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=== A Hard-Earned Break ===

==== ~*~A Tale of the [[Long_Patrol%25E2%2580%259D|Long Patrol]]~*~ ====

'''Starring:'''

'''- Alpine,''' ''a Long Patrol fighter''

'''- Collin,''' ''a Long Patrol fighter''

'''- Torsten,''' ''a Long Patrol recruit''

'''- Conor,''' ''a retired Patroller''

''Logger's Note: This story is a part of a continuing plotline. For the previous installment, click [[Setting_Sail|here.]] For the first, click [[When_Hares_Go_Missing|here.]]''

==== The City of Easthaven ====

Ah, The Prickly Hog! It seems a decent enough pub and Alpine has shouted at the other few hares from the mission to make their way towards it. Alpine, towering over the smattering of both vermin and not, has a nice view of the small little space. It's a smaller place than Halyard's tavern, more intimate with clusters of tables, chairs, and a large hearth towards it's back. The bar lines the leftside wall, and seems to have a decent stock. There is a door leading to the back where the sounds of an active kitchen filter out. A few of the other hares break off to their own table, Alpine making his way to another to plop down into the stuffed couch by the fire, surrounded by other comfy chairs. The hedgehog who apparently runs the joint, hence the name, hustles first to the table with a few hares. Alpine doesn't seem to mind waiting, relaxing and reaching with a foot to drag an ottoman over. The fighter lets out a very pleased sigh of relief to finally be off his feet.

Collin is at neither of the tables! Because he hasn't arrived yet. But when he does, it's of course not to the larger table he gravitates, but rather towards the building-sized buck in the room. He's easy to spot, and sinks down onto one of the chairs, kicking his feet up the couch beside Alpie. He reclines, arms tucking up behind his head. "... /Damn/, it's nice t'be off that ship."

"Isn't it?" Alpine rumbles back, smiling as Collin joins him. The fire is rather nice after getting whipped by cold, salty winds in the last few days. "Dunno if I could live on one of things, as nice as it was at first." Somewhere behind him, another little hedgehog is bringing out plates of fried potato wedges with a sour cream and leek dip. "I want that," Alpine says as he cranes to look around at the plates as they walk past. "I /need/ that." Next comes a bread bowl with some sort of amazing chunky stew in it and a stack of buttered toast with a soft cheese spread. "And that." He looks pitifully at the table of locals that receive the food happily. Alpine whines.

Torsten is Collin's charge, so that means when they're in the city, he goes where Collin goes. At least that's what he thinks? He follows Collin into the pub and then over to the fire where Alpine is. A hare his age would typically not be too familiar with the inside of one of these places, but having grown up in Halyard of all towns, the buck is more than a little comfortable in these environs. Still, he's far from home, and that adds a little to the anxiety of the situation. "The ship wasn't so bad, wot. I've slept bettah, but besides that..."

As Alpine points out one delicious dish after another, Collin's upper body sways with their path, following them with eye and posture. His mouth may be watering. When they are delivered elsewhere, and Alpine /whines/, the buck is stirred into action. To Torsten, he orders, "Stay here, kid. Alpie, watch 'im." With a low grunt he drags himself up and walks over, snagging the hedgehog - carefully, what with the quills - and has a brief but very /serious/ conversation, which involves pointing back at Alpine and Torsten both a coupla times, and a bunch of rather startled nodding from the hedgehog. One can assume that taking Collin's order can be a bit disturbing to the uninitiated.

Alpine is still staring off after the food, stomach grumbling in agreement that, yes, they DO need that. The large buck hardly notices Torsten before Collin calls his attention over. "Huh? Oh," Alpine's one eye falls down on the young buck. "Uh, sure. Hey there, Torsty." He lifts a paw and reaches to ruffle the other between the ear. "Yeah, well. wait until your older, lil' mate. Then we'll see how your old bones react to a rocking ship." He snorts a laugh and glances over, having to move his head far to the side, to spy on Collin.

"Sure thing, sah. Allo, Alpie." Torsten lifts a paw to wave to the big hare, closing his eyes nearly shut at the ruffle, tilting his head away to the side with a laugh. "Think I'll stick to the shore anyway, but it's good tah know I won't get seasick, at least, wot." The recruit has been handling himself well, mostly not getting in the way and listening to orders dutifully. He also watches Collin, his head ever so slightly tilted as he does so. "What d'you think he's ordering?"

