Black Horizons TP

Lutea · 2019-02-16 12:25:01 PM

Our Time

The waves chew gnashing teeth into the high, red cliffs of Slag Island, frothy claws scrabbling against the salt-stained rocks. The island itself is large and treacherous, surrounded by a ring of ruined ships, those that were not cautious or experienced enough to make their way into the small, protected harbor that makes up the docks of Slag; but through the bones of those wrecks, one ship picks its way through. Its sails are drawn down but their flag still raised: a trio of scimitars radiating out from the center of the yellow canvas, their blades etched in green thread and their handles in black. From a post atop the cliff face, a rat's frown deepens, and she turns to her partner, swallowing nervously.

"Send word t'Lord Tensil." She commands, and the ferret with her nods soundlessly - their master has long awaited the return of their scouts, and whatever news the Ruddy Bilge brings could spell the fates of all those on Slag. He hastens his paws to bring the news to their leader's staff.

---

"'Bout bloody time, Mud!" A pot-bellied weasel laughs uproariously as he steps forward to embrace the captain of the Ruddy Bilge. Though he appears pleased to greet his old friend after so much time spent apart, his fear is evident - Redmud Hooktail's expression remains vague, however, not offering him any immediate relief from his anxiety. The weasel twists his hat in his paws, his unease deepened by the shorter rat's silence. "We was startin' ta think ye'd abandoned us!"

"Well, I needed t'be sure tha' my report be accurate. An', a'course, we needed t'bring ye all back some souvenir of our time away!" Redmud sneers, her red-dyed whiskers lifting with the expression. "Ye'll 'ear about it soon enough." She sniffs before turning to raise a paw to her crew, still hovering aboard the Bilge. "Alrigh', ya filth! Get 'er unloaded, th'quicker you lot finish yer work, th'sooner ye get t'hit th'taverns!" A cheer goes up from the deck, and the haggard crew of the Ruddy Bilge set to unloading the ship, just about the time a winded ferret rushes to the docks, panting.

"L-Lord Tensil e-eagerly awaits yer news, C-cap'n." He wheezes, bent double by his mad dash from the fortress. The terrain is tricky, treacherous, and steep.

"Well, I'd 'ate t'keep m'Lord waiting much longer, eh? Rutlag!" The latter is shouted over her shoulder as she begins to make her way up the path that leads from the docks. "'Ave th'chest brought up th'hill, top priority!"

"Aye aye, captain!" The dockmaster, Louts, continues to twist his hat in his paws, reluctant to allow Scout Captain Redmud's flippant mood ease his own fears just yet. She's been one to put on a brave face in the past, and all of her missions prior have brought only more waiting, more lean years for Slag Island... But maybe this time...

---

The gates to Bloodslag Fortress groan open to admit the page-ferret and his charge. Captain Redmud breathes in deep as she turns to survey the views awarded by the fortresses' superior height; the island itself is the apex of an uncommonly tall undersea mountain, its peak climbing thousands of feet into the air. From the fortress, hewn into the rock at that apex, Redmud can see the whole of the village below, the harbor, and miles and miles of endless sea...

It's good to be home - but she can't celebrate just yet...

"Our Lord will see you now!" A nervous rat greets them at the gate, hurrying forward to usher them inside. "Lord Tensil is not happy wi' th'time it took you t'reach Bloodslag, please be quick abou' it. You /do/ remember where th'quarters is, aye?" Redmud doesn't hesitate to round on the smaller rat, her silver incisors bared.

"Ye dare talk down t'me, filth? I'll paint th'stones redder with yer guts, I will. An' what will Lord Tensil think of yer insolence to 'er Scout Captain, eh?"

"P-Please! Cap'n, I-I didn't mean nothin' by it!" He cowers away from her, backing away with such haste that he dashes himself against the red-stone wall behind him. "N-Nothin' meant, p-promise! Our L-Lord is j-just eager t'see ya agin!" Redmud awards him nothing more than a sneering 'hmph!' before turning to climb the high staircase to Lord Tensil's lavish office and quarters. She was not left winded by the climb to the Fortress, despite the exertion required to make it herre, but now - standing in front of Tensil's door - she finds herself struggling to take in breath.

She is terrified of her Lord, as anybeast with half a brain would be, in a way that leaves her blood cold.

She raises a paw to the gold knocked in the heavy wood of the door and, shaking, raps it against its base. The door opens soundlessly, and once Redmud Hooktail has slipped inside, it slams shut behind her.

---

The only light inside Lord Tensil's quarters comes from a single candle burning on a mahogany desk, and Redmud finds herself blinking in the darkness, her eyes struggling to adjust to the dramatic change in lighting.

"You took your time returning to me, my sweet...." The voice is little more than a whisper, a purr, but it hits her with a weight that drops the rat's guts to her ankles.

"M-M'lord, M'sorry f-fer th'delay, but we 'ad t'be... T'be /sure/."

"Sure?" The voice replies, drawing the word out over the sound of a chair screeching across the wooden floors.

"Aye; s-sure." Redmud winces, drawing in a breath to steady herself. She swallows, her throat dry and raspy, and it takes a long moment to remind herself that /this/ time is different - the punishment will not come this time, and that thought brings some warmth back to her. She finds her courage stashed somewhere deep, hidden in her chest. "'Ad t'be sure this time, m'lord, for ye see..." She pauses long enough to hear the sharp intake of breath from the shadows behind the desk.

"Our time's come, m'lord." Redmud finishes, her silver buck-teeth flashing in the candle's light. "There cin be no denyin' it - th'Patrol is weakened. Sickly. Their numbers dashed in fool's battles, valiant an' foolish as ever. Weak and defenseless." Her grin falters as the shadows shift, and the candle's light reveals the haunted eyes of her lord - cat's eyes, one a deep, rich gold, but the other a bloodied red.

"You've done well, Captain... Or should I call you: Lieutenant." Tensil's needle-sharp claws rake across the surface of the ornate desk. "Never again call me 'lord', Hooktail... I am to be your /Queen/." The wildcat stands suddenly, nearly overturning the candle; the flash of movement sends the now Lieutenant Redmud Hooktail's heart to her mouth, but there are no claws protruding from the paw that cups her cheek. The touch is soft, almost loving, and Redmud's air leaves her in a relieved sigh.

"Gather my captains... There is no time to waste: you will set sail again three days from now. You know your orders, Lieutenant."

Redmud knew better than to complain - her crew would understand, and three days of shore leave would pale in comparison to the rewards they have to look forward to. With a silent nod, the rat scampers from her queen's quarters and into the light of the island outside.

Queen Tensil watched as the ship departed, three days later - first the Bilge, then the others, leaving her island to herald in the new age. Soon, all seas would be hers, and with control of the seas, the land would come after. She had waited so long, and soon the horizons would be black with her armada and none would stand in her way...

