Wooden Travels



  • Pask shot a curious glance down at the mouse, her brow furrowing in spite of her muzzle wrinkling in a half-smile. "I suppose that's true, Liam. My name is Paskflaur, the herbalist. I have never strayed beyond Mossflower, but my father was a fierce wild rover, and my siblings took after him. When he returned from his ramblings, he was always bringing gifts and stories of strangers he had met on the road." The vixen shrugged and shifted the weight of the basket on her shoulder. "As for me, I like the certainty of home, of this forest. Where a traveller may see many things and meet many creatures, he doesn't get neighbors to know and gardens to tend and friends to rely on. Maybe when I was a younger fox, I would have wandered, but these old paws like the worn trails these days."

    The path in question had left the road and wound its narrow way through the soft grasses and the trees. It canted upward, climbing a small hillock where a broad-branching oak tree reigned in shadow. "My home is not far," Pask said. "Just on the other side here. We had a great storm last spring that flooded the lowlands and felled a number of trees. Your path may have been washed out and grown over since you last came."

    Pask slipped under a mossy branch and waited on the other side for Liam. "If I may ask, what brings you to the Abbey now?"



  • Liam shrugged, making his way towards Pask and taking in her home. "Does there need to be a reason?" he asked rhetorically. "Although it is a fair question. I don't often return to the same place twice, even if it is Redwall. If I have to be honest," he continued, "I have the distinct feeling that I'm needed there. Lately, I've been dreaming about a warrior mouse, trying to reach me about something terribly important. A warrior mouse who happens to look like the fabled Martin, a founder of the Abbey."

    Liam sighed. "I don't put much stock in dreams. My master said that they're just funny little things our minds like to come up with. Somehow though, this feels like something else, a dream more than a dream. If that makes sense," he shrugged again.

    (Rodo, you can join now)



  • "Your master is not wrong," Pask replied as they crested the hill and came down on the other side. At the far side of the hollow, a thatched roof rose just above the mass of grasses, flowers and berried shrubs that crowded the glade.

    "But perhaps he does not have full understanding? In foxlore, we believe that dreams, especially those repetitive or vivid ones, may also be portends or messages from beyond the Black Forest. If I may offer my own advice, you would do well to not ignore these. Especially if that Martin mouse is in them. Too many misfortunes have befallen those who dream of that specter."

    The vixen swung open a stick gate, the only upright piece of an old and bowed fence that marked Pask's territory. Basil crowded along the fence, along with mint and rosemary. Within, clover and lilies crowded with wobbly rows of garlic, leeks, and vegetable greens. Herbs for food and medicine mingled freely, and bees bounced lazily from flower to flower. Violets tucked in the shadow of the larger plants, and here and there, a tangle of foxglove of primrose grew above the rest.

    She padded down the path toward her cottage. Roses crawled up the sunlit side of the low, little house. Rows of drying herbs hung from the roof, nearly obscuring the bone windchimes and the pair of old wicker chairs before her door.



  • "Perhaps. She always said that nobeast could ever hope to learn everything," he murmured in reply to Pask, eyeing her home with a look of wonder as he trod the path to her house. It wasn't like he was expecting her to live in some hovel, but this was something else. A home not just well cared for, but well loved. Each part felt to him like it told a different story of how it came to be; from the diverse garden, to the charming cottage. This wasn't something that could be built in a season or two, or even a few years. It was the result of a lifetime effort, and he found that he could not tear his eyes away from it.

    Something vague stirred his mind. Laughter, sunlight, happy feelings. Then, as quickly as it had come, it vanished, and he was left a familiar feeling of emptiness that wouldn't go away.

    "You have…an incredible place here," Liam managed to say. Then mouse shook his head, and coughed, cheeks red with embarrassment. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me. I'm not usually this starry-eyed, but I did mean what I said. For some reason, it strikes a chord in me."



  • Paskflaur cast a sly look over her shoulder at the young mouse. "It's home," she said with a smile. "Come now."

    She led the way to the threshold of the cottage, where herbs, flowers, and garlic braids hung from the overhanging rafters. A windchime made of some animal's bones clinked together in the thin breeze and a rattle in the distance proved that there was another out of sight. An weathered bat's skull and spread jaw bones hung over her door, a guardian grotesque. With a hum, the vixen bumped it open with her hip and entered.

    The front room of the little cottage was clearly a workspace. A broad table rested within, and jars of tinctures and dry ingredients lined shelves under the windows and over the hearth. Everything was neatly arranged and labeled, tools sorted, and a spinning wheel was tucked against the wall. Embers flickered under a thin layer of ash, and a cast iron pot hung out of the way on its hook. Still humming, Pask set her basket on the table and removed the fish, the egg, and began removing a thick nest of leaves and nettles.

    "Water is there," she said, gesturing to the far side of the door where a wooden buck crouched. A dipper gourd hung above it on the wall. "Get yourself a cup and take what you need. I'll have lunch ready in a minute."

    She busied herself with filleting the fish, glancing up occasionally to follow Liam.



