"Hey, we brought this one back. The other one got away."
Oleg shoulders his shovel and gives the returning pair a hearty salute as they make their way back into the tradepost. "Good work, lads!"
He then turns back to the first captive and eyes him, then glances around the group, his momentary elation fading. "Was afraid'a that... knew there was more of 'em, th' first time they came by this Kressle was in th' lead. Nasty piece o' work, she was... which makes it all th' worse that she ain't th' one in charge, an' someone else is th' Boss givin' th' actual orders."
He trails off, expression falling first into a scowl then into a disappointed sigh. He continues to speak but in a lower, more subdued tone. "When she first showed up, she an' that whole pack o' rats, she snatched th' ring right off Lana's paw, she did. I spent moons lookin' for a proper oyster for that pearl to make a proper weddin' ring, I did, an' she just took it quick as y' please. Said it were 'payment' fer not takin' her first share o' the profits outta me tail."
He rallies a bit, looking at the two subdued bandits, and nods firmly to the group. "These bastards should be able t' tell us where th' rest of 'em, and their wretched mistress, are hidin'. Elsewise, I figure there's only a matter o' time a'fore they try t' try again, or worse come mainly for revenge."
Dahlia nods supportively. "We must safeguard your stronghold from reprisals quickly. Alas, since one of them escaped, it is possible that they will know we are here, though they may not suspect that we will come after them. The sooner we can follow, the better, don't you think?" She looks at Kizzirark with some concern, wondering if his injuries are worse than he lets on. "Thank Martin that all of us seem to have emerged safely from the ordeal. A blessed victory!"
"Where is Kressle's camp?" Rowan demands of the bandit he's been questioning.
Kizzirark reads Dahlia's look and after a while he speaks. "You have a good heart, you do, but we are not in the safe lands of Redwall anymore."
"Here, and in the North, life is a different beast, Dahlia. I think letting these rats live is a mistake and I'd rather have their heads in a pike to send the message that bandits aren't welcome here."
Rowan hooks a thumb over at Kizzirark while looking at the bandit he's interrogating.
"Better answer quickly and thoroughly. Give me a reason to try and change their mind."
"Where is Kressle's camp?" Rowan demands of the bandit he's been questioning.
Rowan hooks a thumb over at Kizzirark while looking at the bandit he's interrogating.
"Better answer quickly and thoroughly. Give me a reason to try and change their mind."
"South!" the first brigand blurts, wriggling as much as his bonds and the threatening blades will allow. "W-where th' Thorn crossin' use'ta be!"
"Shut up, y'idjit!" the other, still behind held down by Squakowk and Tawny, cuts in. "Worst these soft-headed Redwallers'll do is work us, an' th' badger might kill us, but Kressle'll have our hides for 'er tent!"
The warning, however, goes unheeded as the first rat continues to ramble. "Kressle cut th' bridge so's folks couldn't cross there, hav'ta go down t' th' Shrike crossin' instead an' pay th' toll, 'spec'ally since Nettles' Crossin's haunted! Ain't no other way further south no more!"
"Quiet, ya fool!"
Bertram stays in the background, letting the others do what they do. He believed in people being their authentic selves… which was just better when he didn’t get in the way. But he begins to find the bandit’s voice intrusive and it agitates one of his phantom friends. He weaves a simple spell, picks up one of the stray short swords, and moves toward the prisoners. He plants his foot on the face of the chatty villain, making it difficult for him to speak.
”Mosley likes you. He says your soul is dark and he’d like to swallow it. I don’t need you screaming in my head, so be helpful or be silent.” He turns his head to the side, presumably listening to this ‘Mosley’. ”’Dark’ or ‘black’, what’s the difference? Either way, I have to give him the choice.”
He turns his cloudy eyes back in the bandit’s direction. ”If you are unhelpful, Mosley will claim you. Watch.” He holds the shortsword at shoulder level, point aimed down, hovering over the bandit’s chest… then the oracle releases the blade with a smile.
The shortsword drops toward the bandit. Before it buries itself in his chest, the blade is suddenly shunted sideways… nearly clipping the oracle before sticking into the earth some 10’ away.
He observes brightly, ”See? Mosley wants to gorge on your soul. I’d be happier if he didn’t but the choice is yours.” He removes his foot from the fellow’s face.
"What do you all think?" Rowan asks the others. "This one has been pretty helpful. Assuming he's telling the truth."
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You're fairly confident the blabbering bandit is telling the truth, he seems legitimately afraid of what the group can do, especially after seeing the brutal death of Happs and that you defeated the beetle in the first place.
