Fall

[Nari Windrustle]

Nari blinked, slightly baffled by the rat's quick speech. She wasn't used to hearing creatures talk as fast as he did, but she wasn't exactly listening either. Nari was searching her memory for any sign that she knew who this was. She didn't like rats very much, and that could be the reason she had this growing uneasy feeling just looking at him. Judging by the fact their wasn't any sudden reaction from the otter next to her, this rat must be housed by Redwall. In fact, she knew she had seen him around Redwall. Just what was this guy's name? Fegud? Wregul? Magful? Nari rolled her eyes. As if. She stared intently at the rat while he back away. Wegful? No...no, it's...Weghul! That was it!

"...out before it's too late."

Nari snapped back into reality as the otter left with the rat. "Ah..." Nari step forward to follow but paused. Why should she follow them? If they needed her, they would have said something, and they didn't. She wasn't called for, and... Nari sighed, rubbing her forehead, disgusted with herself . 'When had I become so dependant on others? Why do I need them to tell me what I should do?'

Nari watched as they disappeared around a corner, her uneasy feeling still lingering. Nari raced after them, keeping the two in sight but still following at a little bit of a distance, remembering her teacher's words. "When it comes down to it, one must follow one's intsincts. Fifty percent of the time, they are correct." And as all Weghul did was walk, she remembered what she used to reply. "Even so, fifty percent of the time they're wrong."

Still, in this sort of situation, Nari had a right to be cautious.

OOC: Sorry that half of this post doesn't even need to be here. I tried not to make it too short.

[terg]

((Sorry it took me so long to post))

Bryric was precoccupied surveying the huge army out side Redwall, to see that Blake was about to run into him. When he did his head twisted quickly to hold the warrior mouse in his gaze. He didn't know the mouse and his son very much but he did know that Blake was fair and a good fighter. He hoped he, Barr and the other warriors in the abbey would have a brilliant plan to save the abbey.

"Blake... Do you need somthin'?" Bryric eyed the young Kitt in the mouse's paws. He hoped he was not asked to take the Dibbun inside, he was getting a bit tired of playing nurse maid.

Bryric followed Blake's gaze to Weghul. Hadn't he just been expressing to himself his dislike of the rat? Then as his gaze drifted he saw the half moon glint off a piece of metal. Metal? Bryirc peered closer and could make out the four pronged shape. Grapling hooks. How had they been attached with no beast hearing? Bryric broke off from Blake and raced toward the intruding tools. As he ran he called "Over 'ere! There's some grappling hooks!" He reached the wall and peered down. He saw several vermin climbing hte stout ropes. They most likely had heard his calls so it was no use hiding himself. Digging into his belt pouch he groaned. He had nothing that even resembled something sharp that he could cut the ropes with.

HIs heart pounding the old squirrel lept back down the steps in search of a knife, trimming shears, a shovel, anything.

[stormmouce]

As the old squirrel was looking for something sharp Stormmouce seen this and walk over to him and ask "Excuses sir but what are you looking for i may be of some help." Stormmouce what for answer to his question from the old squirrel.

[Skipper]

"'Scuse me," had said Blake initially as an automatic response to colliding with Bryric.

"Blake... Do you need somthin'?"

"No, er, sorry -- I. . ." Blake stopped, looking rather curiously at something over Bryric's shoulder. Was that a grappling hook? It was! And another... and another... Finally, the urgency of the situation settled on the swordsmouse.

He followed Bryric's lead, and scampered frantically, hither and thither, for something to cut the ropes with. Nearly a moment after Blake had started, he stopped as a sudden thought occurred to him. Quickly, Blake turned to run back toward the Great Hall, holding a rather confused Kitt tightly in his arms.

---

Barr couldn't stand it any longer. He extended a concerned paw to grip Lachie's shoulder. Somehow, that did it. Lachie's seizure, for lack of a better word, ended immediately, but Lachie seemed completely unconscious. It lasted for but a moment. Just as Barr open his mouth to speak, Lachie's eyes snapped open.

"Wot did ye see?" asked the old otter.

Not bothering to look up until mid-sentence, Lachie elucidated exactly what he had seen in his vision. "There's a tunnel system unner the h'abbey. Er, there's only one 'at'll keep ye safe. It --" Lachie paused for a moment. "Where's Tirael?"

---

Running as fast as he could without endangering little Kitt, Blake shot across the Great Hall, skidding to a halt before the great tapestry. He instinctively gazed up at the depictions, then, less instinctively, above the tapestry itself. There, placed carefully just above the woven images, rested the most legendary weapon in all of Mossflower: the sword of Martin the Warrior. Quickly, he snatched the sword from its resting place, and flew from the Hall, but just as he neared the entrance, he stopped, turning back to look at Martin the Warrior a final time -- it was less of an image this time, and more the actual Warrior himself. With that, Blake turned, and exited the Great Hall.