---

The sun beats down over a ship crafted from blonde wood, red sails full and flushed with a helpful wind; and aboard the Sun Sail, an otter squints from his vantage point in the crow's nest. "Go' incoming, we do!" In a flash, Lutea has scaled the rigging to join him. "Tha' we do, mate." She takes the spyglass from his paws and her frown deepens. "Looks like pirate's colors, those do... But I ain't seen pirates flyin' two flags afore." Through the spyglass she can see the pair of colors that the approaching vessel flies: the first is a trio of green scimitars radiating outward from a field of yellow, but the second flag, the one that flies above it, gives her pause....

A pair of eyes on a field of black: one golden and the other a deep, sinister red.

Lutea · 2019-03-04 09:18:06 AM

The Rusty Treasure
Ft. Jarvis, Invar, Aqua, Rionach, and Lutea as GM
Setting: The Sun Sail, Open Water

A pair of ships drifted on the horizon, both flying a sinister flag above their own colors. The first ship flew three green scimitars on a yellow field, while the second - the one that passed it - flew a cracked coin over a blue field. On the Ruddy Bilge, Lieutenant Redmud Hooktail laughed as her captain aboard the Rusty Treasure churned the sea in its wake, streaking towards an unassuming ship on the horizon. "We've bigger fish t'flay." Redmud said, grinning to the ferret beside her. "We sail Westward."

Silence at sea is different than it is on land. It is never complete. Never total. There is always some small sound to fill it: the lap of a wave, the whisper of wind, creaking of a sail, or the chatter of some distant gull. But even at sea, there is a heaviness to the quiet before a battle; even the waves, even the wind, and even the gulls seem muted. But, gradually, it breaks. A call, snatched by the wind; another, dragged closer by it.

The distant shouts and drumming of an enemy ship advancing.

Aboard the Rusty Treasure, spirits are high. Captain Myra Longfang, a nasty searat, throws her head back with a sinister laugh. She wears a skirt of eel leather and is riddled with weaponry. "Mateys!" She shouts, taking her place atop a barrel on the high deck. "Ye see tha'?" She juts a claw towards the ship on the horizon, naught but a speck growing larger. "Thar's yer dinner. Thar's yer spoils. Thar's th'blood ye'll be spillin' tahday!" She stomps her boot rhythmically against the barrel, a slow beat that slowly builds until the crew has joined, and soon the entire ship echoes with the chorus of bloodthirsty voices, boots banging against the wood of the ship in their greed and glee.

The silence aboard the Sun Sail lingers longer than it does on the horizon. "You have faced demons." Lutea's voice cracks through the air like a whip, snapping a pair of panicking beasts to a standstill. She has left the crow's nest and now hangs above the ship's deck, one paw through the rigging and the other, the one clutching her staff, hanging free at her side. "An' not jus' those whats in th'stories. Ye aren't wee dibbuns, leapin' at shadow - no. Ye've faced 'em! Demons what was made'a flesh, and teeth, and claws, and /ice/. They clasped ye in chains -" Narrowing her eyes, the fierce, tattooed otter bares her teeth. "/AN' YE TORE THEM OFF!" With one strong, hard motion, she thrusts her staff into the air. "Corsairs are nothing to those that've slayed demons. Cut every rope they loose! Keep 'em from boardin', but if they do - make sure they know who sent 'em to th'Dark Forest!"

The otter drops to the deck and grabs ahold of the carpenterbeast, Rionach. "Ye - do what ye cin do t'that ship afore it gets too close. We're otters - this is /our/ turf. Where's our badger, eh?" Rionach nods and cups her paws around her muzzle, scurrying off. "Strong swimmers - if ye dinnae want to fight, come with me!"

Jarvis nods, he is gonna stay on deck and fight if needed, fighting was teh only reason he surrived what he did, the only reason he got out of that northalnds...hell, like he did. He takes a deep breath and snorts, he is ready to defend this boat and his friends.

Invar has his serious face on. The flat scowl of determination to fight another day "I'm right here" he shouts back as he's awkwardly getting through a trapdoor on to the deck he had briefly disappeared in to the ship but it was only to squeeze through the doors to his stuff and come back with his big sledgehammer/axe weapon "Y'don't think I'm missin' this do ye?"

Aqua frowns as she is unsure of weather to stay on deck or not, a couple otters who are not very good fighters or just too much shock of seeing villians aain decide to quickly go below deck to, well hide.

Several otters join Rionach at the railing, armed with ropes, hooks, and grim expressions. The carpenter gives a nod and dives overboard, her crew in her wake. The ship in the distance continues to grow closer with worrying speed, its sails fat with a helpful wind. Of course, that wind also continues to urge the Sun Sail further away, but the approaching vessel is made for speed and movement. It was built for the chase. As Invar makes his way onto the deck, Lutea throws her head back in a laugh, one paw patting her whale-tooth dagger. "Pirates'a fair bit more killable 'an a storm, m'friend! Their like t'wet their salty selves when 'ey see we've a badger with us." She taps her nose; as with the storm, the Taggerung wears a wide, disconcerting grin. This has always been her life - there's a joy in chaotic familiarity.

Archers are lining the railings, nervously stringing bows and double checking their quivers. Underwater, Rionach and several others are streaking towards the offending vessel, and on deck everybeast prepares for battle. Those weary few that hide below deck are not given grief for it, though there are several snarls muttered between the otters that remain.

Jarvis keeps an eye on the ship, if it's seen well enough and just checks on a couple daggers he has with him and looks up making sure he is ready, he isn't joining the group that will be under water, he is staying on the ship.

Invar huffs a brief note of relief when he's back on to the open space of the deck and smooths down his tunic as he stands "I'll take pirates over lightning any day!" he says as he hauls the great big hammer axe on to his shoulder and takes his place by the railing "Stand tall, look big an' scary, I know the drill. Bit a luck they might decide we're not worth the fight" first impressions matter and he make no attempt to hide from the pirates, hoping a badger might at least give a few second thoughts.

Aqua quickly gets any healing supplies she may need, she isnt a fighter, she was keep alive during slavery for the simple fact, she was a healer.She learned a litle on how to use a sling and she gets that out with her pouch of smooth rocks as well.

The pirates are about to discover that a ship full of otters is more at home on the sea than they could ever hope to be - even raised from salt and brine, as the crew of the Rusty Treausre has been. Captain Longfang stands ready at the prow, her cutlass over her head. "Archers!" She hollers, her eyes narrowing at the show of force on the deck of the other ship. "Curse thar bones t'barnacles." She swears, but still gives the order for the archers to let loose. There will be no such luck of a peaceful resolution this time.

At the same time as Longfang, Lutea gives the archers command - arrows from both ships cascade over one another, burying themselves into wood, snipping through sails, and streaking into the ocean in explosions of tiny bubbles. "Don' give 'em room t'breathe!" The otter yells, ducking as arrows pepper their own deck.

