The swish of Sebastion's coat filled the corridors as the odd bat marched through the halls of Redwall, with another beast following in his wake. They walked down the hallway until they reached the great hall. The sun was covered by a layer of dark grey clouds, giving the scene an air of gloom.
In the center of the room, was a large blanket covering a mass about the size of a section of tree trunk, 5 feet long. Around it, a crowd of Redwallers had gathered. The father abbot, abbey champion, badger mum, Skipper, and Log-a-Log stood around the blanket, trying to get the Redwallers to go.
"Move along mateys. Nothing you can do 'ere. Go on back to ee doot'ies," Skipper said, spreading his arms.
"It's no use Skipper," The crowd turned and slowly parted to make an aisle for Sebastion and his follower to walk down, "you’d have better luck telling a river to turn around. 'Scuse me Gerald," He politely pushed past the abbot and knelt next to the blanket, “Now let's see what we have here,” Lifting the corner of the blanket, he sniffed, closing his eyes, “Hmmmmmmmm… Otter, male, about twenty seasons old. (Sniff sniff) Frequented the kitchens for (Sniff) hotroot, shrimp, and... white cheese,” He rose to his feet, still holding the blanket corner, "Obviously a kitchen worker from the overwhelming smells of food. Time of death,” With a dramatic tug, he drew the blanket off the body and a terrified murmur went through the crowd, “About ten A.M. Mossflower time.”
It was indeed a male otter of twenty seasons, wearing a kitchen apron, and had a bloody wound on his head. Next to his head, was a dagger with a bloody blade. There was a small smear of mud on the ground, a few, sparse stalks of field grass, and a black thread on the blade handle.
Sebastion looked over the scene then looked to the beast standing next to him, “Time to pull your weight; what do you make of this?”
(OOC: open to all)