I do what I want!

[Griffith]

A bright sunny afternoon embraced the vast Mossflower woods. It alone was a scene that's beauty could not be matched. In a land such as this, it was hard to believe that villainy and treachery still existed.

Walking amongst the dusty trail was a mouse. A small breeze embraced the young silver furred mouse as he walked in a confident way. His black scarf flailed in the wind, his torn and tattered clothes also doing a small dance with the breeze. It was a refreshing one, especially after traveling and well, bullying vermin, and speaking of the devil, there was two vermin up ahead, carrying a small brown moving bag.

His brows quirking, the mouse gave a sly smile, and quickly stood behind a tree, fortunate that the two dull morons hadn't gazed ahead....

" 'ey Drumruff, whadya s'ppose teh leada' will dew wit' dis dibbun eh?" A fat, scruffy weasel asked, scratching his forehead as he pointed back at the bag as he dragged it on the ground."

"Hmm, 'dunno Brug, mehbe eat 'im...tehehehehehhe...." A tall, lanky rat responded giggling in an odd tone.


Griff rolled his eyes, his finger holed glove reaching for his claymore. Insolent beasts. I could take 'em both with my left side... He thought, mentally making a paradox, seeing as his bandaged left side was weaker, and would always be a bit weaker than it should be. Smiling at the thought of it though, he removed his right hand from his blade and unsheathed his dagger with his left paw.

Taking two steps out of the tree, he pulled out a toothpick and put it in his mouth, glancing at the two vermin whilst twirling his dagger.
" 'ey, you know there's a toll on this road right?" The mouse asked nonchalantly. It was a good thing he could at least lie in situations like this.

The two vermin glanced at each other and the fat one, Brug, took two steps forward, dropping the bag and unsheathing a cutlass.
" 'ey, this is our tur'-ack!"

"Wrong answer," Griffith responded, throwing the dagger and striking the beast in the heart with it. Brug fell limp immediately. Smirking to himself, Griff pulled out the toothpick, glanced at it, then to Drumruff. " You got a better answer?"

"B-Brug! Yew'll pay for that!" The rat ran towards him. Griff gave a small chuckle and rolled underneath the rat's drawn rapier, and pulled his dagger out of Brug as he rolled to his feet. As soon as Drumruff turned around, he had the dagger thrusted into his stomach and then removed.

Drumruff whimpered in pain, letting out a high pitched painful yowl. Griff rolled his eyes and cut the sack, letting the young Redwall dibbun out, and then, went to go finish off Drumruff...

[Skipper]

"D'you think I could take 'em both?"

"Shhh! They'll hear you!"

"Well if I c'n take 'em both, them I've nothin' ta worry abou--"

"I don't care, ya don't wanna lose the element of surprise!"

"You do so care!"

"How so?"

"I'm arguing with myself -- how can I not care?"

"Well ya seem ta be managin' it quite nicely, I'll tell ye that!"

"Oh, shurrup, will you?"

"You're the one talki..." the voice trailed off, "...hey look, a mousey."

"What, an' you're sayin' it looks like anythin' else?--"

Rivertinn McHedj, whose reputation labeled him as "half-mad," a concept he was yet to understand completely, had followed the two vermin-creatures, apparently named Brug and Drumruff, all morning, had left before midday, and returned later that afternoon. The squirrel had a habit of talking to himself, which he thought to be much less strange than the fact that he talked back. It was more a form of amusement than anything else. Today, his argument was interrupted as the mouse, whom Rivertinn hadn't noticed for quite some time, as it launched a dagger at the weasel. The mouse then stabbed the rat with the same dagger, and set the dibbun free -- whatever a dibbun was. The rat whimpered in pain -- a terrible sound -- and the mouse turned, with the obvious intention of doing away with the rat.

That was enough for Rivertinn. Dropping from his perch on a low branch (it was a wonder that nobeast had seen him yet), he shot toward the mouse, lowering to a slide at the last second, with the intention of tripping the mouse. Yes, the mouse was probably an experienced fighter, and Rivertinn was nothing of the sort, but the squirrel had a tendency to act on an impulse -- it's more fun that way.

