You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours

[fernleaf]

"Yes, I believe I can help you." said Zagreb. She sat down and emptied her pouch, throwing the contents into the air and then seeing how they fall. "There is danger. The revenge you wish is in reach, but a direct route would lead to disaster. Here is you, and you are inside a larger one on this path. However, here is a word that changes the path. The mouse is more dangerous. He has ways to make one pay who attacks him, and a fat fox is entwined in his destiny.

But back to the word. The direct path leads to disaster for you,but there is a way to discredit him, whispers in the night. An an accident that will one day take my own master." She looked up at Snivels. "You must stand up tall. And listen to the whispers. They must reach the ears of our master." An evil smile came over her. "Yes, yes, there is a way for both of us." She gathered up the objects and put them back in her pouch. "Let us go back."

[Caterpillar]

Returning to his table, Vermilion reclaimed his weaponry, but he didn't sit back on his seat but turned towards the throne on the pedestal

The big stone seat was decorated with his most valuable trophies which demonstrated his strength conquer any enemy he faced. There was a big wild-cat's skull, many large claws and teeth - but the most remarkable trophy was the enormous badger-hide, tossed over the warlord's throne. That truly was the warlord's greatest mark of power and when Vermilion lowered himself on the fur covered throne -- while reaching for the vine goblet the slave was offering to him from the stray -- he could feel how his mind started to calm down.

Ah yes.. maybe that stoat had been a disappointment but as he sat among his trophies, the irritation from it faded and was replaced with good memories of the fierce battles. And the victories he had seized from them. Now those had been the combats he hungered for! The true test of skills and the thrill of the death…

Vermilion's eyes strayed next to his throne, where the bard-mouse sat on the steps of the pedestal. Maybe the slave still remembered what had happened previously and was now obediently waiting the warlord's permission to speak

There was something suspicious in this mouse, though Vermilion couldn't quite place it. It wasn't a defiant attitude but rather the lack of it. For example how easily the mouse had submitted into his new role as a slave. There hadn't been any need for threats or maiming, for the mouse had just yielded right after the scouts had dragged the small rodent in front of him. Of course Vermilion had seen how cowardly beasts covered when fearing for their lives, but something it didn't add up in here…. Even the cowardly ones tried eventually do something defiant (although they usually ended up begging forgiveness afterwards). Beasts just didn't surrender their freedom like it was nothing...

Vermilion leaned to the big arm-rest, sipping his wine.
"Still have any songs you haven't sung yet, Bard?" 
Steck lifted his eyes up to the weasel. When the other speaking about "songs" the bard knew Vermilion wasn't meaning just any kind of songs. The warlord liked the ballads and tales filled with battles, blood and glory of beating the enemy -- Those kind of stories that didn’t include cheesy or smoochy-woochy endings.
"Oh, I have plenty, lord", Steck assured with neutral voice. "What would be more of your liking this time? I have 'The Slaughter of The Grendel Monster', 'The Legend of The Blood Peak Battle" and then there's tales of…"

Vermilion didn't seem impressed. "I want to hear another of those woodlanders' stories", he interrupted with commanding tone and Steck fell suddenly silent, cursing inwardly. The major problem in the woodlanders' hero tales were… that they might be…. a teeny-weeny bit out of the warlord's preference. They were tales of heroism, like protecting the weak and rescuing the oppressed and so on. Clearly themes that wouldn't be on Vermilion's top-list of interest (and it was very dangerous to bore the warlord, mind you!) . The few passable ones he had already told and of course Vermilion just wanted to hear another one now for all the nights!

Vermilion noticed the bard's prolonged silence and dangerous, crooked smile showed up on his lips as he leaned closer.
"Well, well…", the warlord dragged those words and while keeping his intense stare on the bard, his other hand started slowly move towards his weapon belt "…Have you finally run out of the songs, Bard…?"

Steck's ears perked up in alarm as he saw warlord's fingers reaching for the throwing knives. Oh, this was bad…!
"Martin the Warrior!", Steck said hurriedly. "I - I dare to say I haven't told any tales about him , have I? He is said to be one of the greatest heroes woodlanders have ever made stories about…"

Vermilion's hand stopped and it returned back to the arm-rest. A small hint of interest flashing in weasel's bright red eyes.
"I'm listening"

[coolcoyote]

Snivels raised an eyebrow to the rats display of her job. He followed a few steps before raising the question, "Wait...you...you can help me?" He makes a motion to grab the seer by the arm and spin her around. "Should I ask how you plan to help me...or how much will it cost?"