Eventually, a deal seems to be struck, and Collin digs out some coin and slaps them into the hedgehog's paw with a grin. When the hedgie doesn't immediately disappear to do their bidding, Collin makes a shooing gesture. "... well go on!" he can be heard to say, and with a start the hedgehog goes. Collin turns back, wiping his paws together with satisfaction as he returns to the table, and sinks down next to Alpine this time, his arm draping over his shoulder. "Hope you're hungry, kid," he warns Torsten.

Alpine laughs and hooks an arm up over the back of the couch to watch Collin work his Collin-y magic. "If I know my Col', one o'bloody everything!" He turns his head to shoot Torsten a one-eyed grin. Alpine settles back into his reclined position and turns his ears up at the other older buck as he returns. "There, see?" Al says to Torsten with a wink... well, it's more of just a blink. "So! Wot's on th' menu, Col'?"

Torsten's ears perk up. "Oh, right famished, sah. Er, I know nobeast was countin' on me being here, vis-a-vis the supply situation, so I wanna say thank ya for supplying the bally vittles, wot!" The recruit is standing straight up and smart, facing Collin fully like he were in a review with some high ranking officer.

Dagda has gone off to secure provisions for the next leg of the journey, but Conor has decided to take a night to pal around with the boys. The door to the tavern swings wide and the middle-aged buck rolls in, grinning broadly as he pulls the rudimentary prototype of a peacoat he wears a bit tighter to straighten out the wrinkles. It's almost a uniform, right? Right? "'Ey, buckos," he greets, making his way to their table. He grabs the back of a seat, spinning it 'round, and plops himself down astride it. Gray fur and blue eyes, one winking at the crew, complete the Fintan features any of them would recognize in Dag himself.

It's... oh. It's amusing. Collin's boot thunks up onto the coffee-style table the couch and chairs are situated around. "I... ordered, well." He tilts his head back so it rests against the back of the couch, looking towards the kitchen. "You know. This 'n' that. The /stew/, though. An' some pot pies." Possibly all of the pot pies. "An' the potato wedges 'n' dip. An' some fritters. Cor, they've got all /sorts/ of fritters. I got all of 'em." His stomach rumbles, and then his head comes back 'round to Torsten. He looks briefly pained. "Aw, geeze. You /have/ to sit down, Tory. Like... you're givin' me palpitations." Finally, after a pause, he clarifies his stance with, "You're /welcome/." Kids. You're just never ready for them, are you? He nudges one of the armchairs, catching sight of Fintan. He lifts his head in a nod.

Alpine lets his head lull against the back of the couch, nearly moaning at the idea of all that food. His foot shifts, nudging Collin. "I love you," he says with a doofy smile over at the other. The buck rubs his paws together before standing. "M'gonna wash off b'fore food, then!" He claps Dagda on the shoulder as he leaves. Then the towering buck wabbles off, getting used to walking on land.

Torsten's eyes widen, widen, and he rubs his paws together. "Cannot /wait,/ sah." Ever so obedient, the recruit has a seat in one of the pleasantly cushy chairs by the fire, leaning in towards it like he's trying to cancel out a few days' worth of sea spray with heat from the flame. "Did anybeast see this slaver ship?" he blurts out, like, in full voice to Collin.

Aw. Collin's muzzle twists, clearly satisfied by Alpine's reaction, sitting forward a bit when the buck heads off to freshen up. His arms drape between his knees, paws clasping together as his attention turns to Tory. At the question, his ears flinch back, and his eyes scan around. "Oy, keep it /down/, mate... Who knows who's listenin'? Bloody 'ell."

"Oh!" Torsten seems to realize he messed up almost immediately after Collin reacts at all. "Sorry, sorry..." He looks around, too, half-expecting to see ten scimitars and cutlasses at his throat. No such bad luck, and he instead faces the fire and leans in close, slouching in his shame.

Hff. Well... man. When Torsten goes a bit slumpy, Collin watches him for several beats in silence, his eyes flickering towards the kitchen as if hoping the food will save him. But it doesn't, of course. "... Well, whatever. S'not likely anyone's listening," he completely reverses on what he just said. He nudges Tory's booted foot with his own and sits up. "You're doin' okay, kid." And just like that, the food /does/ arrive. Or at least the first... half of it? Third of it? It's a lot. Collin starts to salivate, and grabs one of the pot pies.