[Griffith]

"Pwease mista mousey spa' me, pweeease!" The vermin moaned, trying to scramble to his feet. Too focused on the vermin, Griff did not expect to be tripped, at all. He had drawn his long sword, and began twirling it expertly, his way of showing off and bringing intimidation to the table.

" No way, yew did-agh dangit!" Griff found himself flat on the ground, his blade flying off into a nearby tree. Upon this spectacle the rat took the liberty of fleeing.

Griff grunted, and in reaction to this embarassing thing, he rolled over to his blade pulled it from the tree, and then spun around, pointing it at Rivertinn, even though there was three feet between them.
" 'ey! You stupid treemouse, 'e got away now!" Griff snarled, glaring at him in hate, the fierce warrior's eyes wanting to well...fight River now.

The dibbun meanwhile, was unconcious do to being dropped on the ground earlier...

"What do you have to say for yourself eh?! Quick, before you end up like the first 'un!" Griffith declared.

[Skipper]

((What happened to "riverdog"? ))

"What do you have to say for yourself eh?! Quick, before you end up like the first 'un!"

Rivertinn rose casually to his footpaws. "Well, firstly, I'm not a mouse," he said, purely for the sake of irritation, "And I..." He hesitated. What was he doing? Sure, that rat was helpless, and it did seem a bit harsh to kill the creature. But didn't the rat deserve it? After all, it and its weasel friend had dibbunnapped that poor...well...dibbun. And at least death would have put the injured rat out of its misery -- the wounded creature will probably die later anyway due to blood loss or infection. So much for the fun of acting upon an impulse.

Rivertinn thought hard, searching for a good excuse for not only tripping the mouse and setting free the rat, but also for why he was standing here like this with his eyes closed...Hmm...That may take a bit of explaining. He suddenly remembered back to his little adventure back in Noonvale. That was it.

Opening his eyes, he looked at the mouse thoughtfully, and attempted an explanation.

"I'm sensing much hostility here..." Oh, really? That wasn't exactly a ladle he was being threatened with.

"...so I'll just be honest with you. I knew you would be here, which is why I waited for you. I sensed that I would need to save somebeast here." He pointed downward at the ground where the rat had previously been.

"You see, I am a seer..." Alright, that was believable. "...and to kill that rat would have brought a bad omen...which is not good.....but bad............ h-hence the name...." ...Genius.

The alibi wasn't a very good one, but it was nonetheless believable. Then again, most, if not, all seers were vermin, and Rivertinn knew of only one gentlebeast-seer, and this seer was nothing more than an old legend told to dibbuns when it rained. Not the most credible source. Well, hopefully the mouse wouldn't ask for proof...

[Griffith]

The more and more the squirrel spoke, the more distorted Griff' face got in confusion. His face was one of great disbelief and confusion. The mouse rolled his eyes, mumbling some curses, and sheathing his longsword across his back.

" I don't know what you've been drinkin', but I do know you ain't no seer. I've seen plenty of vermin seers in mah short time in my militia, but you sure as heck ain't 'un." Griffith spoke, his words mixed with well spoke words, and some well, more slander like modifications of words," Furthermore," he continued walking over to the unconcious dibbun, and picking it up by its shirt, and pointing at it," I won't kill you just cause yer mad. Now, I'm off to that 'mystical' place Redwall to return their..." he paused glancing at it once more, " 'dibbun'. I suggest you leave me be, or I may have to kill yew." He finished. It was ironic that he claimed River' to be mad, but hey, River did give him a crappy lie, and Griffith was very judgemental.

Once the mouse finished speaking, he glanced down the trail uncertainly. He was hesitant, but eventually started walking. It was obvious he had no clue which way he was going...

