[h3]Zaris, Grant[/h3] Zaris descends down into the cellar, the stairs and their cool stone sensation accompanied by the warbling tenor of an amateur song...rememberer...Thingy...Thingummy... "Oooooooooohhhhhhhhhh...! Tis Hotroot Aplenty, Tis Cordial to share, Tis beer to toast with, 'Neath this abbey so fair! Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhh...........! How the ale flows! How the wine sits! How the fizz fizzes! I could blow this abbey to bits! For, Oh! Oh! Oh! I'm aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Spiky 'Edge 'Og! The Spiky 'Edge 'Og! In charge of the grog!-" Zaris finds himself encroaching upon the bulwark that is Grant; his bulk and frame fair remembrance of Ellis' own hulking physique, but softer and gentler in the subtle ways that a life within the abbey walls would give him. Where Ellis' frame was of muscle, or of once-was-muscle, Grant's was of the soft roundness of a happy, peaceful, life- and Zaris was one of the few creatures with perspective enough to distinguish the difference. "A- I- Er- Zaris!" Grant chortles with laughter, rocking up from a chair as his spines flex and fall in a sudden anxious display. The mug in his hand seems forgotten, as the hedgehog stumbles a few steps. "Good to see you, friend-fellow- if Friar Ruddy wants more hotroot, 'e'll 'ave 'ore 'ot 'oot!" The final half of his dialogue was between gulps of whatever brew inhabited his mug- which he finally seemed to remember as he topped it off. Positively blushing with embarassment, he set it aside with an awkward shuffle towards the table he'd been sitting at, before he swayed back to attention with Zaris. "I mean. Ahem. Aye, there's more. Let me go and fetch it for you." Grant nodded soberly- at least, in a good passing attempt at soberly- and sauntered through the various stores of supplies kept down here as he grumbled their names and quantities to himself under his breath, having to stop every so often to reference a parchment and quill to verify something. After several moments he hiccups. "Oh, right, the Hotroot." He mutters, placing the inventory back aside, before opening up a few crates and sniffing at their contents. "Hm...There's enough for the feast, but we'll be on the lower side of comfortable after the fact. You're a strong lad, you can carry this up." And with that he hefts a box out of the crate, and sets it upon the table. He raps upon it twice with his knuckles, and taps his snout with a paw conspiratorially. "Proper day for a celebration, eh?" [hr] [h3][s]The Late [/s]Bancroft, Marigold[s] the Slaughterer[/s], Ellis[s] The Unfortunately Present[/s][/h3] Ellis's trundling gait and roaming memory were both halted at once, the whipsnare of life coiling him back to the present in the form of a mouse's warning cry; "Stop!" Banny frantically squeaked at the other woodlander. "Stay in the trees!" Ellis' eyes rose from distant memory, his heart discarded the weight of mortality that had temporarily gripped him, and in that moment as his spines flared to full alert he almost seemed young again- if not for the grey permeating through his fur. He whirled about, eyes cast skyward to follow Bancroft's paw- But his attention latched onto something else, indeed. As quickly as Bancroft had appeared, Ellis' arms embraced him and threw him aside into the cover of nearby bushes. "Warn the Abbey- aye, tis a good plan, but let this be a lesson, young Bancroft, to always keep yer ken in the now." His words came smooth and gentle as his paw plucked the arrow from the ground where Bancroft had been standing. His eyes studied the shaft and the fletching as he carefully maneuvered to share the protected space with Banny, his spines lowering safely but still tense. "Hold!" He called out into the trees. "Fair beasts we be! Shelter yourself from the skies, lest that raptor be less friendly than me!"