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Post by Tirael on Oct 12, 2013 2:45:07 GMT -6
This really wasn't Tirael's day.
It had started out like any other: the young otter had woken up, had some berries and the last of his bread, then struck off northward. He had to figure that he'd run into somebeast that way, as his route would ultimately take him near the ford that many creatures used to cross the River Moss. And where other creatures were, there tended to be food and supplies--easy pickings for one who knew how to take them.
Of course, this plan (if one could call a vague notion a 'plan') relied heavily on Tirael finding signs of life in the forest besides himself, and as of noontime, that particular requirement was still unfulfilled. At another time, Tirael wouldnt have minded; despite the chilly air, Mossflower Wood was quite pleasant to the solitary otter. The sound of leaves crunching underpaw, intermingling with snatches of humming and quiet singing on his part, made for a charming duet. He supposed there might be a reason his last name was 'Larksong' after all.
Music and etymology were cast aside, however, when his elusive target finally became a reality. Up ahead, he could hear faint pawsteps, growing louder as they approached. It was all Tirael could do to dart behind a tree and hide, holding his breath as he listened to his potential quarry.
"I thought I heard something?..."
"Well, I sure don't see anybeast around. You're just getting paranoid, mate."
Tirael could almost hear the eye-roll that responded to that accusation. "Whatever. Just keep an ear out, okay? If the soldiers find our camp..." And with that, the pair resumed their patrol, leaving Tirael to breathe a sigh of relief. Not only had he not been discovered, he'd just learned they had a camp.
Camps meant food.
Heading back in the direction the pair had come from, Tirael soon found himself gazing at a somewhat unimpressive campsite. It was obvious that the various shelters had been thrown together quickly; the occupants, mostly otters, had obviously been in some kind of hurry. But as disorganized as their setup seemed to be, Tirael had to admit they looked rather fierce. Almost all were armed, and the way they carried themselves, it was clear that their weapons were anything but ornamental.
He'd just have to work at his sneakiest.
Skirting the edge of the clearing, the young otter found a tent that had been set up right against the foliage of a large bush. It provided perfect cover for him to dig out a small depression in the dirt, allowing him to slip under the fabric and into the tent itself. After allowing himself a moment to adjust to the darkness inside, Tirael quickly set about. A defenseless loaf of nutbread and a pair of waterskins were shoved into his supply bag, and as soon as they were securely stowed away, he slid the satchel out through the 'exit' he'd made. With any luck, the next tent would be even more--
A sudden light startled Tirael, and as he winced and shielded his eyes with a paw, he realized he'd let his guard down. Idiot. Upon lowering his paw, he found himself face to face with one of the ottercrew, no doubt the resident of this particular tent. "Uh..." was all he uttered before making desperately for the back exit. "OY!" cried the older otter, clamping a paw around Tirael's ankle. "What d'you think you're doin', kid!?"
The commotion attracted a great deal of attention, and it was only moments before another otter, just as strong and unamused as the first, came to assist. Tirael was pulled out and grabbed by the arms, his attempts to pull himself free failing miserably. His protests to be let go fell on deaf ears, as his would-be victims were busy discussing what to do with him.
"Treble's in charge while Skip's on patrol," said the newcomer, the larger and gruffer of the two.
"Right, then HE can decide what to do with the little thief," growled the smaller one. And without any further ado, the pair pulled their kicking, flailing charge across the camp to Treble's tent.
"Oy, Treble! We've got a little problem here!" the larger otter called.
This really wasn't Tirael's day.
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Oct 13, 2013 23:10:45 GMT -6
"Whut is it?"
Treble asked, exiting the tent with a knife and whetstone in paw. He had set up to create javelins and arrows, a time consuming task, outside his tent. The process of sharpening the hard wood of the javelin staves had dulled his knife, however, and he'd needed to search for his whetstone. The arrows were easier, he was only needed to attach the heads, they had already been straightened and trimmed by somebeast else, and somebeast else entirely would feather them.
He sat down on his stump and studied the the otters in front of him. The two holding the middle one he recognized. It was the younger one in the middle that caught his attention. He was awfully young to be putting up such a fight, what had he been doing?