-----

The grey fox named Wolf leans forward in his chair. As do most other vermin in the room. If nothing else, they will get a good story, or finally see if the warlord was going to kill off the little mouse.

Personally Wolf liked the bard. Any mouse brave enough to have a sense of humor in this lot of beasts had to have some rat running through his veins.

[Caterpillar]

# Alrighty then -- lets kick this thing going again x) #


He was still breathing and Steck took this opportunity to improve the chances of him to stay that way. Luckily he had many stories and songs mentioning Martin as it was his personal quest of finding all the tales of the Mouse Warrior (and maybe someday write one of his own). Though not all of them were written to fit vermin-liking, with minor adjustment and omission of some verses they should meet Vermilion's preference. Or so Steck hoped. The weasel lord was a difficult beast to predict.

Letting his submissive silent be his anwer, the bard-mouse let his fingers run over the flute's strings. "Fall Of Queen of Thousands Eyes" might be his best bet right now. It vaguedly descripled the final battle between Martin the Warrior and Tsarmina Greeneye: how the mouse-warrior vowed to kill the cat-ruler and how he finally did. After all Steck didn't want to serve main dish before the appetizer. The secret of holding the audience's interest was not to hand out the best stories first - the first tales should always be ones that would pique listeners interest and leave them wanting to hear more.

Then he started to sing.

[coolcoyote]

Rasilisk seemed to sigh every time the mouse opened his mouth to belt out yet another of his tall tales. Unlike Wolf who seemed content to sot back and be intertained by the 'finer' things in life Rasil was an otter of action. He would have rather seen his lord and master put the mouse into the fighting pit. Now THERE would be a story worth telling later on.

The story's words prick at the otters ears however and he sits up in his chair. He knew this story. It was one of the many folktales his family told him as a pup. It also had some ring of truth to it or so he heard despite the many years that must have passed to cloud the details.

Wolf couldn't help but notice the otters reaction. He smiled and chuckled darkly, "Oi! What's the matter Rasil ol boy? Don't worry, the wild cats can't get you."

Rasil slumps into his chair rolling his eyes. It took a certain ammount of patience to deap with Wolf when the ale started filling up the fox's belly. The otter hisses, "Quiet ye daft fool. I'm trying to listen. And it was one time..."

"Yeah...one time with a big scary wild cat leapin out at you, you mean. If you listen closely you can still hear your girly screams echoing across the caves."

"He /jumped out/ at me." Rasil tightens his grip on his glass. "And I gutted the cat propper didn't I?"

"Yeah...it was also the last time anyone is throwing you a surprise party." Rose quips as she drinks from her own gobblet. She didn't know if it was the wine that gave her a head ache or the officers rambling on while she tried to listen to the story. It was about the only entertainment one could get down here and they were kind of ruining the experience.

[Caterpillar]

# okay, there are some alternative possibilities how to proceed from here. x) Number one: After the feast Steck and Baro are returned to their cell and their proceed to escape from there. Number two: we unleash mayhem right here and now. xD

…In that alternative I was hoping fernleaf would use Zagred to persuade Vermilion kill the bard right now and this event would launch bard's and fox quickly improvised escape… But I'm not sure if he will join us in this thread anymore, so I just think something equal good…

But which one sounds the best idea for your liking? ^^ #


Vermilion sipped his wine and listened as the song unfolded from the lute's strings Around him the feast went one, some of the beasts were leaning to hear bard's story when the rest of the Torehall continued to enjoy the drinks and the food.

That mattered little. Vermilion didn't expect all his tribe understand the interest he had in his little "hobby". Next to his bedchamber there was triumph-room in where the weasel-lord had placed his most valuable possession. And they weren't just hides or weapons of his fallen enemies, but also treasures that were looted from the holts… But only handful of them were money.

Money was plain boring, just identical pieces of silver and gold. But masterpieces, be they paintings, weapons, sculptures or jewelry work - now they were something to admire at. He liked the strolls in his triump-room, looking at the items that had been the city's -- the tribe's -- the fortress' -- most prized treasures. And bask in the knowledge that they were all his now.