As the ship nears even closer, eight grappling hooks come soaring from the Treasure and hook onto the railing of the Sun Sail. Already, Aqua has something to do as a male otter cries out, his paw clasping an arrow protruding from his shoulder.

Jarvis narrows his eyes, he goes to get one of those grabbling hooks off the railing as one of those 8 didn't hook on as well and so he makes it at least one less hook to horry about, but of course there is 7 others to worry on, "We need ta cut these and get them off!!" He says as he goes to slice threw a 2nd rope that has a grabbling hook on it.

"No such luck!" Invar growls as the arrows start flying and he turns his back to it, ducking his head down to protect it. Unfortunately he's quite a large target with little cover but only growls slightly for the arrow in his back. He has thick skin and chain mail, he'll be fine. He drops his weapon as the grappling hooks start latching on and grabs the nearest one. He slices straight through the rope with a claw and then forcefully yanks on the rope, hoping to take whoever's holding the other end overboard already.

Aqua quickly tends to her fellow ottter's paw "Ok..hold still let's see wot we can do about that arrow"Ok this will be tricky since it's in a paw and they likely want to still be able to use thier paw. She frowns "This is..gonna hurt, a lot but it needs out"She just has to do it carefully and have a folded cloth ready to press on the wound to stop any bleeding, she pays carefull attention to her work and hopes others pay attention to whats going on around them.Luckly an otter does stay beside her in case pirates get on board.

As Jarvis slices the first rope, there is a scream as a ferret goes falling into the ocean, having only made it halfway across the span of the two ships. Another shout as a rat plummets into the waves from Invar's doing - otters rush to the railings, slicing at the ropes, but more hooks come. They have to duck arrows, and it doesn't take long for the pirates to start breaking through. A pair of sea rats rush Jarvis, armed with cutlasses as a ferret rushes Invar. Lutea's staff thwacks a stoat right over the railing.

The otter with the arrow in his shoulder yelps as Aqua tends to him, gritting his teeth. "Gentle, lass!" He chides, moaning in pain as she removes the arrows and sets to stopping the bleeding. There is another wounded otter near the railings, where a boarding pirate slashed him in the back with her short sword.
Jarvis sidesteps and goes to throw one dagger at an on coming rat, the other rat he goes to try and trip them.He is fairly good at avoiding being sliced at when he is in fighting mode. He keeps his balance, almost falling once but manages to not fall .

Invar can't dodge arrows, there's no hiding for him so he works through them. Someone likes him as an easy target so he's been shot a couple more times but it's not slowing him down as he keep cutting ropes and sending them back. The moment they're boarded though his attention shifts as he sees the ferret coming. With his foot he flicks the handle of his hammer up to his paw, hauls it up and goes to swing it full force at the ferret with a giant roar.

Aqua nods as she is as gentle as she can be getting an arrow out of someone and then quickly holding pressure to the wound once done.A quick look at the arrow for any odd coloring and she looks up briefly at the fighting and frowns, she quickly goes back to tending to healing needs and tries tto not worry that this could be a day she is a slave again, she hopes that these vermin just go away and leave them alone.

"Grk!" That's the sound of Jarvis' dagger taking the first rat through the neck. He collapses, gurgling and clutching at the weapon that protrudes from the soft flesh at his throat - but the second is quicker. Watching his fellow go down, the searat narrows his eyes and dances out of Jarvis' reach, swinging his cutlass low as he does so!

The ferret rushing Invar realizes that she is in over her head quite quickly. "Help me with th'badger!" She shouts, her voice tight with anxiety. She scrambles backwards, but she underestimates Invar's reach and with a sickening CRRRRRUNCH her toso collapses and she's sent soaring aside. Three more seabeasts rush the badger now, shouting, in a hope to overwhelm him. Aboard the Rusty Treasure, Myra Longfang narrows her yellow eyes, gripping her cutlass a little tighter. "Take th'ship ya rump scum! What's takin' so long?" She shouts, safe aboard her own ship, blissfully unaware of the otters that are hard at work beneath the water.

Beasts on both sides are going down - some dead, others wounded, but everyone plunged into the chaos of tight-quarters combat. Lutea, her back to the railing, twirls her staff above her head and uses its momentum to crack the skull of approaching sea rat, her dagger moving to parry a blow from the side; but she bleeds from a slice at her shoulder and another near her hip, her breathing labored. Otters and pirates continue to clash, battering at each other blow for blow.

Jarvis tenses up as the cutlass sinks into his upper leg, he gives some unotter like snarl and stabs at the rat's chest with his 2nd dagger as his leg bleeds now, but he keeps fighting and keeps his balance.The wound is not as deep as it could be but it will need stitches when this is over.

Invar calmly grabs an otter hurt by the railing and sends him skidding across the deck towards the door in to the ship, both to get him out the way while he faces the three vermin and so he's easier to grab and help. The roar was for show to put a bit of fear of death in to those vermin, so is the toothy grin he gives the trio before he charges forward to join them. He raises the handle of his weapon to block a sword, grabs for the one who swung it, goes to batter him in to his friends and then with a little spring to get the distance needed send him flying back towards the archers on the pirate ship because "I am tired of bein' shot at!"

Aqua doesn't see Jarvis hurt, she is tending to another otter with an injury and frowns as she is unable to help an otter that got an arrow to the chest. She gasps as a rat almost stabs down at her and she manages somehow to kick them out of teh way and the rat ends up going over board into the sea. She goes back to tending to any wounded, mainly ones hurt worse as another otter cones up from below deck, luckly they too know healing and helps tend to the injuried as well.

Brought too close by his attack on Jarvis, the searat doesn't have much time to rejoice in landing a hit - the dagger sinks into his chest. There is a moment of dull-eyed shock before the rat collapses to the ground in a useless heap. Already, another pirate is running to take his place: a ferret armed with a pike. Invar's fight turns bloody and violent quickly - the sword SHINKS as it is deflected by the badger's handle, and then the vermin lets out a pained, terrified cry as he is grabbed and thrust aside. The number of beasts that need healing are growing - it is unlikely that anybeast will escape this battle entirely unscathed... But...

"Why th'/devil/ are ye turnin' this ship?!" Captain Myra Longfang demands, rounding on her steersbeast. The ferret, wideeyed, groans against the tiller, shouting for help. "T'ain't me, Cap!" He pants as, gradually at first but with increasing momentum, the Rusty Treasure begins to spin. Its nose slowly pointing away from the Sun Sail.

"They're retreating!" An otter cries out with a joyful whoop, as several dumbstruck pirates come to the same realization. It won't take long for the ship to be too far away for them to make it back, and several try to scramble back across the ropes. Many are still on the ropes when the momentum of the Rust Treasure tilting away rips the hooks away from the railings (Taking some railing with it), others are left on the ship, blindly trying to fight for their lives. Still others jump overboard - only to be yanked underwater by strong, lupine paws.