Jake shook the interloper, to throw off his balance. Perhaps that would stop him struggling so much. He was certainly stronger than he looked, to put up such a fight. If Garth hadn't shown up to help him, he didn't know how he'd hold him alone.
"Caught 'im prowlin' through me tent, Treb." He glowered at the young otterlad. "No telling what he's been up to! Prolly stealin' us blind."
"Well." Treble turned to the struggling teen. "Whut 'ave ye to say fer yerself?"
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Post by Tirael on Oct 13, 2013 23:38:35 GMT -6
"Whut is it?"
The voice that came from inside the tent didn't really register with Tirael. He was too busy trying to get away from the pair that had caught him, but given that this was a battle between a slightly undernourished teenager and two decidedly athletic adults, the advantage was hardly his. But desperation was lending him plenty of extra strength, something he'd probably be proud of if he was stupid enough to care about that right now.
But his captors did care, for reasons that had nothing to do with pride. (Presumably, it was more about getting tired of dealing with his constant struggling.) As their apparent leader was emerging from his tent, the first otter jostled Tirael roughly, managing to briefly disrupt the young thief's 'brilliant escape.' After shooting a hateful look at Jake, Tirael turned a warier gaze at the otter who'd come out of the tent. He was vaguely surprised that it was a sea otter, but that wasn't really the most important thing to worry about.
No, what Tirael needed to worry about was, how strictly did this sea otter enforce what he'd consider 'justice?'
"Caught 'im prowlin' through me tent, Treb." The explanation was coupled with quite the dirty look in Tirael's direction. "No telling what he's been up to! Prolly stealin' us blind."
Huh, hardly, Tirael thought to himself. It wasn't exactly like Jake had even left much for him to steal; bread and water was by no means a fortune. To protest this inflation of his misdeeds, he strained against his guards again, but it was no longer really done in the hope that he could free himself. That much was obviously not in the cards. So, finally ceasing with the pointless struggling, the teenaged otter gave his judge and jury a nervous, but defiant, look.
"Well. Whut 'ave ye to say fer yerself?"
"Does it really matter?" Tirael blurted before realizing that probably wouldn't go over well. Of course it didn't matter; it wasn't like he could say he'd wandered into the tent and grabbed the food by accident. But as far as he could tell, this authority figure was comparatively calm, and being rude to him would probably not get Tirael anywhere good. "I wasn't 'stealing you blind,'" he remarked, returning Jake's disapproving glare. "I...I was just taking food, alright? And not even that much!" he added, giving Treble a more pleading look.
If there were heartstrings to pull on here, that might be his best bet. His only bet.
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Oct 14, 2013 0:52:11 GMT -6
Treble gave the boy another, more thorough look. He was skinny, and both he and his clothing had clearly seen better days. Shells, he’s younger than Tampa. What had he been through? He was clearly defensive; anger and defiance were on his face, hiding his fear. All were understandable, who wanted to be caught doing something they shouldn’t? And if they were, who wouldn’t be afraid of punishment?
"Does it really matter?" Tirael blurted. "I wasn't 'stealing you blind,'" he remarked, returning Jake's disapproving glare. "I...I was just taking food, alright? And not even that much!" he added, giving Treble a more pleading look.
“It matters.” Treble said evenly, watching him as he continued his pleading. Conflicts were common on ship, although none usually involved stealing. None that came up before the officers, anyway. Crews were notoriously hard on thieves. Sailing was hard enough without one person taking more than their share, or even worse, taking another’s few possessions. No one had much of a personal nature.
“Did ye stop t’think that food might be all that we had?” He enquired. They were only out here for a short time, but all the Redwallers they had found were quickly going through all their food. Some hadn’t eaten in days. It was why Jake had moved into the supply tent, as cook he was often up at all hours to feed stragglers. Unfortunately they were down to bread and the dregs of the barrels. Some had been refilled with clear water from the stream, but it was only a matter of days before they would need to return to Camp Willow. Treb almost expected Skipper to order the move tomorrow.