  • Liam nodded. He removed his pack and spear, placing them beside the entrance, and went to fetch some water for himself. A thought occurred to him, and he removed a cup for Pask as well, filling both up and setting them upon the table. Sitting down, he took in contents of the cottage as the aroma of the filleted fish filled his nostrils.  He drummed his paws upon the table for a few moments. Then stopped, because he couldn't stand it anymore.

    "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, looking at the vixen. Sitting around while others did work made the mouse feel mighty uncomfortable. "I mean, any sort of work that needs to be done to prepare for lunch? I'm sure there's something that needs extra paws."



  • A beast walked down the path towards the cottage. Donned in these black robes that practically made it near impossible to identify. He approached towards the cottage after noticing the various herbs and plants. Hmm perhaps this is a place I can get some more medicinal herbs The beast thought as he approached. He didn't bother to take any precautions as he approached the door despite his rather intimidating attire. Especially with the notiable fact that…you cannot see his face. Instead there was a black bird like leather mask that covered his entire face and even glass lenses that covered his eyes. This mask seemed rather unusual but once you get a close look the mask is clearly just a blackened version it's white counterparts that "plague doctors" wear. Upon reaching the door he extended a leather gloved paw out to knock on the door.



  • "Yes," Pask replied, "Fetch the greens from the–" A sharp rap-tap sounded on the door. The vixen's ears pricked and she turned, knife in paw. "Could you get that? I'm not expecting anyone. May be Ferrus, if he decided to come early." She clicked her tongue and cast a glance between Liam and the door before slipping toward a shallow wash basin.

    As her paws touched the water, her nostrils flared as she caught the scent of the stranger, and the edge of shadow from the window. Paskflaur squinted, wiped her paws on her apron and turned to face the door.



  • "Sure thing." Liam got up and approached the door, pulling it open to reveal their visitor. A large, hooded figure stood in the doorway, wearing a tricorn hat and bearing a black mask that resembled a bird. He carried two bags in his left paw, and a cane topped by a pair of wings in his right paw.

    The mouse took in all this, and paused for a moment. There was something familiar about this creature, something that he was sure he could remember if given a little time.

    And then it came to him. "You're the Raven, aren't you?" Liam addressed the creature standing before him. "I've heard the tales that surround you, though I'm not sure what you're doing here." He turned towards Pask. "Shall I let him in?"



  • The beast look a bit surprised at the small mouse for recognizing him, let alone the fact that there are stories about him. Regardless the mask did not show any surprise and in fact it didn't display any emotion. Regardless he gave a elegant bow. "Well, it appears that I seem to have a reputation already from the short amount of time I have been in this err, Mossflower if I am correct." He said before standing back up. Just as his youthful and foreign accent did appear slightly as he spoke. "Please do forgive me if I am intruding Madame, I was wondering if this was a area for a quick restock in supplies. But if I am disturbing you I can leave" He said rather respectfully as he adjusted his hat



  • Pask hesitated at the sight of the cloaked and masked figure at her door. 'What, in heaven's name, is this?' Certainly not Ferrus.

    The vixen cast a brief glance and reassuring smile in Liam's direction. His question, asking if he should let the creature in, caught her notice and wonder. The protective nature of those words and his readied stance were things she had witnessed before in others but never from a mouse toward vermin like her. Yet in a flash her momentary surprise was gone and Pask directed her full attention to the creature in her doorway.

    She sniffed the air again – a cat, maybe, stood behind that disguise. She didn't know any cats out here, and none known to dress like that. Despite her suspicions, Pask allowed herself to relax with the stranger's request. She had a reputation of helping any beast for a cost, and nasty masks wouldn't change that yet.

    "No, please. Let him in, Liam." She stepped forward, subtly taking her knife from the table to tuck into the folds of her dress. "What are you in need of, Sir...?" She held her place before this 'Raven', not allowing entry until her own questions were answered.



  • (do i respond orrr….)



  • ((sorry i expected a different style of turn order. i thought it was Waaaaah's turn))

    The masked individual gave a nod before the Vixen cuts him off as he started to take a step into the building. Giving a slight sigh he spoke. "Well Madame, I am simply in need to restock medical supplies and I do have a list." He said as he pulled out a small leather-bound notebook and handed it to her with it opened to the page containing the list. "You see I am a doctor, well a more….. "unique" kind of doctor. Those like myself are more properly trained in dealing with illnesses that are...well far easier to spread and cause chaos. For example these masks and thick robes help prevent the doctor from falling ill themselves. " He said as he gestured his to his attire. "Although Madame, may I please enter now? Forgive me if I sound rude but you did seem to block the entrance after allowing me to come in. Are you sure there is no issue? If there is, could you at least provide me directions to the Abbey known as Redwall? I have business there."



  • Pask took the book and skimmed the scrawl. She was no creature of letters but thanks to a trade in her youth, she as able to pick out the names of the plants and tinctures listed. Two she did not know; a set of four caused her pause.

    "Forgive an old fox for not being especially trusting." She looked up and offered the beast a wan smile. Pask openly surveyed him again, letting her gaze linger on the ugly mask and robes.