Rionach and the other otters of the underwater group surface with rueful grins - the rudder of the Rusty Treasure has been lashed into place and damaged, forcing them into a perpetual turn away from the Sun Sail.

Jarvis frowns and looks around and borrows a cutlass from a fallen pirate and goes to block and stab at the oncoming pirate coming at him, all the while fighting to stay awake. He snorts and kicks over a barrel of apples in hopes of triping a couple nearby vermin to go over the railing, not like the barrel is very full, maybe 1/8 full. He pants and looks around as he sees the pirate ship leaveing.

Invar drops his hammer axe on one of the remaining vermin trio before they can get up again. If that alone doesn't kill them they'll probably have a struggle to get the really heavy weapon off of them while grabs the other one by the shoulder, hit them head first in to the mast and then toss them over board. From there he's on a war path across the deck, clawing down ropes when he comes to them, breaking vermin, drop kicking them over the railing if they don't jump first before he gets to them.

Aqua finishes tending to another wounded otter and looks around. She stands and loads a stone and lets it fly at a rat thats too close to her, and then looks to see whom else needs a healer.

Invar is a one-beast batallion, and the pirates are ground to dust beneath his paws. Jarvis fairs well, too, despite his injuries - his foe stumbles on the apples and falls onto the otter's borrowed weapon - they are realizing that they have lost. One remaining alive drops to his knees in front of the tattoed Taggerung, his paws clasped in front of him. "Take me priso'er! I surrender!" He pleads to Lutea. She stares down at him for a long moment before grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and throwing him overboard. "We don' 'ave th'rations fer prisoners." The otter growls over the sound of a distant 'splash'.

The deck is eerily quiet after that, broken by the splashes of pirates trying to chase down their spinning ship, scraping of the carpenter and her team climbing the rigging to rejoin their brethren on the deck, and the moan of injured beasts. It will be a sleepless night for Aqua, no doubt. "We've slayed demons!" Lutea screams back at the Rusty Treasure as the Sun Sail streaks away from it to safety. "YER NOTHIN'!"

Aboard the Rusty Treasure, Captain Longfang fumes and swears, kicking beasts aside and throwing anything that comes within reach. "Sh-Should I send word t'lieutenant Hooktail, Cap?" Her first mate asks her. "Are ye daft? No, nobeast hears of this, ya hear? Nobeast!" It will take them the better part of the day and night to undo the damage done to their rudder, and the Sun Sail will be long gone by then - flying free and flying home.

Jarvis pants as he drops to his knees and a small smile forms "Ya....we won..stupid..vermin...."He will then pass out, luckly the other healer on board will tend to them and leave Aqua to tend to some others.Thought the 2nd healer will also help best they can, but after tending to Jarvis the healer will need to help an otter with a broken arm, and one with a missing tip of thier rutter.

Lutea · 2019-03-21 10:11:57 PM

The Broken Cutlass
Setting: Graytooth Island

Graytooth Island relies entirely on its ports for its livelihood. The beasts that live there are descended from a long line of seafarers, and while some of them have carved a living into the harsh, island soil, it is rare for them to last long without shipments and trade.

So, the blockade has proven a grave issue.

The Broken Cutlass stalked the waters surrounding Graytooth Island like a wildcat toying with a mouse - the ship hadn't made land since its arrival some weeks back, but it had also prevented any other ships from arriving or leaving. The woodlanders of Graytooth had watched their friends and family's ships make returns, only to be assaulted and sunk without so much as a warning, their cargos looted and surviving crew dragged aboard the pirate vessel and out of sight. Sure, they were used to pirates here, but none with the patience and longevity of this ship.

And never one that flew two flags...

Aboard the Broken Cutlass, Captain Harla lounged in a hammock swinging lazily above the main deck. Her crew has been growing restless these weeks with only the occasional merchant vessel or escape attempt to keep it busy - she could see the bloodlust and wild energy barely contained beneath the surface... It brought a cruel smile to her face.

"Mates!" She had shouted, suddenly, dropping from her place in her hammock. "I think we've squandered abou' long enough, eh? Are ye gettin' bored?" A mighty cheer arose from the deck and the albino ferret turned pink eyes onto the setting sun with a wicked grin. "As soon as th'sun goes t'rest, we make land. Prepare fer a fight, ya scallawags!"

In a cage on deck, a large seagull screeched.

---

The situation had been growing more desperate for the island beasts. With all trade cut off, they had banded together to make sure that the rations that they had hoarded could last them until help came - surely, their partners to the East would miss inquire into missing shipments. Surely, a passing ship would notice their dire straits.

Surely…

The little vole, Bleachpaw, lay in his bed with a straw-stuffed mouse clutched in his paws. He was hungry, but mum and pa had told him that he needed his rest tonight; they would be making an escape tomorrow, and it was to be a grand adventure! They were going to get into a tiny boat and paddle as quietly as they could away from the island, where the ship wouldn’t be able to see them. He would need all of his strength so that he could be brave and help his parents paddle the boat. He would need all of his wits so that he could keep a lookout on their boat, and he would need all of his bravery so that he could be as quiet as possible while they were making their escape.
They would find a new home! One that was covered in trees. Or, they would find beasts to help them get this home back.

That was what mum had said, and Bleachpaw gave a smile as he rolled over, hugging his toy mouse tighter to his chest.

--

The canoes drew themselves into the island’s embrace like shadows, silent and dark. Their oars making no noise as they drifted into the small landing point on the island’s backside; and the pirates knew better than to speak and blow the element of surprise. Their ship was kept, well-lit and partied by a raucous group on deck, in full view of the harbor, letting the islanders rest easy knowing that their enemy was otherwise engaged.

All the while, they slipped amongst them.

Hardly anybeast was out at this hour, but as the landing crew swept into the village, they found a hedgehog maid dragging a heavy wash basin outside a tavern. There were the sounds of downhearted conversation drifting under the door with the light, and the hedgehog grumbled to herself as she threw out the water.

“Excuse me, marm.” Harla greeted her, flicking back her hood with a wicked grin.
“Yes’m, how cin I be-” Her voice died with a sudden, horrified shriek- but it was cut short. Captain stepped over the maid’s body, wiping her blade with a bored expression.
“Mates… ‘Ave yer fun.”

And then the screaming began in earnest.

The night passed in terror and flame - anything that the pirates didn’t want, they burned out of pure malice. Any islanders that weren’t killed in the attack, were lashed together and led to the harbor, and their new lives as slaves.

The sun was hauling itself back into the sky, kissing the sea and Graytooth island with an orange-dipped muzzle. Captain Harla sat back, heavily, in a beautifully crafted rocking chair. She was inside the tavern, where the dead barmaid still lay outside, revelling in the comforts and spoils of land, basking in the morning light as it spilled through the windows.

“Send word t’our Queen.” She ordered, stretching her arms over her head with a satisfied groan. “We’ll rest ‘ere until th’gull returns wi’ her praises - enjoy yerselves, mateys!”

