Nemaisare — Roleplayer Guild

Seeing Ellis had been a momentary jolt of surprise for him, both because it reminded him of his curiosity as to the possible continued existence of that wildberry and pear cordial and he’d not been expecting to see the old Cellarhog until feast time. He was rather serious about his craft, after all, and ensuring the drinks always satisfied. The friendly hedgehog seemed preoccupied, however, probably by the errand that had coaxed him from the cellars, so Rigby only gave him a grin before continuing towards their objective. He was less surprised by Zaris’ apparent preoccupation with his own thoughts, and their current company, and Rigby could hazard the guess that it was for a similar reason that the Abbott and Brother Jethro had been so cautious. So he didn’t try to include the otter in the conversation, such as it wasn’t really, anyway, and took the shortest route to the kitchens after ascertaining that Friar Ruddy was not in the Great Hall, and that most everyone else apparently was. 

Too crowded by half. It would be much better to sneak through Cavern Hole. Glancing over his shoulder to be sure the other four were still with him, Rigby rather enjoyed the expressions on the three newcomers’ faces. It was a sight he’d seen many times before. It always made him prouder than it likely should have, given as he’d had absolutely no paw in building the impressive structure, but it was his home, and he certainly thought it was well worth a bit of awe. He happily explained the origins to them, and coaxed their names out along the way, though it didn’t take long for them to find Friar Ruddy. 

He was exactly where Rigby’d thought he’d be, and all in a tizzy, too. The welcome they received was enthusiastic, to say the least, and it caught him somewhat flat-footed… He hadn’t… Or well, he had brought a few able-bodied volunteers, but he hadn’t been meaning to include himself among their number! Clearly taken by surprise, the young mouse blinked at the otter’s instructions before glancing around the wide area and back to the three strangers, all unsuspecting… Well, he had been taking it pretty easy all morning, and it wasn’t as though Brother Jethro or Zaris actually needed him at the gate. Friar Ruddy, however, looked like he’d lost several of his usual helpers to other chores. Besides which, he’d really only been waiting at the gate in the hopes of catching Bancroft’s arrival, but Bancroft would be bound for the kitchens with fresh stores anyhow, so staying here served much the same purpose. 

And it would be more useful.

Decision made—more like foregone conclusion given into—Rigby led everyone to the broad sink, washing his own paws while he was at it. He was happy to help out, despite the initial baulking, but he still couldn’t help a wistful glance over his shoulder as Zaris wandered off, scoffing the treat he’d been handed with obvious relish and utterly ignoring the imploring stare at his back. Half of him wanted the otter’s company around a little longer, dour though it could be, now he was suddenly surrounded by the three taller, sturdier, potentially far more dangerous creatures he’d led here. The other half wanted to join in on the errand to see how Grant was doing, but he was mostly disappointed that he hadn’t gotten a candied chestnut, too. 

Abandoning that train of thought quickly in favour of shaking the wet off his paws before drying them and considering the chance to sneak a bite of something else for himself, Rigby handed the towel to the stoat next to him and surveyed the room. 

“Right, Rawback, Scraggs, there’s your table where Ruddy’s just passed now. Looks like he’s got a mountain of carrots, turnips, and parsnips for you. Best of luck whittling that lot down before he adds the beets I can smell baking.” Pointing the table out, Rigby sent them on their way. They had their work cut out for them and he was sure they’d have sore paws by the end of it. “Try not to cut yourselves, or you’ll be physicked half to death on Nameday of all days. Sad fate, that’d be. Trust me though, the works’ worth it for the feast come’s out of it.”

Giving their sullen faces an encouraging grin, he waved the vixen after him to the table with a large bowl of shrimp on it, and several empty ones waiting to be filled. “As for me and you, Rubella, I guess we’ve been volunteered to avoid disappointing the otters. Don’t worry, this’s easy work.” Well, as easy as standing on your feet and dealing with finicky, somewhat delicate shrimp could get. He preferred it over chopping turnips, at any rate. 

Once they were standing next to each other, the vixen watching him with a very direct, yellow stare, Rigby had to swallow the nerves trying to get to him. She was very big and rather toothy… But it wasn’t as though he hadn’t gotten used to being among the smallest in any group already. He just couldn’t help remembering several stories in which a fox's most fearsome traits had been happily embellished... They weren’t all that reassuring to have in his mind, just now, but they’d come asking for a meal and were willing, even if somewhat begrudging, to work for it, so there wasn’t any reason to be nervous, was there? 

He hoped not. 

After showing her the deft twist of paw that removed a shrimp’s head, and how easy it was to slide a claw between shell and flesh to peel it free along with the legs, Rigby pointed out the bowl for the shell and took up the paring knife himself to do some deveining, leaning his hip against the table for support as he did. Nobody was likely to notice the difference, but he figured he might as well, since there were two pairs of paws doing the work. It was a steady sort of process, easy to see the results piling up.

While he’d learned a good number of skills with a varying, and occasional utter lack, of actual skill, the kitchen was, luckily, one of his better areas, and he settled into the task readily once he’d made sure Rubella was confident on her end and that both Rawback and Scraggs were managing. Eventually, unconsciously filling in the quiet, he found himself humming the song the Dibbuns had been singing earlier. It was a tradition that always won smiles from every beast, audience and participants alike, and he had a few fond memories of the one Nameday he could remember when he’d been a Dibbun joining in the parade. He was looking forward to the evening, wasn’t he just.

Karmelita was the vixen from Ellis’ backstory, so as long as this one isn’t ALSO Karmelita nobody has to get hurt and Name Day can be enjoyed by all.@Fading Memory

Someone's going to get hurt anyway, this is how the wonderful world of Redwall works (vermin in the Abbey during a merry celebration...), and Bancroft already died. >.> <.< Though seriously, if he did, that wouldn't be the shortest-lived character I've ever seen, cuz, y'know, some don't ever get written (and expendable NPCs), but it would certainly be close.

<Snipped quote by Fading Memory>

Ahh, I completely blanked on that.@Lord Wraith

It took me a moment, too. I recognized the name and knew I was supposed to know it, but I could not remember why until I was about to google it.

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