Of course, the young otter didn’t look like he’d eaten well… well, ever. “Whut’s yer name? Why didn’t you just ask fer food, if ye needed it that much?”
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Post by Tirael on Oct 14, 2013 1:25:44 GMT -6
“It matters.”
It was all Tirael could do to not roll his eyes at that assertion. How, exactly, did it matter? Was this Treble so deluded that he really thought giving his prisoner a chance to speak meant anything? They were already upset with him. They'd already caught him. And it was quite obvious that neither of the otters who still had a vice grip on him were going to let go. So no, as far as Tirael was concerned, it did not matter.
“Did ye stop t’think that food might be all that we had?”
That kind of thought hadn't gone through Tirael's mind. In fact, it was one of those things that never went through his mind. He never bothered to steal from anybeast who had so little to give--but whether that was out of the last shreds of his conscience, or simply from the logic that he could acquire more from someone else, he couldn't say. Besides, it stretched his credulity that this crew of large, strong riverdogs wouldn't easily be able to go out and forage, or fish, or something like that. Being in a clan afforded you the time and resources to go out and gather.
And meanwhile, whatever you didn't get around to eating, Tirael would be glad to take, consent not really being an object of concern.
“Whut’s yer name? Why didn’t you just ask fer food, if ye needed it that much?”
He couldn't help it. Not after a question like that. Unbidden, Tirael's eyes rolled up, revealing just what he thought of Treble's query. "Right, because everybeast is just dying to give their food away. Do you think I just steal for the fun of it?" Now, to be fair, he had never bothered asking that question before. But in all his life, he couldn't recall ever seeing that level of generosity in a creature. So why would he expect it of total strangers?
Realizing that he hadn't answered the first question, the young otter bit his lip, then sighed. "My name's Tirael. Tirael Larksong." Perhaps it was just time to cut his losses and get out of here. Treble was reasonable, maybe he could talk his way to freedom after all. "So...how about you have these two let go of me, I give you back what I took, and we can all forget I was ever here. That works...right...?"
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Oct 14, 2013 2:29:04 GMT -6
Treble ignored the young otter’s insolence. “Tirael, then. Well, I’m sorry to say, that doesn’t work for me. We’ll be heading back t’Camp Willow soon, but until then I’m goin’ to put ye t’work. Y’can either work ‘ere with me, or I’ll let Jake ‘ere take ye back to the mess t’work. Yer choice, lad.”
He didn’t pause in his careful sharpening of the javelin point. These were hard, already cured wood. Although they didn’t have any metal points, they hardly needed them. Once sharpened to a deadly point, they could be reused until they broke, which was a long time under normal circumstances.
“And in return,” He continued, “You’ll get food. Same as we get. O’ course you can leave when we return to the Camp, but there y’could get better food. If ye wanted, that is.” They weren’t bothering to forage for food for this camp, it was only temporary. Any food the area provided was brought back to Camp Willow, where they were feeding many more than the Camp normally held. Treble suspected that the displaced Redwallers would have to find someplace else to go, Camp Willow was not built for such numbers. He also worried about the silence from Redwall itself. In his experience silence from an enemy was not a good sign.
“Well?” He lifted one heavy brow at the lad, awaiting his answer.
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Post by Tirael on Oct 14, 2013 17:29:03 GMT -6
“Tirael, then. Well, I’m sorry to say, that doesn’t work for me."
Tirael wilted. It had been worth a shot, but he had to admit he didn't really think that plan would work.
We’ll be heading back t’Camp Willow soon, but until then I’m goin’ to put ye t’work. Y’can either work ‘ere with me, or I’ll let Jake ‘ere take ye back to the mess t’work. Yer choice, lad.”
So that was his punishment. 'Work.' The sentence elicited an immediate frown from Tirael, who was quite certain that there was going to be no set amount of time that he would be forced to labor for the otter crew. After all, his last work experience had only ended because his 'employers' had been too distracted to finish tying him up. He was in no mood to repeat that particular portion of his life.