Nodding, grinning with a muzzle full of rotten teeth, her steersrat rushed back into the streets to release their gull with their captain’s message. The village lay in ruin and as he ran, his boots crushed the remnants of the islander’s lives into the dirt: a plate, a painting, and a small, toy mouse stuffed with straw... He passed by the charred, still smoking ruins of a once-grand building - likely the village center. Now it was nothing but a twisted skeleton, the perfect base for the island's new flag.

A pair of eyes, one golden and one red, glaring out of a field of black.

Lutea · 2019-04-09 10:28:44 PM

The Saltlick
Ft. Oskar, One-Eye (played by Lothar), and Lutea as GM
Setting:
|| The Saltlick ||
The Saltlick is an old vessel and a large one; she's been through storms and battles alike, and it shows in the scarred wood and battered railings. Still, the ship is afloat and, judging by the occasional show of lavish wealth scattered through the cabins and decks, in a streak of good fortune.
Two flags fly high above her decks. The first, the colors of the Saltlick herself, bears a white flag with a red-etched horse's skull. The old legend goes that her very first captain was trampled to death by a horse - and there began the ship's long lineage and theme. Their current captain, a piebald searat once called Goresnip, took on the name of 'Hoofmeat' when she came into command of the vessel.
The second flag, of course, bears two eyes on a field of black: one a bright gold, the other a deep, blood red.
||Current Location: Eastern Sea||

Captain Hoofmeat's grip tightens on the railing of her ship, her yellow eyes narrowing dangerously as she regards their prey. "'Ow far off are we, eh?" She demands of her first mate, snatching the spyglass from his claws and squinting at the other ship. "They look fat'n happy." Hoofmeat sneers, still squinting through the glass. "Well dressed wodlanders, th'lot of 'em. They're scramblin' - looks like they're hidin' stuff." She snaps the spyglass away and gives a loud, hearty laugh. "S'a good sign, mateys! Prepare t'board!"

Oskar chuckles as he looks towards where the other ship is "Well, I say all de more reson ta see what they have huh? Must be somewhat important or they wouldn't wanna hide it from us"

Another vermin on board was a rat, he didn't really have a name, most called him One-eye due to his eyepatch, it wasn't his real name...his real name was forgotten after the attck that took his eye."Fat?..Happy?...Maybe they need a diet, we should help them right captain?"

"My thoughts exactly, matey." Hoofbeat laughs to Oskar, her yellow teeth flashing ominously. She claps One-eye on the back. "Best be holdin' onter somethin', lads!" She advices. Aboard the merchant vessel, there is chaos. Calls of "pirates! Pirates! Battle stations!" can be heard from the panicked woodlanders, but there is little more that they can do to prepare. The woodlanders on board are armed, bristling, and waiting for the offending pirate ship to come within range of the sparse archers they have - but they are not ready for the naval ram. The great, wooden obtrusion juts from the prow of the Saltlick, and when it smashes into the side of the merchant vessel. The pirates know to hold something, but the woodlanders on the other ship are scattered across their own deck, screaming, as the pirates are able to board.

Oskar holds onto a railing, he was already holding onto it before they went to ram the other ship.He grins as the woodlands roll around on the ship and chuckles as one even falls off into the sea, hopefully they don't know how to swim too well.

One-eye grabs onto a steady crate nearby and grins,"This is gonna be fun, I was getting a little bored."

The woodlanders rally, though it is already too late for some of them. A mouse rips his scimitar free and rushes One-Eye, an otter charges Oskar, and a hedgehog struggles to latch the door that leads below. The sound of clashing steel and cries of pain fill the salty air, and above the two ships gulls are beginning to appear, circling in the hopes of an easy meal once the fighting ends. The woodlander that Oskar saw plummet to the ocean below does, fortunately for her, know how to swim, and the vole begins to scramble up the rigging on the side of the ship, drenched to the skin.

Oskar rolls his eyes and looks unintrested in the otter and then suddenly draws his cutlass and sidesteps, angleing and swinging his blade at the otter as he likely passes him.He stays alert and his quick on his feet.

One-eye grins and chuckles insanely as he rushes at the mouse and goes to trip him with a footpaw and stab downwards with a couple daggers he slips out of his sleeves.

The otter doesn't just pass Oskar by - nobeast looks /that/ nonchalant in a fight, he thinks! He pivots with Oskar, swinging his scimitar to meet the vermin's cutlass. "Thieves!" The otter barks at his foe. "Pirate scum! Bother somebeast else!" One-Eye seems to have more luck fighting a younger, less-experienced beast. The mouse, barely grown into his sea-legs, expects a fair fight... A deadly mistake when one deals with pirates. He falls to the deck and screams out as the unseen daggers pierce him - he lays dying. "Matthew, no!" Another mouse, one that looks remarkably like the felled beast, screams, and she rushes One-Eye. She is older, more experienced, and grabs a coil of rope from the ground as she runs. Uncoiling it, she flicks her arm with force in an attempt to whip One-Eye off of her downed brother. Hoofmeat stands on the railing of the mercahnt vessel, battling off another pair of beasts with her own cutlass. "Cut 'em down, mateys! We don't need no prisoners this time!" She laughs.

Oskar smirks"Thief...I say finders."He blocks a blade, steps back and slices at the otter" Keepers river dog" He can fight, he can fight well in fact and stay alert, studies the otters moves and he looks for an opening to slice or stab at the otter, blocking when needed as well.

One eye stabs down at Mattew one more time and then flicks one of the daggers at the mousemaid, the rope does make a cut above his already patched eye, he only laughs as some blood goes down his face and backs up to send a kick at the mousemaid.

The mousemaid throws herself to the side to avoid the dagger, letting out another shout of grief and rage as One-Eye stabs her brother again. "Matthew! Matthew, I'm coming." There are tears in her eyes as she pulls a shortsword free and throws herself at the rat! The otter battling Oskar growls. "Lazy freeloaders is all you are!" He grumps, apparently not opposed to a bout of friendly debate whilest exchanging blows. "Ye-" He swings his scimitar up to meet the cutlass and throws his weight forward in an attempt to stagger his opponent. "-Never know th'thrill of /makin'/ somethin', you swine! Only takin' what others-" He gasps in pain as Oskar's blade catches him in the side, and he sways an unsteady step backwards. But he isn't down yet! "-What others've put the work into!"

Oskar chuckles coldly, "Oh..vermin make stuff too ya know.."He then hisses in pain as the blade cuts into his arm which angers him and causes him to swing at the otter a couple times! The cut is luckly not a deep one, but there is still blood and there is still the tear in his favoirte tunic.