---

Just as Lachie was speaking, a four pronged hook sailed over their heads. Barr swiftly pulled Lachie away, who was directly in line of danger of being hooked rather than the wall. Ultimately, the grappling hook attached itself to the wall.

Barr quickly drew a small knife, something he always carried with him for convenience, despite the dictates of abbey rules. He immediately began sawing away at the nearest thick rope. All ready, vermin were scaling the walls.

Lachie turned around in his chair to scan the grounds quickly. He found Bryric, who was looking for something sharp, and Blake who was carrying what appeared to be Martin's sword. No Tirael, that he could see from this view. Where was he? And what of the mousemaid who had started to help him up the stairs? Lachie heard a noise, and, distracted, looked up to see the sparrows beginning to descend upon the invading vermin.

"Lachlan!"

The young otter jumped.

"Tell me wot ye saw!" Barr growled as he worked away furiously at the rope.

"Er," began Lachie, startled by the sudden gruff command, "There's a tunnel that leads unner, an' to the south o' the abbey. Ye kin fin' it inna cellars. 't's th'only way out."

Barr had cut only half through the first rope when he glanced to his left, seeing a rat who'd almost completely ascended the wall. He stopped sawing, ran over to the neighboring hook just as the rat reached the top. To the rat's surprise, a burly otter grabbed him by the scruff and shirt, and heaved him over the other side of the wall. The noise following was somewhat unpleasant, but Barr ignored it entirely, and resumed sawing at the first rope.

He knew that it was necessary to get as many beasts as he could to the cellars, but this wasn't his main concern for the moment. Lachie, on the other paw, had an entirely different plan in mind. He could presently be seen flying down the stairs in his wheelchair.

"Tirael!" he barked.

---

((I'll leave it at that for now.))

[dirgecallers]

Weghul smirked as he led Tirael to the 'secret way'. He had been so sure that the other otter would have smelled something was off. It would have been all over for him then. But as it was, he had fooled them both. He was a clever rat indeed. But the time for this smugness was rapidly closing, soon he would have to act.

Ah, they had reached the point where Weghul had planned to set the trap. The rat pointed to a crack near the bottom of the wall. It looked barely big enough to fit a rat in, let alone an otter. But given enough prodding, an otter could probably fit. The rat watched Tirael give the opening a dubious glance.

"Whet you waiting fer?" Weghul cried. In his desperation he got behind the otter and yelled in his ears. "Den bigga army around te kill us...and yousa stick here daydreamin' about the daisies!" While the otter was still distracted, Weghul aimed a kick at Tirael's legs. This move was ostensibly to prod him into moving in the hole, but if Weghul was lucky it would incacipate Tirael.

(Done)

[Tirael]

As rat and otter walked hurriedly across the grounds, Tirael made a very conscious effort to not leave his back exposed to Weghul. Having him in his line of sight was even better, so he tried his best to stay a little behind the rat. He was still uncomfortable, though, probably because they were getting farther and farther away from where the other abbeybeasts, and therefore help, were.

"...that's it?" he couldn't help say as Weghul exposed his 'discovery.' In the dark of the night, it was difficult to see just how deep the hole was, though he could already tell it would be difficult to fit through for all but those no more than a few seasons out of Dibbunhood. He was about to turn and question what they were supposed to do with it when the rat started panicking.

"Whet you waiting fer?" Tirael winced and clapped a paw to his ear as Weghul yelled into it. "Den bigga army around te kill us...and yousa stick here daydreamin' about the daisies!"

Tirael yelped as Weghul's footpaw hit his lower leg. Hard. Reflexes caused him to bend his leg, and he fell, turning and impacting the wall as he did. Grabbing one edge of the hole for support, he began to haul himself up, saying, "What is the matter with-"

Finally he realized what was going on. The irresistible lure, the distance from the others, the desperation...it was a trap!

Immediately, the otter felt a rather unpleasant mixture of emotions: hatred for Weghul, bitterness that he'd allowed himself to fall for this, and uncertain fear. Mostly, it was the hatred that made its way to his face as he glared at the rat standing in front of him. "You vile little!..."

[terg]

Bryric whirled on Stormmouse. "Somthing sharp... sword, knife!" HIs speech was coming quickly in light of the urgency of the situation. He gasped in a gulp of air and suddenly saw Blake again. He was running across the lawn toward the wal Bryric had just exited weilding the marvolous sword of Martin.

In all his years at Redwall Bryric had seen very few animals wield the great sword. It had been brought down from it's brackets daily and polished though it never really needed it. He had seen Barr with it several times but that was about it. He cold only stare in awe at the sword as Blake raced toward the grappling hooks. He didn't feel any envy against the mouse since he wasn't a warrior himself.

