the warlord murder one of his own he didn't hold out much hope for this weasel if the warlord got hold of him. Besides, this warlord seemed to know about the rat Cluny, so he would know about the sword and the tapestry that Cluny tried to claim as his own, and how well that worked for him...Either way he stayed silent, hoping he would be forgotten in the presence of this new creature.

[Ocutrum the Scourge]

Ocutrum heard the nasely voice of the weasel hail him from above. His temple twitched with anger. He DARE mention his ancestor? He DARE mention his faliure?! His teeth bared, he slipped a dagger from the sash on his chest. Holding it between his forefinger and thumb, he readied it in his paw. Smilng, he turned his face to the weasel, his single ey judging his position. "Now, why would you bring that up?" he said, his voice steeling on the edge of a guttural screech, "Do you wish to DIE?!" He shouted, throwing the knife with pinpoint accuracy on the last word, his tail wrapping around the other rat's wrist, of whom lay next to him. Turning back, he spat with each new word he spoke. "So, you didn't tell me..." Lifting the rat, his voice grew deeper and darker, "Whats your name, vermin? Do I need to gut it out of you? Or would you rather live a little longer?" His eye twitching madly, his breath stretching out in front of the other rat, he awaited a reasponse, very soon.

[Sigurd]

The knife thudded heavily, and a grunt was heard. Ten feet away from the spot in the tree where the knife hit, Scront lay sprawled across some heavy boughs, snickering. "Most knife throwers close an eye before! Did you close one of yours? Oh, wait, you only got one... That makes sense with your accuracy!" he snickered, with a cruel smile.

The weasel scurried farther up to tree, until he was sure he was out of arrow range, let alone a throwing knife. "I wasn't kidding 'bout that offer, idjit! But, I now take back my offer!" his voice rang below for the beasts.

[Tulian Solum]

Keeping quiet as the others had their little shouting match Tul looked around at the beasts around him and the warlord. They were all distracted by the weasel in the tree. This would be his only chance. Trying to make as little noise as possible he began to try and move away from the rat. But with the weight of the chains, his fatigue, and the feeling only just starting to come back in his poisoned arm he was only able to get a foot away at best before the warlords tail seized him again.

Visibly gulping as he was dragged forward again he tried to close his nose as the warlord breathed heavily in his face, he had only smelt something that badly during the looting of dead beasts. This rat certainly fulfilled all the stereotypes for vermin...but that wasn't something he should bring up if he was angry, had already killed one of his own troops, and wished to kill another. Taking a second to think of the best way to answer he finally gave his response while held tightly by the other rats tail.

"Tulian...sir, living would be nice, yes?"