[Rocky]

The rat that ran free ran straight for the woods. Bad for him. Fun for another beast. Springheel Jakk was walking along, well... prancing actually... and then he spotted the fleeing rat. Springheel hid by a tree, and when the rat ran by, he stepped out and clotheslined him. Unfortunately, Springheel's arm slammed unusually hard into the rats head, knocking him out cold. "Stupid rat." Springheel muttered. He started rubbing his arm, unaware of the talking beasts a few yards ahead of him.

His ears twitched, and he finally started picking up sounds of speech.

"You as heck ain't 'un" He heard one say. Then, he heard "I wont kill you" and at that moment, Springheel hauled the unconscious rat up by his neck, and dragged him out towards where the voices came. He threw the rat through the borderline between woods and path, and then walked out after him.

"How do ya' kno' 'e ain't a seer, laddie?" Springheel winked. The silver fox moved closer to Griff, then pointed to the rat, "Lose somethin', mate?" He asked sarcastically. Something kept Spring's normal, happy-go-fun attitude and check, and now his stern, cautious attitude kicked in. Possibly the reason that a beasts life may be on the line, here.

"Look, I dont care who you are, mouse, and frankly, I dont think I want to know, either. But you saying you wouldnt kill that treemouse..." He turned and said to Rivertinn, "No punt intended." then continued from before, "... Does that mean you would kill him?" Springheel could be confusing at times. Sometimes his sentences didnt match up, but hopefully Grff understood where Spring was going.

Then Springheel pulled out a dagger and held it in one hand and started to twirl it expertly, "Maybe, since you're mad about losin' that rat, I should kill you?" He said, winking and smirking lightly. "You catch my drift, mate?"

O, this time Spring wasnt making sense on purpose. Maybe the mouse would actually understand that Spring was acting like an idiot. Hm, who knows, right?

"Now now, mousey. You dont need to get mad over losing a rat because ya tripped. Now thats just being foolish, and not watching yer step, mate. Seriously, how do you trip over another creature? I mean... How do you not see that squirrel?" Springheel was finally being 'understandable', and right now, his prime focus, for some unknown reason, was ticking off this mouse.

OOC: Not my best... Sorry...

[Skipper]

((Woo! Character flaws! ))

...Oh, so that's what a dibbun was...

Rivertinn cursed inwardly at his lack of preparation. He almost always had a well-thought out lie, but he hadn't expected to need one this time. Even so, the mouse wasn't going to kill him -- he had managed to save his own life through this little charade, and he could leave now. But it had not worked as he had wanted, for the mouse thought him mad. And that was the last thing Rivertinn needed.

Clearly, the mouse didn't know where he was going. So that was it, then. Rivertinn was heading for Redwall Abbey anyway, and already had a general idea of where to look. If he could manage to lead the mouse to Redwall Abbey, meanwhile try to discern some things from him discretely, he might be able to pull off looking like a seer.

He studied the dibbun. It was a young vole virtually covered in dirt and mud, especially its paws, probably from running. They were worn, and callused, and it appeared that this vole had worked its entire life, or what short life it had lived thus far. Something else was odd about the dibbun. It wasn't wearing the traditional Abbey habits, but instead the faded, tattered clothing characteristic of those who lived further south. It couldn't be an abbey dibbun.

He was about to say something when he heard a thud. It was the body of the rat, its breathing barely visible. The sound was followed by another, this one a voice, belonging to what could only be described as the strangest fox Rivertinn had ever seen. He waited until the fox had finished speaking, though none of it made the least bit of sense.

"...Now now, mousey. You dont need to get mad over losing a rat because ya tripped. Now thats just being foolish, and not watching yer step, mate. Seriously, how do you trip over another creature? I mean... How do you not see that squirrel?"

Rivertinn stared at the fox for a moment. "Well, hello, Jakk," he said finally after a long pause.

Rivertinn had heard of the fox -- Springheel Jakk wasn't the most normal of beasts. As a matter of fact, the squirrel found it difficult to find a place where the name was not mentioned. Although every story told of the fox was different, each one had roots in the truth, and this beast seemed to match up perfectly with those roots. Of course, it wasn't easy immediately discerning the identity of a stranger one only hears of in stories, but the awkward pause had helped. Yes, if Rivertinn was knowledgeable in anything, it would be stories, and how quickly they spread...that, and boats, sailing, and acrobatics..........oh, and dancing...No, no, that's stupid...