One-eye sidesteps and flicks the other dagger at the mousemaid's back.He looks around quickly and kicks a not so skilled vole in the chest and gets the blade they droped "Thank ya...hee hee"

The sudden flurry of blows from Oskar send the otter stumbling back, trying to parry them all. "Oh, like wha'? Disease an' stink?" He demands, hissing as every step sends a shooting lance of pain from the cut in his side. "An'-" His next words are cut off as his paw catches on a body and he falls flat on his back. The mousemaid has to roll to avoid the otter as he trips over her brother's still form. "You scoundrel!" She sobs after One-Eye. The otter's unfortunate fall, though, is what has the little maid in the right position to avoid One-Eye's dagger... Instead, she yanks it out of the deck. "He was barely out of dibbunhood, you monster!" She shrieks, throwing it back at the rat.

Oskar takes the fall as a chance to act quickly and stabs down at the otter while he is on his back!He keeps his eyes on the otter but he does know where the mousemaid is, just in case it's needed to know.

One-eye is a little surprised the mousemaid was missed, and that she threw the dagger back at him.The dagger sinks deep into his knee as he howls in pain and swings his new blade at the mousemaid .

The otter cannot get his blade up quickly enough, and Oskar's weapon takes him through the chest. He gives a silent gasp, his mouth opening and closing in pained shock before his eyes go glassy and his head lolls to the deck. His final grimace is frozen onto his face in death. Oskar won't have long to rest, though. "Behind ye, ye idiot!" It's Hoofmeat, and she appears at the weasel's back. "Hrrk!" Her cutlass protrudes through the middle of a squirrel, his own sword raised behind Oskar. "Ye cin have th'next one." She winks before re-joining the fray. There are plenty of foes to pick from - though their numbers are dwindling. A hedgehog rushes the deck, trying to make it to the door below, another squirrel stands on the rigging, firing arrows into the fray below, and a black-furred mouse yanks his small hand-axe from the face of one of the pirate's crewmates.

One-Eye's mousemaid has gotten lucky so far, but her combat training is limited - there is so much going on, so much to be wary of. She pulls the sword from a dead beast's belt, but isn't fast enough to parry One-Eye's attack. He stabs her through the shoulder, and she screams in rage and pain, weakly swinging her own weapon back at him.

Oskar nods his thanks for the save and scans the ship.A mouse gets brave and rushes him, and loses thier head as he chuckles."Not many woodlanders left now seems."

One-eye frowns "Oh your in pain, let me help!" His idea of help is to go for a fatal stab at the mousemaid and one she surely won't block very well.He grins "Are more...below deck?"Likely ones that can't fight.

It does help, in a way - the mouse certainly isn't in pain anymore. Choking and bloody, she collapses to the side, a shaking paw reaching for her brother's in her final act. He was her brother - he was just her baby brother...

The woodlanders are certainly thinning, but there are still several left: a hedgehog, a squirrel, and a mouse are the most notable fighters that remain. The rest are engaged with the pirates, or lie dying, or - a dagger suddenly jabs at Oskar's back, coming from over the railing of the ship! It's the vole - the one that fell into the water when the two ships collided.

Oskar saw some movement out of the corner of his eye and just barely moved out of the way to avoid a deadly wound,He narrows his eyes and angles and slices at the vole, maybe chop off a paw at least, or if luckly slice open the vole chest or throat.
One-eye grins as he and a couple others go to get the hedgehog that is going to get below deck,He has a blade as he tries to sneak up behund the hedgehog, while another fights him in the front, and stab the hedgehog in the back!
The vole doesn't have a great defensive position - her entire attack depended on surprise, and when that is lost. "Hrrk!" She grabs at her throat as blood spurts around her paw... The vole tumbles back, and a bloom of red radiates slowly into the frothing sea below. One-Eye, on the other hand, may find some complications come with stabbing a hedgehog in the back - their backs stab back! Alerted to the attackers behind him, the hedgepig yelps in fear and presses his back to the door behind him. "G-Go away!" He chokes out, holding a dagger at them, shaking.

Oskar grins as he looks to see whom else to fight and sees the squirrel not too far off"I say one of us take him down and another the mouse"

One eye jumps back some quills in his snout now, but then the hedgehogs back is to the door as he grins, "Ya could always move and let us inside like a nice beast...maybe boss will let us have...one slave"

"Sounds good!" Another pirate, a ferret, grins at Oskar's suggestion. She charges after the mouse, leaving the squirrel to Oskar. The hedgehod shakes... And then nods. "P-Promise you won't hurt me. I'll do anythin', I will! I d-don't want t'die! I... I'm jus' th'cook, I can cook! I can b-bake ye anything!" He steps away, allowing access to the hold below as Oskar and the other pirates do away with the last of the merchant vessel's crew. The ship itself sits lower in the water than it had upon approach, crippled by the Saltlick's battering ram.

Oskar has his blade and heads to the squirrel to fight him, the squirrel is likely injuried some, well its about to be more injuried and likely Oskar is not the only one going to fnish off the squiirel.

One-eye grins and he makes a quick slice at the hedgehog's leg, make it so he won't move.He limps a little as there is a dagger in his knee after all, he never did yank it out and he is a little more relaxed"Will have to see if de boss wants a slave to cook or not"

The squirrel /is/ injured, but she has climbed the mast and owns the high ground, for now. She isn't high up, maybe a quarter of a way, and she clings to the rigging with her feet as she fires off arrows into the pirates below... But she only has one left. She draws back, aiming it at Oskar, and lets it fly. As One-Eye slices his leg, the hedgehog screams in pain, tears streaking down his face. "I d-did as you asked!" He sobs, clutching the wound and trying to roll away from the pirates. "P-Please! P-P-Please!"

Oskar has his eyes on the squirrel and so saw the arrow and was able to sidestep fairly easyly as he glares up at the squirrel,"She can't stay up thar forever I think, gonna come down..or die up thar"

Lothar chuckles, he leaves the hedgehog alone and goes to open the cargo to see what there is to find...more woodlanders to kill or maybe some good supplies.

One-eye chuckles, he leaves the hedgehog alone and goes to open the cargo to see what there is to find...more woodlanders to kill or maybe some good supplies.

The squirrel, her arrows depleted, takes a deep breath... If this is how she is to die, then this is how she is to die. She looks around the deck - her crew dead or dying... Their captain - he was one of the first to go, lying at the helm... No. /No/ this isn't how she is to die! Swallowing her fear, the squirrelmaid glares down at Oskar. "May your journey to the Dark Forest be full of screams and agony" - and she jumps. Grasping ahold of a rope, she is able to swing clear of the railing - and let go. A distant splash sounds her descent into the sea below, and she does not resurface.

One-Eye and the remaining crew find a much more welcome sight in the hold belowdeck. It is packed with goods - spices, fabrics, preserved foods... But there is money, too. Gold and silver and fine silks... This ship was made to carry valuables, and it is stocked to the gills. Hoofmeat, her clothes and cutlass soaked in the woodlander's blood, joins them below and throws back her head with a shout of laughter at the sight. "We'll 'ave Queen Tensil's share, aye, but thar's enough here t'keep /us/ fat an' happy fer seasons, mateys!" She laughs again and claps a beast on the back. "Let's start gettin' it all hauled over. Get to yer feet, ya liverspots!"