But if he had to work, then it was quite obvious who he'd prefer to do it with. Jake, whose contempt for Tirael was still plastered all over his face, would no doubt try to make it as miserable for the young otter as he could. After all, he was the one Tirael had tried to rob, he had the most personal interest in gaining vengeance for this (petty, as far as Tirael was concerned) crime. Treble, meanwhile, seemed to be fairly calm about the affair. He might even protect the captive if Jake was dissatisfied with this relatively lenient punishment.
So it wasn't a hard choice.
“And in return, you’ll get food. Same as we get. O’ course you can leave when we return to the Camp, but there y’could get better food. If ye wanted, that is.”
Tirael raised a brow. He wasn't convinced that Treble was being entirely honest with him. Mostly because this entire scenario seemed far too...fair. If he'd been caught stealing from the vermin who'd once owned him, he'd be beaten to within an inch of his life for the transgression. Meanwhile, Treble was offering him food and simple, short-term labor. The whole thing seemed fishy, if only because Tirael had never been well acquainted with reasonable creatures.
“Well?”
A moment of silence passed, in which river and sea otter looked each other in the eye. Tirael was searching that impassive face for signs of deception, or really of anything beyond serene, if firm, comportment. But there was nothing. "...how do I know you'll really let me go when you leave?" he asked, eyes narrowing slightly. He didn't expect much of an answer, but he had to let Treble know that he wasn't going to fall for this easily.
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Oct 14, 2013 23:23:41 GMT -6
“Well, I guess yer just gonna hafta trust me.” Treb said with a chuckle, motioning for Jake and Garth to release their captive. Jake grumbled a little but let go, shooting another frustrated look at Tirael before stalking back to the supply tent to assess the damages. Garth was more affable, with the matter resolved and Tirael under Treble’s watchful eye he was satisfied. Nothing really ruffled the big otter’s fur for very long.
“C’mon.” Treble motioned for Tirael to find a clear spot and sit. His demeanor said that he fully expected cooperation, and he wouldn’t just sit and accept it if Tirael ran off. They had made a bargain, even if Treb had been a bit on the advantaged side of that agreement. Still, he rather thought the idea of easy food would keep the lad here for a little while. Just this side of starving wasn’t a state he was unfamiliar with.
“Have ye ever made weapons afore?” He questioned the lad, knife rasping out firm, steady strokes. Curls of hardwood piled around his footpaws and caught in his tunic and fur.
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Post by Tirael on Oct 15, 2013 0:08:56 GMT -6
“Well, I guess yer just gonna hafta trust me.”
Tirael couldn't help but make a face at that. Why on earth would he trust them? It wasn't like they had anything to gain by letting him go once they were done with him. Or more likely, they'd just never consider his debt repaid. They might even think they were in the right--or worse, that they were helping him. At this point, it was all the otter could do to hope they weren't that self-righteous.
At a nod from Treble, Jake and Garth finally released their grip on Tirael's arms. Immediately pulling away from both, he returned Jake's irritated glance with a smirk. At least he wouldn't have to deal with him much while he was stuck with this crew. It occurred to him that they might not even know his supply bag was still stashed behind the supply tent.
Maybe he'd just let them remain ignorant of that.
“C’mon.”
The command brought Tirael's attention back to his overseer. He glanced off to the forest, briefly considering if he should just bolt. With the element of surprise on his side, he just might get away; but it didn't take long to realize he'd be hopelessly outclassed. The ottercrew were all taller, stronger, and better-fed than he was, and he doubted he'd have much of a chance in a contest of speed. If he was going to have an opportunity to escape, it wasn't here. So, with nothing more than a sullen frown, he trudged over and plopped himself down across from the sea otter.
“Have ye ever made weapons afore?”
Tirael raised a brow at the question. "Weapons? No," he answered in blunt confusion. "If I ever needed one, I could have just taken one." Not that he would have even known how to use one if he had; his old owners had known better than to let him even touch anything more dangerous than a cooking knife. And in his later lifestyle, he didn't have any use for a weapon. Fighting involved letting your opponent knew you existed...and that was the one thing Tirael tried to never do.
Until now, it had worked out brilliantly.