Torsten's head lifts up when Collin bumps his foot, and he gives the buck a reserved smile. "Thanks, sah. I'm tryin' mah best." The recruit catches sight of the food before Collin because he's facing that way, and he sits up straight, ready to eat. He grabs a bowl of the stew and a wooden spoon, his face lighting up as he's ready to dig in.

"... Yeah." And that's all Collin's got. He digs into the pie, puncturing the flaky crust with a satisfied noise. This is a holy experience. He forks a bite into his mouth and closes his eyes, sinking back. First warmed meal in /days/.

Torsten blows on the spoon, widening his mouth and gulping down that first bite. That first bite is /always/ the best. "The first bite's always the best, eh wot, sah?" He quickly goes into his second one, getting a big hunk of potato and, eyes widening, he opens his mouth and sucks in cool air, jetting out the hot.

"I'm not... 'sah'. I'm just. Collin," the buck in question grunts, one eye squinting open as he is broken from his food-based revery. "'Less you want me t'start callin' you recruit."

Torsten breathes in sharply, then out, in, then out... Until he tests chewing the potato, and relaxes, having cooled the bite down enough for him to eat. "Oh, sure thing, Collin. Though it wouldn't be like the mountain where some officah shouts, 'Recruit!' and then a score of hares all turn tah look," the recruit laughs, spooning up some sort of root vegetable and blowing on it to cool it off /before/ he puts it in his mouth this time.

Collin knows them feels. His muzzle twists, not /that/ far from his recruit days, himself. "Worst is bein' the one not payin' attention 'n' /not/ lookin' when they yell atcha." Same happens with 'Private' now, really. He sits forward, sitting his pie on the table and digging in. It's legit a full-sized pie, but he is totally going to finish it himself.

"Mm, mmhmm," Torsten nods knowingly, nodding the affirmative. He chews a few more times and swallows. "That's really, really the worst. Cause even if they /weren't/ talking to yah, they see yah not payin' any attention and suddenly they are," he laughs, leaning back comfortably into the chair. "I just try tah always be on my toes, wot."

"That... well. It's usually me. That's me," Collin smirks around a mouthful of pie, gesturing with his fork. "The fightin' stuff, eh. That's fine. But all the salutin' 'n' respect nonsense?" Psh. He shakes his head, forking another mouthful in. "Makes no sense."

"I mean, I can see why. Listening's important when you don't know what yah doin', wot." Torsten shrugs in defense of the nonsense. "I hope when I'm an officah recruits show /me/ respect, so I think I'll pay superiors that same respect." He spoons some broth in and actually swishes it around one of his cheeks before swallowing it.

"Well... fair 'nough, mate." Collin chuckles, raising a paw to the 'tender. Because he forgot /one very important thing/. Drinks. "You'll be a bettah officah'n me, that's for sure. You grow up a Patrol kid or sommat?"

"Yeah--" Torsten starts, but decides that, hey, while he's making friends, he might as well ditch the easy responses. "Not directly, no. My uncle helped raise me, and he was a Patroller until he got messed up pretty bad in battle." He shoves a potato chunk in his mouth, testing for temperature this time. "Used to just listen and tah his stories, and when I was old enough, I decided tah join up, wot."

Ahhh. Well, that makes sense. "Not your Da', then?" Collin wonders. "Mum's always said my Da' was a Patrollah. Nevah met the bloke."

"No, my pater's a dock worker back in Halyard," Tory responds. "Sorry yah never got tah know yours," the recruit says, voice sympathetic. "If it helps, I didn't know it took a buck and a doe tah make a kid until later 'cause I never knew my mater."

... Ha. Collin snorts out a laugh. Oh. Oh, Tory. "... Honestly. 'Tween you 'n' Alpie, I don't even know." He leans forward, patting the younger buck on the knee. "Sorry 'bout your mum 'n' all. Da's a dock worker, eh? Gotta coupla friends work the docks. Rough 'n' tumble. Kinda guys you c'n rely on, ya know?"

Don't even know what? Tory looks puzzled for a moment, but it's brushed off. "Don't worry 'bout it. Like I said, I nevah really knew her. She died when I was real young, and since my pater worked the docks, that's where my uncle came in." He scrapes the bottom of the stew bowl for the last of it before seeming to realize there's a /lot/ more food over there. He slurps the spoon and grabs one of those pot pies, biting into it delicately. "My dad works a lot, but he's pretty great. I don't feel bad about leavin' because he's still got my li'l brother, though."