Oskar watches the squirrel and chuckles when she is not resurfaceing and goes to jion the others, but he does stop to look at the hedgehog and asks "What about the pin cusion?"

One eye limps down the steps and grins "This is all good, good to share and have..wonder whom this was ta go to...oh well our's now"

"We cin make land an' enjoy our spoils, first chance we get, laddies!" The Captain declares, overjoyed at their luck. "An' th'Queen will reward us greatly for th'spoils we have t'bring back to her. Get it all loaded over." As the pirates leap to her bidding, totting crates and barrels and nets packed full of stolen goods over to the Saltlick, she returns topside. Back on deck, Captain Hoofmeat discerns the hedgehog. "We don't need any more slaves." She decides, and the woodlander's cries of dismay are cut short. The Saltlick will be a merry vessel tonight; music, drinking, and celebration will clog likely carry the victorious scallawags into the next morning.

Hours later, long after the ripples of carnage have stilled and more sinister monsters have cleaned off whatever was left behind to bleed... A canoe rights itself. The lifeboat had fallen loose in the first crash of the Saltlick's naval ram, but it had not drifted far. A drenched squirrel now captains it. There isn't an oar, but she plucks a soggy length of driftwood from her old ship's wreckage, and without another word, begins to paddle.

Lutea · 2019-06-07 12:09:09 PM

Only Rumors
Ft. Skylark

It is dark when the battered canoe finally sloshes into the sands of the Western Shore. For a long moment it is quiet and still, save for the seawater sloshing liberally at its bottom; it’s a miracle that the tiny vessel made it to shore at all.

And then there is movement.

The sailor is ragged and thin, her fur patchy and lips cracked and dry. She doesn’t want to believe that she’s reached land, convinced that this is just another hallucination, another dream laid out in salt and wind… But it’s not.

The mountain is there.

Slowly, the bedraggled sailor struggles to her feet. She falls, sinking into the sea water that fills the canoe, barking her elbows against the wood of the her exhausted vessel, and finally - finally stumbles free of it and into the sand. She lays there for an eternity, or so it seems. Simply breathing, simply feeling something solid and unmoving beneath her broken, ruined body. She stands.

She falls.

She stands again.

It takes the sailor hours to struggle to the docks of Halyard, alive with activity even at this hour. The lights beckon her, but when she tries to cry out, she finds that her voice is hoarse and broken from weeks of disuse and dehydration. She is lucky that an otter spies her, just as she stumbles into the light of the lanterns swinging at the docks, and he rushes forward to catch her. “Hoi, got some… Ah, gods be - HOI!” He hollers to his crew mates, and more otters rush forward to join him.

“Issa squirrel, innit? Hoi, lass, what’s yer name? What ‘appened to ya?” The sailor’s mouth moves, unable to reply, her eyes full of tears, her voice a raspy ghost of salt and fear.

“Get’er somethin’ t’drink - don’t ya know that look, Rud? She’s sea-cast she is, lookit ‘er eyes. Her furs rubbed off from th’sea - get’er a drink. We’ll bring’er to th’Tavern, get’er a room.” She was found by goodbeasts. After all the death, the red-crested waves, the long weeks alone under an unrelenting sun, the mountains of sea that threatened to swallow her with each storm - alone, herself, in a canoe… Goodbeasts.

She loses consciousness soon enough.

---

The sailor flails awake, nestled in clouds - no… It’s a bed. A real bed. The lack of motion sets her to vertigo, and the world churns within her. The otters knew her look - they knew what she would awake to… There’s a bucket there, conveniently placed, and she is ever grateful for it as she retches to wakefulness over the side of the bed. She hasn’t had anything in her stomach to lose for some time, but there is a ladle and a bowl of… She sniffs it. Broth? It’s broth - somebeast had set to filling her stomach while she slept, best they could.

Hunger.

Sunlight streams in through the open windows, and she can smell salt on the breeze, hear the bustle of a town - of /beasts/. Of families, merchants, the distant din of dock workers… Life all around her, after so much death and solitude.

There is a fresh set of clothes folded at the end of the tavern bed, and her entire body aches as she pulls herself into them. They feel foreign against her scarred and patched fur… And when she spies herself in the looking glass, she hardly recognizes the feral squirrel that squints back at her.

The unrelenting sun and sea water had taken its toll her. Pink flesh shows through the patches in her once brilliant, red fur. Below the knees, where there was rarely a dry moment, are the worst - her feet may never fully heal, and she is grateful for the pair of long trousers that were provided. At least the wound across her face hadn’t festered, but it’s left an ugly scar across one cheek, and she touches it with a wince. Her bones show at every angle, any fat stripped away by her time without rations… She barely survived, thanking the rains for the water they brought, and cursing them for the storms that threatened to drown her tiny vessel each time…

But she is here. She made it. Alive.

She has to lean against the walls as she makes her shaky way out into the hallway. The stairs… Are tricky, but she manages them eventually. She is almost brought to her knees by the sights and smells of the bustling tavern; it’s breakfast time, and the air is thick with the smell of honey and ale. She can see porridge and greensap milk steaming in bowls, globs of jams and jellies in every color imaginable heaped beside brick-thick slices of bread, plates of fish from the previous night’s catch cooked, steamed in wraps of seaweed, dried and offered on sticks, baked into pies... Ambient chatter fills the room as a low, comforting buzz, and the squirrel takes it all in with an awed, open mouth for a long moment. Her stomach rumbles, and the world threatens to turn her onto her side once more.

"Oop!" The sound of an already doting voice swoops in through the crowd of mostly-fisher working beasts looking for a hit of food before a long day.

"There you are, luff! Woz wondering if you'd eventually just decide yeh wanted tah sleep away the rest of your new chance at life, eh?" The haremaid that pops up beside her is a bright, golden sand colored doe, her cream white ears leaning forward in anticipation of the squirrels well being."Come now. Let's get you somewhere comfy where you can nip a bite, hmm?" Skylark the barmaid holds out a paw, offering support to the squirrel as she leads the dear towards a comfy booth.

"Yeh've been done fer half an hour, Aart. Scram, willya? Dun' yeh got mussels tah farm?" The grizzled old otter in the wide booth by his lonesome begins to protest, but hefting up his mug he finds it easy. Grumbling, the fisher otter heaves himself up and out of the booth. Skylark glances to the squirrel as she cleans up the table.

"Now. Wot'll it be, luff? Tea? We have honey 'n' bilberry scones.”

The squirrel is still wide-eyed, her mouth agape, as the barmaid descends upon her. She nods, dumbly, and allows herself to be swept along through the currents of the Halyard tavern, one paw always propped against a chair, a booth, a table, afraid that at any moment the ground could buckle beneath her. That she could awake, sputtering sea water, fending off another gull - but the world remains intact, and her weak legs manage to carry her in Skylark's wake to the indicated booth. She settles in, and with watery eyes, merely nods in response to the hare's questions.