The songs and tales were pretty much same thing. They weren't collectable as other items, but they sparked his interest in other way. Vermilion was, as one could say, a beats with good taste -- if you left out the fact that he was a leader of barbaric tribe and one of his punishment-methods was to toss the poor sods at the mercy of his beast-eating lizard.

The bard had sung many songs from the nay he was captured but this one…. This was very intriguing one. A mouse-warrior with a sword, defeating opponent that should be far more powerful than the puny rodent. And when the tale was over, the weasel-lord demanded to hear more.

And the bard sung about the warrior-mouse's journey to a big fire breathing mountain -- this happened before he challenged the wild cat empress. Inside the mountain a badger-lord, the greatest blacksmith of all time, mended the broken sword using metal which had fallen for a sky.

You might guess this sparked more interest in Redglade's chief.

[coolcoyote]

#fernleaf is still logging on :3 he replied to my pm question about roses fate im up for either option.#

[fernleaf]

#Sorry, I'll see what I can do in my post. I was unsure on how to proceed.


ic: "How much will it cost, dearie? I'll tell  you. You must kill my master, and make it look like an accident so neither of us will be blamed. I'll help you if you agree to that." said Zagreb.

[coolcoyote]

"Done." The ferrets reply comes quickly and with out sarcasm. Snivels was actually worried she would ask him to do something he wasn't experience at or worse in some quest.

Making the death of an old rat look like an accident? Easy. Having blackmail to twist the arm of the next seer down the line? Oh he would have paid HER to kill her master.

Of course that was a two way road Snivels thought. He shook his head. There was time enough to think about such things later.

"It will of course take a while to find a...propper way to dispose of our ratty problem. He IS rather favored by our lord and master. But not impossible. Tell you what." Snivels once again wraps his arm around the rat whether she wants him too or not. "You take care of that rodent in there and I'll make sure all your problems go away. With the master seer out of the way I'm confident my foxy problem will take care of itself eventually too. Get my drift?"

In reality the ferret was testing the seer, seeing how usefull she would be, as well as trying to get two beasts out of his hair for the price of one. If nothing else Darkclaw was efficient.

And having a seer on his side would make it easier to get rid of a certain fat and tubby fox later on...

----

Baro, one of two fat and tubby foxes in the room craddled his head on his paws and sighed. His life was left in the paws of a bard! He was doomed for sure!

As the bard told his tale the otter second in command leaned over to whisper in the ear of his master, "Sir. I've heard these tales before. There is some truth to them. Most of it is woodlander propiganda to scare enemies and comfort their frightened dibbuns but the sword actually exists..." he says exitedly. "Supposedly anyway. My mum used to put me to sleep with tales of martin the warrior." He chuckles at that.

[Caterpillar]

# Yay! Fernleaf! 8DD Now that you're back we can use the first plan! *glee*

And don't sweat about how to proceed ^^ Just write what fits with your character the best n.n Seers are preferred in the tribes so no-one will question if Zagred suddenly shows up and demands bard's death. Seers are known to get forehand warnings about the great disasters and that also means they have knowledge how to avoid them. So if Zagred declares that Steck would draw misfortune over the tribe, the bard's head would roll pretty quickly…

If you're not sure what excuse to use - and you don't want to put Zagred to tell an outright lie - the seer-rat can always bend the truth and use her earlier vision of warrior mouse against the bard… ^^ #


When the tribe's new second in command leaned to whisper his knowledge to his lord, Vermilion's bright red eyes landed on the otter.

"Really now?", Vermilion said , stroking his chin, his eyes looking now somewhere far away illuminating how thoroughly the warlord was contemplating what he had just heard. Before long his mind turned back to the present and his attention focused on the bard.

"So where is this place called Redwall? Never heard of it"
And when the bard failed to answer in the desired speed, the weasel-lord kicked him.

"I asked you a question, slave"

"I don't know, lord" Steck admitted without hint of rebellion in his voice. He rubbed the back of his head, the sore place in where the weasel's kick had landed. "Sadly I'm a bard, not a map-maker… And the tales I know aren't very specific about the locations the stories take the place"

[coolcoyote]

Wolf covers over a sigh by drinking more wine. He knew that look, the flash of greed and possible maddness in the warlords eyes. They were in for it now. "Just tell us what you know bard. Less you want to tell it from inside Zask's stomach."

The heavy set beast props his chin up on one paw before sliding more food towards himself. If his diet was going to kill him one day then he might as well die well fed...