Suddenly he snapped back to reality. Blake might possibly be able to cut all the lines before vermin where swarming into Redwal, but it was very unlikely that he wouldn't need help. Racing away again he entered the bell tower where a meager supply of old rusty weapons was kept. Scooping up a small dagger he ran back to the wall where Blake was already.

[stormmouce]

Stormmouce was about to say he has a sword with him but the squirrel left so Stormmouce look to where he was looking to see a great sword head up the wall steps. With out thinking Stormmouce ran to the wall steps and un-sheathed one of his long swords and ran up the steps to see if he could be any more help up there to any one.

[Skipper]

Blake aided Bryric in the cutting of the hooks' ropes. Martin's sword cut through them with surprising ease for a blade of such age. One fox who'd managed to climb onto the wall faster than his peers shot a glance toward Blake and Bryric. Then, drawing a wicked-looking sword, advanced at frightening speed.

Blake was experienced in swinging swords around, but strictly as an art. He honestly knew nothing about actual swordfighting. Well, no time to learn now...

The fox ran up in a sort of crouch, probably intending to stab Blake in the stomach. He saw the move coming, and quickly swung his sword in a diagonal uppercut, angled somewhat to the left. To Blake's horror, the sword severed the fox's right paw, sending it and its weapon clattering to the ground. Martin's sword was lighter than the mouse had anticipated. He finished the job quickly with a single thrust to the fox's chest, and resumed once again cutting ropes.

The mouse dearly hoped (however futile) that he would not have to kill anybeast else again.

---

Barr wasn't having an easy time of fending off the vermin. They just kept coming. He'd all ready killed four of them -- one with his knife, the other three with gravity.

"Lachie!" he called. No reply. As soon as he'd finished cutting through the rope, he spun around to find Lachie, but the seer wasn't there.

"Lachie!" he barked once more as he ran down the stairs. Where had that otter gone?

---

Lachie had rounded the corner just in time to see Tirael call Weghul a vile little...

"Wretch!" Lachie called from behind Weghul, approaching at a rather quick pace for one chair-bound.

"Pariah!" He continued verbalizing possible endings to Tirael's last fragment of a statement. "Useless heap of . . . clams? . . ." Lachie hadn't thought that last one through. "No -- no, that doesn't..."

At a glance, it quite appeared that the otter was just wasting time -- virtually throwing it out the window, really, but upon considering Tirael's predicament, it seemed that any distraction would do. Yes, Lachlan was buying time, all the while using the current, otherwise wasted time to scan Weghul. Time to see if he could glean anything from the rat.

---

((That works, right?))

[dirgecallers]

Weghul knew instantly that his cover was blown. The otter was screaming and screaming at him in rage. The other otter standing aloof was watching him suspicioulsy and with increasing anger. The rat knew he had precious llttle time to act. If he was to wait, promptly he would be set upon and captured.

The rat jumped suddenly in the direction of Lachie. He pointed and jabbed his paw at the otter in a threatenening manner. "Den you come no closer, nor git me in dem ways!" Weghul shouted at the otter. "Is be bringing id down hard on yew so yew better wotch it iffn yor face interupts!"

Jumping back suddenly towards Tirael, Weghul landed on all four of his paws at once. With another bound, he landed next to the fallen otter. Rearing up suddenly, he laid a paw onTirael's leg. With his other paw, he applied all his force to keep it steady. Then he jumped on the leg.

(done)

[Tirael]

"Wretch!"

Tirael looked up hopefully; somebody had come to help him! His joy was cut off as he saw it was Lachie. What was he supposed to do, run Weghul over?

...actually, that would have been a pretty good idea, but it didn't seem like that was the sea otter's intention. He just kept yelling, leaving his friend rather at the mercy of the rat. Somehow, it didn't seem like a very good plan, and besides, Tirael didn't even think 'pariah' was necessarily an insult. 'Useless heap of clams' was just too odd to think about, especially when he was still in this position.

"Den you come no closer, nor git me in dem ways! Is be bringing id down hard on yew so yew better wotch it iffn yor face interupts!"

Tirael didn't exactly understand what Weghul was saying, but he didn't have any time to question it. Flinching as the rat leaped back very close to him, he tried to move away, but was soon pinned by the leg. After a moment, he realized what the plan was, and he tried even harder to pull himself away. But it was too late.

"Augh!" he yelled, his entire body tensing with pain as Weghul landed on his outstretched leg. He wasn't sure how much damage had been done, but it hurt. A lot. Trying to free his leg, he kicked out at Weghul with his other one, hoping nothing was actually broken. The ability to run, or at least walk, was rather important at times like this.