You're also confident the runaway bandit is also telling the truth - that this Kressle is as terrifying to him as you are to his partner, and that her punishments for talking to Redwallers should she get her paws on them will be cruel, painful, and inventive.
Both certainly know the way back to their camp, and you would be surprised if Oleg and Svetlana don't have some kind of map of the surrounding area of the Deep Green, even if it's not a complete or thorough one, that may point the way toward the Thorn, Nettles', Shrike Crossings that the talkative bandit mentioned.
This blathering buffoon seems to be sputtering a whole lot of nonsense but whether it's accurate or not is beyond your ken; as best you can tell, he's just vomiting words to spare his skin in hopes of some manner of reprieve or leniency. What to do with the information itself is more questionable.
---
Oleg remains off to the side, now leaning on the shovel as his tail flits about irritably. His eyes are narrow and wary as they dart from one brigand to the other, but he doesn't interfere with the group's decisions. He seems comfortable having ceded control of the situation to you all.
Svetlana returns around this time, her apron stained with the beetle's ichor and a large butcher's cleaver in one paw; if you didn't know what she'd just been up to, she'd be a proper terrifying sight right about now. She meanders her way over next to Oleg, looking around to piece together the situation that's unfolded in her absence.
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This blathering buffoon seems to be sputtering a whole lot of nonsense but whether it's accurate or not is beyond your ken; as best you can tell, he's just vomiting words to spare his skin in hopes of some manner of reprieve or leniency. What to do with the information itself is more questionable.
Squakowk looks down scornfully at the blathering buffoon, gathering that he is telling the truth solely by reading the faces of his fellow adventurers, his gaze making him look like a hungry vulture than a dodo.
“If we are truly to believe you, then answer me this: why can you trust a dishonest man, but you cannot trust an honest man? And to prove that I mean business….”
Quick as a flash, Squakowk takes his sword and stabs the other bandit in the shoulder.
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"Gyarhgh!" the second bandit howls in pain, attempting to flail away from the attack but unable to escape his bindings.
"I don't knows what'cha mean!" the first bandit wails, eyes boggling at the sudden assault. "I ain't bein' dishonest wit' yas, honest! Or uhh, I honestly ain't dishonest, I swears! Honest!" If the rat wasn't visibly spooked, he'd certainly be visibly perplexed as he fumbles over his words in near-panic.
Dahlia frowns, and to try and head off any more cruelty, she asks the bandit who has revealed to them useful information: "Where will you go if we do not execute you? Clearly, your former superior will not accept you back, and you’re probably in for at least a beating if you return to her. I do not think our hosts will welcome you here, even if you offered to work for them."
"Ye're blightin' right I wouldn't," Oleg spits. His tail lashes irritably until Svetlana takes his hand, giving it a little squeeze and seeming to calm him a bit.
"There ain't nowhere to go," the more talkative bandit answers. "Can't go further south since that's all th' land o' the Big Boss, an' would hafta get past Kressle an' reach one'a the crossin's ta get there ta begin with. Goin' back west we'd jus' get picked off by th' Long Patrol or somethin'. Ain't nothin' north but badlands, wouldn't last a day."
There's a pause, then the wounded rat manages a pained grunt. "... could go east more." He lets that hang a few moments before continuing, gritting his teeth against the throbbing from his wound. "Stick north 'nuff an' we wouldn't hafta worry 'bout endin' up in any part o' the Deep Green what's haunted, yeah...? Get out o' the Stag's reach, an' outta that badger's."
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“Speak plainly, and I will make your passing quick and as painless as possible.”
The menacing glare that Squakowk gives the bandits only intensifies.
”And to help you understand my question, you can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest, but you must be careful with an honest man as they are more likely to do something stupid.”
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Trail looks very confused at the utter nonsense that squawk is spouting
"Uh, I hate to be the one to tell you this but outside of bad stories or philosophical bull crap NOBODY always lies or always tells the truth. Everybody lies sometimes, everybody tells the truth sometimes. You just have to be able to tell which is which. And I think these guys are telling the truth
We can't just kill people. I promised this one he gets to live if he surrendered. I'm not going to let you make a liar of me. Let's just let them go with no armour and only a knife"
Rowan indicates the bandit he's been interrogating.
"This one, too. Since he was so helpful about telling us where this Kressle's camp is. But we won't release them together."
"I'm not going to let you make a liar of me."
"A falling tree makes no noise if there ain't anyone to hear, Tawny."
"I'm not going to let you make a liar of me.""A falling tree makes no noise if there ain't anyone to hear, Tawny."