Even when in thought, Rivertinn couldn't agree with himself.

[Rocky]

Spring turned sharply and stared at Rivertinn, "You know my name?" Springheel's paw sort of went dead and he dropped his dagger and walked over to Rivertinn. "Stories, right? I've heard many about me. Some poeple still dont know its me, even though Im probably the only beast in these parts that wears fur clothing." Then he stared more at Rivertinn. The way this squirrel acted, somewhat tipped off that him and this squirrel shared something. Rivertinn was known as Half-Mad, but the way Springheel looked at everything, people who were normal were the mad ones. "Rivertinn McHedj... Dont be startled how I know you. Ive heard about you. My grandmother told me one once. you're supposedly half mad, and are an expert at acrobatics. We share something in common." Springheel said.

then he turned back and stared at Griff. This mouse was a warrior. Spring could tell by the way he looked. That fighter's stare, the scarred hands, his gait the way he walked. Not many believe it, but people can know a lot by the way somebeast looked.

[Griffith]

Griffith listened to the words exchanged to him, and then between the two beasts. The mouse warrior was unamused and this was very easy to note by him playing around with his dagger as the two spoke, all whilst leaning up against a tree.

The warrior stood up straight eventually though, when he was positive the verbal engagements were finished. Griff took a brief moment to glance at the palm of his bandaged left hand and wrist, and gave a sigh. He picked up the dibbun once again and small coy smile formed on the young warrior's face.
" Congratulations, you psychotic piles of fur know each other," Griff replied, Jakk's focus of annoying Griff, had worked quite well.

His tail swished back and forth as his eyes narrowed. Being shorter didn't make him less of a warrior than anyone. He had fought beasts with great size, and slain them.
" Now, for starters, I doubt you could kill me, but frankly, I don't want to find out because I got more important things to deal with; like getting to Redwall for example," he continued before mumbling under his breath," wherever the hell that is..." he finished almost silently, his anger expressed even more. " 'n by the way, what're you starin' at Jakk, eh?"

[Rocky]

"Psychotic, eh? No, we're not psychotic... My friend here, Rivertinn... He's supposedly half mad, but that don't make him psychotic, eh? And me? Im anything but! Im just a silver furred fox, who likes acrobatics and wears fur... Does that make me psychotic? Not at all, mate. Not... at... all." Springheel exclaimed in his normal cheery tone, for his angry, cautious tone had somewhat simmered down.

Springheel was really amused at this mouse's actions. He comes off rude, but to that dibbun, he smiles? Mhm. "All probably an act." Springheel muttered. His tail swished, and a smirk curled upon the lips of Springheel Jakk at Griff's "accusation".

"You doubt you I could kill you?" Springheel scoffed. "Surely you didn't take my attitude and little threat, which by all means was just to teach a lesson, if ya know what I mean, seriously. I wouldn't harm you unless you harmed me, or another creature standing here, aside from maybe, an enemy." Spring mused aloud. Yes this mouse was a warrior, and Springheel didn't like fighting, but if they did fight, Springheel would basically just dodge around until the mouse tired out, then come in close with fists, but then again... Springheel hoped a fight wouldn't break out at all.

Then, the fox's eyes went slim and narrow, and a growl escaped his lips, "You don't call me Jakk. Neither do you, squirrel. I don't go by that name anymore, so just drop it, and never bring it up. I go by Springheel, Fleetfoot, or Springheel Jakk. Not just Jakk, so never call me that again." He somewhat snapped, still growling slightly.

OOC: Warning: My posts wont be my best, because of Writers Block.

[Griffith]

((sorry for the delay, thanksgiving madness ^^; but umm, by the way, I specified earlier that its a Redwall dibbun, since I need Griff' to go in that direction.))