Near the bar, a pair of sailors whisper to each other, nodding their way. They aren’t the only hushed voices that turn their subjects towards the squirrel.

"That's th'one, aye? That Rudd pulled off th'beach?"

"Aye, surprised she's still alive. Buy'er an ale on my tab, will ya? When 'Lark spins back this way."

“Lass looks dead on ‘er feet, bless ‘er heart. Put one’a bowl of porridge to her on our coin, Cleft.”

“That’s th’beast they found on the beach?”

“Pirates, I ‘eard. Poor thing - can’t believe she made it.”

And so on.

This, it isn't just scones on the plate when the barkeep returns. The platter set up has a whole plate of scones, still steamy hot. Along with a little tray of jams, a bowl of porridge, a slice of root pie, and a mug of tea with a dish of honey next to it. Not to mention a little plate of dried and sweetened mackerel strips for a kick of protein should she want it.

"Jus' go easy. Yeh've been through somethin' rough. No use makin' yer stomach upset. Dun' need t'eat all of it!" Skylark brushes off the apron she wears over her clothes. Her head tilts a little at the squirrelmaid. "Wot should I call yeh, luff?"

There is a long moment spent in wide-eyed wonder as the castaway sailor simply... Stares. She opens her mouth to answer, and it only comes out as a rasp, her eyes glistening as she looks in wonder between Skylark and the steaming plate... She clears her throat, rasps again, and then shakes her head and holds up a single finger; but the squirrel can't focus on manners for long, as both paws dive forward at the plate. A long moment is spent in simple gluttony, both paws clutching the tea and, finally, breathing heavily, she looks up at Skylark and a small smile breaks her muzzle.

"C- Caillte." She manages, barely a whisper, tears streaked down her red-furred cheeks.

"Thank you."

The barmaid's ears flip backwards, revealing the much more golden color that floods along the back of them. "Easy now," she cautions, but Sky's muzzle is already twisted up as if trying not to laugh. She takes it upon herself to dip a decent amount of honey into the tea and stir it in. While the girl scoffs, her ear turns back as one of the locals offers an ale.

"In a bit, mate. Dun' want the little thing losing her vittles, do we?" Sky pushes the mug of honeyed tea over and nods.

"Caillte," she repeats warmly. "Welcome to Halyard. Have some tea. It'll help that bee in your throat."

Caillte nods, slowing now to a crawl, but still unable to stop eating. She sips at the tea and sets it back on the table with a shaky 'clink' so that she can turn a small, satisfied smile up at the hare. But as she smiles at her, something behind her eyes comes loose with the clatter of a distant plate. Abruptly, she reaches towards Skylark.

"Get away from the sea." She warns, her grip desperate and her quiet, raspy voice low and intense.

"You are a good beast, get away from the s-sea, get away from the /sea/ they are /coming/ they are coming for /all/ of us -" she is getting worked up, her breath ragged. "They will come for you, they will burn /everything/ - it was red, all red, the sea was /red/ -!"

Her belly full, the squirrel, Caillte, continues to drink water (and the occasional cider and ale bought by sympathetic sailors) and the nourishment does work wonders. Her raspy, broken voice creaks out as only a whisper, but her story does finally begin to leak out into the Halyard Tavern…

Skylark is ready to turn and attend to other customers when Caillte grabs her. The hare blanches a little, ears slicked back against her skull.

"I--" she begins, watching the squirrel with a touch of fear in her eyes. "Shh, shh," she attempts to coo and calm. But dismissal? No. The barmaid places a paw to the squirrels shoulder and eases her back down.

"Dun' you worry, lass. I'll have a Long Patrol beast here t'day t'talk to you. They're good hares. Brave hares. They'll protect Halyard." The paw at Caillte's shoulder pats it softly. "An' we'll evacuate if we need, all right? No need tah panic jus' yet." Still. There is a /twinge/ of fear in Skylark's voice.

The break slowly eases from Caillte's eyes at Skylark's reassurances, her breathing slows, her grip relaxes... Slowly, she comes back to herself - what little of herself is left after her ordeal. "Yes... Right..." She nods slowly.

"S-Sorry." A small knot of beasts approach the table, giving a gentle nod to Skylark.

"Lark, we cin handle it." By their rough paws, sun-bleached fur, and hard manners it seems that they are sailors, all of them. An otter gives the barmaid a gentle smile. "We've seen 'er like before." He drops into a seat across from the squirrel.

"Tell us yer tale, sailor." He urges

And she does.

---

The ship flew two flags and took no prisoners. They were ruthless, well organized, and she swears that she heard tell of a ‘Queen’. She escaped alone, hiding in an overturned canoe until she was sure the pirates had finally abandoned the broken merchant vessel. She began to paddle West, knowing she would hit the Mist Isles eventually… Halyard, if she got lucky.

She had been slashed across the face before leaping from the doomed ship to the sea, but thanks to the sea water and a grace of good luck, her wound didn’t succumb to infection. She was weakened by the attack, made more so by the lack of rations or freshwater, but she lived. She made it - she had only a soggy length of driftwood with which to row herself but she escaped.

But the pirates… They were different… They flew two flags, the first was a white flag with a red-etched skull of some sort - it wasn’t any beast she was familiar with - but the other… Black with a pair of eyes: one gold, and one red. They were ruthless, they… Were different. It was different - they weren’t the pirates they were used to… They had fought pirates before… She keeps seeing those eyes...

---

And on her tale went. A spooked sailor, after four weeks adrift at sea following the death of her shipmates, would spout any manner of madness. Still, her story spreads: ruthless pirates, two flags, no quarter taken… Not a wholly uncommon tale at that, though, hushed voices note in the Tavern, whispered over ales: it’s one they’re hearing more often these days, is it not? Bold, these pirates. Certainly worrisome, best wishes out at sea - but did you hear that the fruit vendor raised his prices again? The knave. And the cod tonight, over salted, yeah?

The interest in her tale diminishes as the bar begins to thin, patrons returning to their own lives. The occasional beast offers the sea-cast sailor an empathetic paw - sometimes, sailors are lost. Sometimes, they are found again - she isn’t the only one, but she is of a rare breed. An otter, her face hidden by a hood, offers her shelter until she can find a new job, or the courage (or desperation?) to return to her old one. Caillte accepts - what else is she to do?

Life in Halyard bustles on; some heads ponder a ship that flew two flags, but most sleep soundly. Pirates are not a novelty in these parts.

In Salamandastron, the Badger Lord stirs from a dream, watched by eyes that didn’t see, and Ciocan swipes a massive paw across his brow. They didn’t belong to any beast he knows - he would remember that glare: one eye gold and the other a deep, blood red.

Last edited by Lutea (2019-06-07 12:09:28 PM)

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