"Us Bunny rabbits AND cats don't hold with philosophical bullcrap. Of COURSE a falling tree makes noise. That is just obvious. Kinda surprised that a BADGER, of all things, worries about nonsense like that"
Dahlia nods toward Oleg and Svetlana. "We are guests of the masters of this holdfast, and the decision of what should be done with you is theirs. We will respect their authority in this wild place-- even here, we are all of us civilized. If you would beg for mercy, your entreaties are better directed to them rather than us." She sighs regretfully, as if she fears she already knows what they will rule.
"Speak for yourself Dahlia, not me. I'm NOT going to just accept murdering rats that surrendered"
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Oleg and Svetlana observe the conversation going back and forth, not yet interrupting until Dahlia turns the direction of the discourse upon them directly. The two exchange a meaningful look, and after a short pause Svetlana finally speaks.
"While we were wrong when we thought you were sent by the authorities to handle these troublemakers, we were assured someone was on the way, at least one representative from the Long Patrol. I would say the most suitable arrangement would be to lock them up until the hares arrive, and hand them over when they do. Such things as brigands are their duty anyhow, and if they're going to be this late in coming to assist, best we have their work bound and waiting for them when they finally do show."
"With bows on'neir noses an' bells on'neir tails," Oleg adds with an amused snort.
"We can keep them bound up in the barn," Svetlana continues, gesturing in the direction of the building, "until they arrive - but I absolutely do not believe it's safe to let them go. Even if they claim running back to Kressle will end with them skinned and scorned, it will also inform Kressle of your arrival and give her time to prepare for making more trouble. The less she knows about the current situation overall, the better for all of us."
"An' can't take a bandit at their word 'bout that they'll be runnin' eastward what they says they will," Oleg offers once again. "Not any further'n my tail'll reach, anyhow."
Rowan nods at Svetlana's decision, but rolls his eyes at the continuing talk when there's work to be done. He finds some rope and begins the process of tying them up.
"If you escape... if you try to escape, surrender won't be an option for you any more. Understand?" he explains to the two prisoners.
"I can live with that. We have your word that they'll be turned over to the patrol alive, right?"
Kizzirark shrugs to Tawny and looks at the rats. "Ye know, after one of the many wars in the North, I once saw a ferret warrior that was unlucky or unskilled enough to have lost both feet. Despite that, he was still very much alive. Not great at running, though."
"Handed over, aye, sure," Oleg says with a grunt as he assists in the process of tying the captives and leading them away to the barn. "What the hares'll do with 'em when an' if they show up, that'll be another conversation."
It doesn't take long to get the two bound bandits sequestered away into the barn, placing each in a separate stall with a pile of loose hay for a resting place and another for personal business, then ensuring their new "rooms" are suitably shut and locked. Once all that's done, Svetlana disappears into the couple's den to make a "well-earned dinner" for everyone. She's basically unable to be approached for the next couple of hours, going so far as to chase anyone - Oleg included - who intrudes upon her work out with a ladle and a cleaver. She pops out from time to time to haul in bits and bobs from storage, including the meaty remnants of the beetle, but is a mouse on a mission and will not be dissuaded by anything less catastrophic than another bandit raid or something being set on fire.
Oleg, meanwhile, gets back to work on repairs and renovations as he had been when the group arrived. If questioned, he mentions needing to make things ready for the arrival of the Long Patrol and "any other hopalongs what might show up once there's proper travel on this road," which his tone implies might not be the result he had originally wanted but he's resigned himself to the fact. He doesn't have any chores or tasks for would-be helpful woodfolk, simply asking the group to not get in his way and implying they'll need their rest for whatever may come next, though he doesn't state anything too specific.
Dahlia makes preparations for the arrival of the Long Patrol and their mission to venture out looking for the bandits' camp.
The day wanes on, with your new hosts continuing the various chores and duties of their lives and entrusting you all to find some way to occupy your time that doesn't disturb their work, until at last the dinner hour arrives and the guests are summoned to the table.
Svetlana has laid out a simple but clearly filling meal, with chestnut bread and wildflower salad alongside a large bowl of steaming, spicy beetle broth soup. The texture is seafood-like, though the taste is notably more terrestrial, a little gamy but not too much. It's clear a lot of work went into the simple-looking dish, between the exquisite blend of spices and the extensive labor it took for Svetlana to butcher the gigantic insect into edible parts.
The meal is quiet between the couple, though they're willing to answer any questions the group may still have over the food. Following this, they both plan to take an early night and rest off the very busy, very stressful day, though Oleg does first pop over to the barn to feed the captives a small sampling of the meal; he'll gladly welcome an escort if someone volunteers, but seems confident he'll have no issues if no one speaks up.