[Skipper]

((Evidently not.))

---

His plan failed. It failed worse than any of his plans ever had. At least, that's how it was as far as Lachie was concerned. Usually, beasts stopped, but the only thing Weghul did was spout something incomprehensible, then jump on Tirael's leg.

Tirael was kicking at the rat, obviously in loads of pain, but Lachie felt helpless to do anything. What use was a lame otter? He closed a fist tightly around a knife he held behind his back, stolen from his father. His eyes narrowing on the rat, he felt something he'd never experienced before: rage.

But he couldn't charge the rat, could he? Wouldn't that just be handing himself over to Weghul? All Lachie could think to do was throw the knife at the rat, and hope dearly that it struck. He tossed the weapon up in the air lightly to get a good feel of it, catching it by the blade by accident. Great.

His father had never taught him how to use projectiles, lacking depth perception, himself. Doing the only thing he knew to do, Lachie mentally sped through all possible outcomes, using only the slight knowledge he gained from the painful toss to decide on the exact way in which to throw it. This showed in a kind of psychic episode, his left paw thumping the arm of his chair rapidly (at this point, he had the knife hidden again, though his paw was quite bloody).

The otter took up the knife, and attempted to match the exact movements outlined in his "visions." He diverged only slightly from his intention, but he was seventy-two percent certain that it wouldn't matter.

---

((Do with that what you will. I have one last idea -- one far more rational -- but I can't use it 'til the next post, probably.))

[terg]

Bryric's knife cut through the last climbing rope. The once razor sharp edge was now chipped since it had been unavoidable that it would hit the sandstone wall while he was hacking at the rope. Blake seemed to know what he was doing and thankfully Bryric had not had to fight of any vermin. He had been limited to simply sending them to their likely death. He had tried to shut his ears to the horrible screams that came as the vermin fell and the barely audible moans of those who survived.

The squirrel now thrust the knife into his belt wondering if he would have to use it for somthing else. He was climbing slowly back down the wall steps when he heard the yells from Tirael, Lachie and Weghul. His gaze shot to the three beasts and he took it all in. Suddenly his disapproval of Weghul was justified. He began to lope over toward them, he couldn't muster himself enough to run. He saw Lachie throw the knife and the flash of silver was just barely visible in the night. He hoep Lachie had learned somthing about weapons.

Bryric reached Lachie's side as the dagger was midway through it's flight. He continued to move quickly forward hoping to confront Weghul though he had really no idea what to do if he did.

[dirgecallers]

By some sheer miracle, the knife did not hit Weghul. Instead, it buried itself point down into the ground. Always one to take advantage of such an opportunity, the rat snatched the hilt off the ground. Snarling, he then brandished it high. He was pleased with how sharp it was. What a generous enemy!

With knife in hand, Weghul jumped to where Tirael lay. Violently catching him by the scruff of his neck, he held the blade to the otters chest. He noticed that the other beasts were attempting to get closer, so he decided to warn them not to attempt anything 'heroic'. With a snarl, he actually pressed the (flat!) edge of the blade to Tiraels throat.

"Den you kum closer!" Weghul shouted. "Inna I killie the ottah, an yew won like dat no no." Still screaming, Weghul made threatening motions with his paw, as if pantomiming a throat being slit. "Din me taking dis ottah, and yew no follow. Kin you no follow!"

(Done)

[Tirael]

Tirael didn't notice as Lachie threw the knife; he was simply just relieved as Weghul let go of his leg. Making a quick assessment, he determined it probably wasn't broken, but the bone had been stressed, and he'd probably develop a nice set of bruises. He could walk, but he wasn't sure how long it would be before it wasn't painful.

Looking up, he saw Weghul advancing with- how'd he get a knife!? Letting out a small grunt of pain as he was hauled up by the scruff of his neck, he shifted his weight onto his non-injured leg as quickly as he could think to do it. Then there was a knife against his throat. Gasping, Tirael tried to maintain a calm face for the benefit of the others nearby, who probably wouldn't be able to think as clearly if he was panicking.

Still, the cold steel pressed against him was very disconcerting, especially for an Abbeydweller who'd never been trained about hostage situations. Especially about being a hostage.

"Den you kum closer! Inna I killie the ottah, an yew won like dat no no."

Tirael winced as his captor illustrated his intentions through paw gestures. As if he wasn't very aware of the situation he was in already. He glanced at Lachie, unable to keep the fear out of his eyes and wondering faintly what his friend was thinking.

"Din me taking dis ottah, and yew no follow. Kin you no follow!"

The otter didn't even want to know where Weghul could want to take him. He could try to analyze it, but he was rapidly finding out that it usually led to unpleasant conclusions...