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Oct 15, 2013 0:46:26 GMT -6
“Y’know, Jake’s t’cook.” Treble tested the angle of the end of the javelin as it tapered to a point. That point was sharp enough to prick even Treble’s hardened paws, though it didn’t break the skin. Not that it couldn’t, but that he wasn’t attempting to make it do so. He set the weapon on the other side of him, it joining a large pile of its own kind there. He didn’t immediately pick up another.
Instead he bent and gathered up one of the arrowshafts. These were easier to manage, and redoing them wasn’t a large task. It could be tedious, sure, but it wasn’t like trying to salvage one of the javelins. . The otters here used arrowheads with a little tail on the wide end that could be slipped into a slit in the shaft and tied with twine. The twine only tightened with water exposure, a benefit to the otter troops.
“Y’seem to be reasonably deft, Tir, so I’m sure ye can manage this.” He showed the younger otter the way to twist the twine until arrowhead was secure on shaft and then the peculiar knot that would not loosen nor unbalance the arrow. “Try.” Treble gave him his own length of twine, arrowhead and shaft. He watched the otterlad’s movements sharply.
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Post by Tirael on Oct 15, 2013 1:20:08 GMT -6
“Y’know, Jake’s t’cook.”
The somewhat disjointed statement drew another raised brow from Tirael. "Okay...?" he answered uncertainly, newly becoming a bit uncomfortable. He wasn't sure why Treble had bothered to bring that up. Was it supposed to matter to him? It wasn't like he had tried to rationalize that Jake was some kind of horrible monster who deserved to be stolen from. He was just another creature who had something Tirael needed. He'd get by without it in the end, and it'd help Tirael. So what was the problem?
“Y’seem to be reasonably deft, Tir, so I’m sure ye can manage this.”
If the use of a nickname bothered Tirael, he made no sign of it as he watched the sea otter demonstrate how to attach an arrowhead with twine. It didn't seem too hard; other than the knot itself, it really didn't seem too involved. The only real danger here was the tediousness of winding cords around sticks all day. The sheer boredom of it all could kill a creature.
No wonder Treble was going to have him do it.
“Try.”
And before Tirael knew it, the pieces of an arrow had been thrust at him. Taking each, he hesitantly began, glancing up occasionally to see Treble watching him like a hawk. As if he could do anything with the materials he'd been given; what was he supposed to do, stab someone with an arrowhead? It wouldn't be enough of an injury to keep them away, but it certainly would be enough to get him in way over his head with this crew.
But apparently, they weren't as good at thinking things through as he was. Either that, or they thought HE wasn't smart enough to. He vaguely wondered if he should be upset about that.
For now, getting the arrow right was Tirael's main concern. After all, while doing it wrong on purpose might be the more rebellious thing to do, he knew they'd probably just force him to do it all over again. Better to get it out of the way once and for all. As Treble had shown him, he slotted the arrowhead, wrapped the twine tightly at the base, and carefully knotted it. The resulting arrow was decent for a first try; but then, he'd made it rather slowly. Offering it to Treble, he muttered, "Here, you can stop staring at me like that now."
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Oct 15, 2013 1:55:33 GMT -6
Treble didn’t elaborate, although his point had been that it might not serve to antagonize the one that handled his food. Somebeasts just had to learn the hard way. Although he rather thought that Tirael would figure it out for himself, if he took the time and thought it out.
The sea otter took the arrow and inspected it. Tightening the cord a smidge, he laid it aside on the pile of finished arrows. They were surrounded by piles, of arrowshafts, unfinished javelins, arrowheads, twine cut to length, and of course, the finished products. Perhaps Treble was being a little paranoid here, but if he was, the Skipper was indulging him. Both otters agreed it was better to be prepared rather than not.
“None too shabby, lad.” He smiled and picked up a stave and set about turning it into a javelin with his knife. He didn’t give any further instructions, instead waiting to see what Tir would do, though his attention seemed to be focused on the wood beneath his paws.