Rowan makes sure that he makes all of the appropriate comments and noises of satisfaction about dinner before turning to Oleg to talk business.
"So... the bandit we captured mentioned three different crossings: Thorn Crossing, Shrike Crossing, and Nettle's Crossing. Do you know where any of those are?"
Dahlia accompanies Oleg to check on the prisoners, and also takes a turn acting as the watch. Just in case the bandits that fled found their way back to their superiors, and come back with vengeance on their minds, she thinks.
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Rowan makes sure that he makes all of the appropriate comments and noises of satisfaction about dinner before turning to Oleg to talk business.
"So... the bandit we captured mentioned three different crossings: Thorn Crossing, Shrike Crossing, and Nettle's Crossing. Do you know where any of those are?"
"Roughly," the mouse replies, gesturing vaguely toward the exit of the tradepost. "All of 'em are south, just in varyin' directions. I ain't explored a lot of it myself mind, but there's a few other reclusive types what ain't bandits out here in the Deep Green, an' sometimes they come by for this or that. Can draw you a map, though no promises it'll be perfect accurate."
Kizzirark eats to his heart's content, and that is a lot. If asked, he again replies about taking advantage of nice things when you have'em.
Tawny eats and then, as all good cats do, has a nice comfy nap in front of the fire.
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Squakowk finds the meal delicious, in particular the beetle broth, eagerly helping himself to more if possible.
“Tis a most delectable feast, equal to the banquet back at Redwall, in my opinion!”
After enjoying his fill, Squakowk has a shift back to his somber demeanour. He doesn’t say anything, but it’s clear that he wishes to ask some questions and, he is clearly troubled by something.
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There's certainly enough food to go around, and the couple are content to serve the travelers as much as they wish to have. They seem happy to leave the guard duty to any volunteers such as Dahlia, and encourage the group to make themselves comfortable in their quarters whenever ready.
Svetlana is the first to pick up on Squakowk's sudden shift in mood, and settles next to the bird as she starts the cleanup after the meal. "You look as if you've much upon your mind."
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Squakowk is mildly surprised that Svetlana is the first person out of everyone to inquire about what thoughts are racing around his head.
“I thank you, Svetlana, it is nice to have someone who is willing to listen to this old bird.”
A small smile is given by Squakowk, to show his appreciation to Svetlana.
“Where would you like me to start? As I would love to speak first of my family’s history.”
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"Share what you like, hon," she replies. She stirs a pot of dandelion tea on the table before serving a cup for both of them and anyone else who wishes one.
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“Thank you, Svetlana, and I am quite partial to dandelion tea.”
Squakowk takes a sip of the tea before continuing his conversation.
”My family has always been well known throughout the world for many years, but in recent times has lost some of its former glory, for the Delrany family has been merchant traders and/or stalwart adventurers (granted, part of that is due to many family members being pirates or joining the circus). But we were never the sort to - for all of our flamboyance - look down upon those less fortunate in life, hence why we often fund expeditions and the like. Despite the family roots stretching back over 2000 years or so, Delrany Manor is a more recent place of residence (with I having taken the title of Lord of the Manor from my father - who was the 4th lord, making me the 5th and current lord - after his passing 40 years ago), and it is filled to the brim with many a prize or artefact or relic of the family’s history.”
Takes another sip of tea, giving Svetlana and everyone else the chance to ask any questions.
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Svetlana doesn't seem to have any questions yet, but she is clearly listening as the yarn is spun.
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(A night later...)
A bright and clear dawn greets the Redwallers and their hosts the following morning, with the day brisk and without a cloud in the sky. A warm breakfast of honeyed porridge and sliced fruit - simple but filling, once more - awaits them when they arrive at the tradepost's table. Oleg and Svetlana ensure there is food enough for all their guests, and enough for seconds besides.
When the party begins to arrive, they find Oleg at work drawing his promised map on the back of a piece of scrap parchment, the curled front of which visibly displays a "Wanted" declaration, though with Oleg currently drawing on it you can't see the image of the criminal it seeks. He acknowledges any arrivals with a small nod and/or a quiet grunt.
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During the night, before the delicious honeyed porridge, Squakowk continues his story.
”My family have also been linked with many a legendary figure - such as the famous swordsman, Martin, who personally trained quite a few of my ancestors. Indeed, name any event in history, a Delrany was there and always ready to leave their mark in the chronicles.”
Squakowk finishes his tea, and lays on the table his sword, an aura surrounding the weapon.
“Before I move on to the next, more painful part of the story, I would like to give all present the chance to satisfy their curiosity.”