    "I don't do business with folk I can't see and whose names I don't know. My name is Paskflaur, though as you have find my home, I suspect you may already know that. Take that mask off; you're in no danger of sickness here."

    She stepped back into the house, allowing him entry. "I can provide you with most of what you need, but some of these are rare and especially expensive. What can you give in trade?"



  • The beast gave a nod as he stepped inside and once again gave a bow. "Considering it is only polite since you introduced yourself I shall do the same. My name is Armello  Casco Darkpaw, plague doctor of the Église de guérison,the Healing Church from the city of Athel." He said before adjusting hs mask. "Now Madame like yourself I to cannot be very trusting hence why i do prefer to keep the mask on. Especially considering the…..social interactions between some of the species of people seem...rather negative because they are different." So I prefer to just be known as a masked doctor for now." He said before glancing over at the mouse. "So you said you have heard of me? I didn't expect a simple plague doctor who wears a black mask instead of a white one would become so interesting." He said rather curious. "What have they said about me if you do not mind me asking."



  • "It depends who you ask," Liam replied as he closed the door and faced the hooded figure. "I met an aging squirrel a season or two ago who spoke of the black-masked plague doctor, who worked tirelessly to help those suffering of the Ague. He kept admiring and praising you until he ran out of breath."

    Looking Armello straight in the eye-hole of his mask (and maybe shuddering a bit at the sight), he continued: "However, more than one goodbeast in the various inns I've visited have cursed you for taking the lives of their loved ones, or being the bearer of plague itself. Some vermin tell unsettling tales of the way you deal with threats to your life, how your dispassionate manner scares them as much as your appearance does."

    Liam folded his arms. "As for my own opinion, that will wait until I've gotten a measure of the creature Armello, not the legend of the Raven."



  • Armello gave a sigh as he listened. "Of course I'd be cursed for being responsible for their deaths. They do not understand that I am just a doctor. Not a miracle worker, some illnesses all I can do is allow then to die peacefully." He shook his head. " Regardless I respect your judgement." He said as he remained standing by the door a but behind the monotone demeanor and mask he unsure of where this go next.



  • Paskflaur listened to Armello's conversation with mounting dislike. In addition to his accent, there was something in his tone, a certain pretention, perhaps, that grated against her. Plague doctors, honestly. That was a problem for foreign lands, where beasts believed in superstition over fact and put their faith in so-called doctors in costume.

    "Respectfully, Armello, you are in no danger in my home. I think you will find that beasts here are more frightened of your current visage than of whatever lies beneath. No one likes to be tended to by a grim crow and unless you brought your plague with you, you will find no use for it in these lands." She offered a placating smile before moving to the wall of dried herbs and bottled potions. "Your mask, please, and your method of payment. Normally, I accept trades in labor and goods, but seeing as you are a traveller, I will take coin. The raw herbs will cost two gold coins; the tinctures and salves ten."

    The vixen set the book on her countertop and waited.

    ((Not sure what the value of a gold coin in the series has been given; Pask's prices are high but not unreasonable.))



  • Armello suddenly froze up as it dawned on him that this vixen is hellbent on having him remove his mask. Looking back at Pask and the mouse it was clear that his calm demeanor seems a bit more unnerved. He silently placed the 12 gold coins on the table and began to take off his hat. After that  he slowly began to undo the neatly tucked in hood and slowly removed the mask revealing the bobcat underneath.

    There was two rather striking thing about Armello. First off was his vibrant blue eyes that seemed to almost shimmer when the sun strikes his youthful face. Yet those eyes did show a sense of maturity. The other thing is far less appealing to look at unfortunately. From the lower part of his left cheek and jaw stretching down until vanishing behind his robes was a massive scar that had a very thin and almost nonexistent fur on it. The scar did also appear that initially this was once a very gruesome and agonizing burn but now all tat is left is this faded scar on his face. Armello did not look up.

    He seemed almost humiliated as his kept his gaze on the ground, silently swearing at this pushy vixen in his head. Why was she so fixated on having him remove the mask? He thought to himself. If only instead she just sent him on his way he wouldn't be standing here forced to show the face he tired so hard to hide.



  • Liam watched the exchange with mixed feelings. It was more than a bit uncomfortable watching Armello be forced to remove the mask that he obviously wanted to leave on. Still, it wasn't as if Pask had no excuse for requesting such a thing as payment for her services. He had seen plenty of odd and strange requests in exchange for goods and services, like that time where-

    Without warning, the window near the door shattered; a stone tumbled through the tinkling glass and rolled onto the floor. The sound of hooting and jeering was clearly audible, and a voice rose from amidst it: "You old crone! Yer gonna get what's comin' t'you!"

    Quick as a flash, Liam grabbed his spear and risked a glance out the window. Three weasels and a stoat (young ones from the looks of it) were laughing among themselves, hefting stones and ripping up the garden.

    "It seems we have…unwanted guests," he announced to Pask and Armello. "What should we do about them?"

    (I'm assuming that Pask's windows have glass. I can amend the post if necessary to make the rock hit something fragile instead)


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