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Post by Tirael on Oct 15, 2013 2:16:13 GMT -6
Treble took the arrow, apparently ignoring Tirael's surly comment about his staring. He simply examined the thing in silence, leaving Tirael to wonder what minor imperfection he'd find to criticize. After all, it wouldn't do to let somebeast working for you think they'd done something right. You had to keep them on their toes, never let them get comfortable. At least, that was what he was used to.
So Treble's ultimate proclamation was a surprise.
“None too shabby, lad.”
Tirael blinked. For a moment, he almost blurted out a 'thank you,' but he held his tongue. This might be some weird sea otter mind game, after all. He didn't think it was anything so involved as that, though; it was merely odd. Tirael couldn't get over the fact that he was being treated remarkably well for a captive, something that was contributing to his growing anxiety. This all might just be the set-up for something worse, something that could really be considered a punishment.
Treble's sudden apathy toward him wasn't helping things. Apart from the occasional glance, the sea otter seemed to have lost all interest in his charge. Tirael gave him a bemused look for a moment before he realized--this was a test. What would he do with this tiny sliver of lenience? If he tried anything, he'd be stopped for sure--and then Treble would make sure he didn't get another shot at it.
Well, that wasn't going to happen. Tirael would make sure of it.
So, in order to enforce Treble's (woefully misplaced) trust, the otter just picked up another set of materials and began to craft another arrow. "So," he piped up after a few minutes of silent labor. "Where do you expect me to stay tonight?"
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Post by Treble Tiderunner on Oct 16, 2013 1:48:57 GMT -6
The pile beside Treble grew in number once again as he laid down another finished javelin. He picked up another staff, but paused with it across his knees. The knife he was using was not a warrior’s blade, instead it was a one-edged tool, hardy for many sharpenings. Make no mistake, it was definitely dangerous, but one wouldn’t see it taken up into battle.
The soft raspings of the stone underlaid Treble’s words. “S’pose y’could stay in me tent. There’s room fer two now Fogg’s moved out. Or there’s t’communal tent, but tha’s a bit more crowded. All the Redwallers, y’ken. Tha’ big storm last sennight sure didn’t help matters.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. Who else had space?
Cramming him into the communal tent was possible, of course, but that tent wasn’t really all that large, and beasts were sleeping side-by-side, head-by-foot as it was. “Skipper’s got space, an’ there’s space in t’mess tent…” Treble put away the stone and adjusted the stave. “Wren has space in ‘er tent, an’ Norra in ‘ers… yah, that’s about it.” Treble wasn’t going to resort to tying the lad up. He’d made a bargain, and he expected Tirael to stick to his end of it.
Of course, that didn’t mean he was naïve. Far from it. Merely giving the little thief a chance. And if I can’t trust ‘im not t’run, well then, no big loss for me. he thought to himself.
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Post by Tirael on Oct 16, 2013 2:12:11 GMT -6
“S’pose y’could stay in me tent. There’s room fer two now Fogg’s moved out. Or there’s t’communal tent, but tha’s a bit more crowded. All the Redwallers, y’ken. Tha’ big storm last night sure didn’t help matters.”
Tirael wrinkled his face at the thought of spending the night in the communal tent. He had never been cooped up in a crowded area before, and had to admit he found the idea wholly unappealing. Besides, the more creatures there were around him, the more difficult it would be to sneak his way out of the tent. Besides, he had already decided that Treble was significantly more tolerable than anybeast else he'd encountered here. He might as well stick to him, especially if he couldn't find a real opportunity to escape.
So, the younger otter only half-listened as Treble thought out loud about other options. He supposed he should be surprised that the sea otter wasn't planning on just binding him to a convenient tree and calling it a night, but he wasn't really; after all, if Treble had been so worried about Tirael trying to run away, he probably would have had him more properly restrained from the start. This was, of course, no fur off Tirael's back. It would just end up teaching Treble a lesson about trusting prisoners.
Without looking up from his work, Tirael responded in as casual a tone as he could muster. "Well, if you don't mind, I'll stick with you, then. Not like anything else sounds any better." Really, though, his greatest concern was being put into the supply tent with Jake.
That kind of night wouldn't be comfortable for anyone involved.
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