Perception 16

Hurdrak sees Dixie dart off to the side, away from the rest of the group and towards the barracks.  He gives an exacerbated sigh and says just loud enough for the others to hear, "Dixie heading towards barracks.  I'm following."  He then peels off the side heading there as well.

Mistral calls down to the spider, “You go with the patrol - Let me follow Dixie, I’ll attract less attention.”

Caught red-handed in the middle of a retreat! Dixie unsheaths one of the spare daggers ready to strike at Olivie if she crosses her limits. Indeed, she is feeling more confident in her armor and gears. "Captain! That's neither true nor false, but I swear that has nothing to do with murder." Moving closer to the place where the opponents wait, maddened by the cynicism of the doe, cries out "We do not need any further confrontation after what just happened there. Why are you here?"

"Neither true, nor false?  I expect such duplicitous words from this serpent before me, but you?  In the Mouse Guard we speak plainly. I would have you remember that." The crestfallen Captain looks his years, suddenly, but his voice still rings with authority. "We as Guard offer all that we are to protect the sanctity of all woodland creatures, the freedom of our kin, and the honor of our ancestors. With knowledge, sword, and shield, we do these deeds, never putting a lone mouse above the needs of all, or the desire of self above another. We strive for no less than to serve the greatest good."

"Tenderpaw Fierypaws. I order  you out on patrol, all of you. Now more than ever, you are needed. But not here in this town, not now. Venture forth, and do the greatest good. Dismissed." He expects it will be his final order. This is what they wanted.

"Vidame Olivie. Those you seek are members of the Guard, and billeted in this town, by my leave. As their commanding officer, and the one who recruited them, I accept responsibility for any and all charges you make against them."

The Vidame smiles, again displaying her perfect white incisors. "So be it."  

In a quick motion, she reaches back for her concealed stiletto. As she draws it and brings it around, it lengthens into a rapier and forms a basket hilt protecting her paw. With another practiced movement, she swings a small buckler out from beneath her fur cloak.

Captain Trevel draws his trusty sword for what he suspects may be the last time, but he is not afraid. His time is over. He has work yet unfinished, but the Guard will carry on with its mission. The six Goldcloaks form a circle around the duo in the courtyard, as the two close and raise their weapons into guard positions.

Blackbur’s fur is bristling. “Aye Captain. Good luck.” He salutes, and runs for the gate.

"Cap...", Dixie is unable to finish the word since both of the blades belonging to the authoritative figures attempt to clash with each other, shining with the glory of metallic sharpness. A ranger..a mouseguard..a fugitive..a doe...and the latest one is one of her identities which constantly clashes with other identities regarding the decision making process where clash of duty and morality prevails.

With blurred vision, Dixie refrains herself from protecting the captain out of her duty, a ranger never lets emotion guide herself! Dismissing the tears that threaten to burst out of her eyes, she retreats in search of her teammates, to let them know of this deadly duel, if they're not already informed.

With the scene playing out before him, Whiskers realizes 'It wasn't us, she was after, but the Captain. Without him, what is the Guard?'  (ooc note this is his thoughts, not something he is expressing out loud).

As he follows the rest of his troop out of the barracks area, his thoughts continue down that same path 'We will return and avenge you Captain. We will figure out what her game is and save the town and the Guard.'

Mistral returns to the patrol, disturbed by the scene that he has witnessed. Yes, the mice are a different species, but he has a kinship to them and it leaves him distraught that they should be fighting each other at a time when they should be bonding together to fight a common enemy.

The Mouse Guard patrol is free to carry out its Captain's final order unmolested, reaching the gate, then making the climb up through the snow pack to the surface. The forest floor is everchanging in depth, as a flood of snow which ever flows, but never ebbs. And yet it is a never-changing white blanket, the everlasting rime of Auril the frostmaiden. The twilight of dawn has settled upon the quiet wood, lending them a few hours reprieve from the bitterest cold the winter night has to offer. Dixie's sled, stowed nearby in a sheltered alcove, has enough supplies for them to reach another town, should they choose to travel.

Captain Trevil did not have the chance to brief them on their next mission, so it is up to them what they will do now. His Eminence and his Vidame have made sure they will be viewed as a rogue element, in the eyes of Lonelywood. But their standing within the greater Mouse Guard is less certain. Hurdrak and Dixie are fugitives, and the rabbit has most assuredly made herself an enemy. And a hungry owl will be expecting tribute from them in seven days time. What will our intrepid patrol do next?

Blackbur wraps his cloak around himself. 

“We lost that battle before we ever knew it had begun... we need to be prepared for the next one, or Vildame will outmaneuver us again. We need to make our way to the next town. And we need tribute for the owl. If we let that slide, who knows who will suffer for it. Heidi, if I were to take a bet.”

Dixie goes through the supplies stored inside the sled, particularly searching for something that might help her navigating through the frozen terrain....presumably scrolls of maps or even a compass! "We had better take shelter in the midst of civilization in order to prepare ourselves, not all of you can sustain the displeasure of the mother nature", she offers with a grim expression, passively hinting at the uncivilized life she had to live as a lone ranger in the woods. 

Hurdrak paced back and forth.  Upset and agitated by this all.  Essentially, the one person who had full faith in him had been cut down for political schemes.  He wanted to rush back in, challenge her to a duel and kill her. 

He shook his head, no, Captain wanted him to work with the others.  He moved back into the group.  "I hate leaving things as they are but you've all made good points.  We can't stay, we can't have our vengeance yet and their are things to split our attention... I agree, we head to the next town, cultivate allies if we can and if we have to offer a tribute then I'd prefer something or someone that is more deserving, a predator, a killer or such "

"We'll see if we can make it to the next town. Don't think to the future when the cold's biting you in the present. Tribute shouldn't be hard to find. There's plenty of death here," Anspec says to the group. 

‘We need to unpick these schemes, so we know where, and how, to act. I won’t be caught out so ignorant again…’ says Sirithal. ‘We can’t afford hot heads and indiscipline, we must be like ice, colder than those we face, before we can pick apart their plans…’

Morale is low, but it is too cold and dangerous to stay put. Tourmaline is the nearest town, some miles south, and it will require a quick pace to reach before their twilight wanes.

Without the direct influence of His Eminence, the town there is more cosmopolitan. There are Mice, of course, but also a community of Voles, a husk of Hares, even a lodge of Otters- though they are strict piscivores, even in these dark times, fishing beneath the ice. 

"Comrades! You need to check this out", Dixie cries out while holding up a scroll that looks like a map with markings.

Checking his star map, Mistral sets off determinedly. "This way to Tourmaline", he declares. "We should make haste."

Blackbur talks to the group as we march. 

“Anything in these parts that might either: help fight the owl or that could be tribute to it?”

Sirithal moves with relative ease through the snow, the cold causing no discomfort. Once set on a path, a billow of steam pours from his robes, moving behind the group.

'With somewhat fortunate timing I was able to summon assistance last night. It will help ensure we are not followed...'

Blackbur knows there has been a gang of Stoats harassing the pathways between towns, all around the frozen lake Maer Dualdon, for several months now. The patrol has been briefed, and ordered to engage, if encountered; but little is known, because there have been no survivors- just bones and tracks.

With no new intelligence, it is a broad area to cover, for a hunt. The patrol is unlikely to run into the predatory gang, though if the stoats are nearby, the patrol could be targeted! It would be a difficult contest, indeed, to turn predator into prey, should the groups meet...