"Ahh, yeah. Well, more powah to you. Siblings, shoot. Who wants all that hassle?" Collin finishes off the pipe and tosses the tin on the counter, grabbing a coupla fritters next. Alpie's totally missing out. "Anyway, your Da's gotta be happy. You off to the Patrol. S'a good place for a buck. Keeps you in line, outta trouble, all tha' good stuff. Keeps you fed, yeah?" In strange and exotic places, even!

"Haha!" Torsten slaps his knee. "Yeah, my brother can be /real/ annoying," the recruit admits, nibbling on the crust of the pie to let some of the steam out. "Oh, yeah, he's proud as could be, wot. Besides," he blows into that little hole he created to force steam out the other end where he'd already bitten. "He lives close enough. So why'd you join if yah don't like all the..." Hm. "Authority?" He bites into the pot pie, closing his eyes and savoring it. "...This's really top-notch scoff."

"... Well." Collin's muzzle twists in amusement at the question. "When I was youngah, I s'pose it was prob'ly a little bit my Da'." Or the idea of him. "But now it's mostly it gives me a chance t'beat on things." He raises his fork in cheers. "It's what I'm good at."

Torsten laughs again, curling forward where he sits, a mirthful expression on his features. "Good! I have a hunch you'll be beating on some faces soon enough, wot." He lifts his pot pie to return the cheers before pulling it in for another bite, more confident that it isn't going to burn his mouth this time. "I don't even have a clue what I'm fit tah be. Maybe a fightah, but I'm not so sure of that." Hm. "...I guess we might have tah find that out soonah rathah than latah, wot." His expression fades to a nervous smile, his eyebrows raised up as he makes an anxious face.

"If it's any consolation, you c'n prob'ly just hide behind Alpie. He's essentially a mountain," Collin offers Tory with a snicker and a grin. /Finally/ the 'tender comes over and takes a drink order. "But you'll figure it out. Maybe you'll be a scrapper. Eithah that or you c'n just... scream. An' scare the hell outta them, 'cause honestly." He has a surprisingly startling scream. He relents with a shake of his head, though, and a shake of his head. "But nah. Don't worry too much. I got yer back, kid. You're, like... my /charge/ or whatevah, so."

Torsten finishes off that pot pie with one overly-large bite, and the recruit nods, covering his mouth but his cheeks visibly pulling up into a smile. He swallows and proceeds. "He's huge. When he grabbed me by my shirt I thought he was gonna toss me ovahboard," Tory laughs out, surveying the remaining food. It's been refreshed! He grabs another pot pie, since Collin ordered so many. "Thanks, Collin. I'll try not tah do anything dangerous." He blows on the pot pie to cool it, still grinning. The guy likes smiling.

"Aw, well. You may've noticed, but he's just like a great big huggable lump," Collin remarks of Alpie with a fond snort in the direction he's disappeared. He'll probably have to go check on him at some point. "Friendly as a pup. An' good. Don't."

"Riiight," Torsten seems content to let that promise go unclarified. "I just hope I don't get hollahed at for being unaccounted for," he states, that thought apparently just now occurring to him. "Being AWOL isn't so good tah have on yah record."

"Nah. We'll vouch for ya. It'll be fine. You're not /really/ AWOL. Just... recruited for an important mission." Sage nod. He seems to finish eating, because he sets aside the half-finished stew and collects his drink when it comes, as well as passing one Tory's way. "'Ere."

"Thanks, but I'll have tah explain why I was on the boat in the first place," Torsten chuckles. He doesn't seem too broken up about it, all things considered. He takes the drink offered to him, having a sip without missing a beat. Maybe it's the frantic need to feel like he belongs on this mission, or maybe it's growing up in Halyard, but he takes the drink without any indication that he's particularly new to the idea of alcohol. "Haha. My uncle'll get a kick outta this one."

Collin grew up in Halyard, too. He's not surprised that Torsten's not horrified. It does earn Tory a grin, though. "I bet 'e well," Collin agrees. And then he sighs, finishing off his drink with one long swig. "I oughta go check on the pup, now I mention it." He stands up. "Stick right 'ere, close with the rest, aye?" He backs up a couple steps, heading in the direction Alpie's gone.

''For the next part of the story, click [[A_Chance_Encounter|here.]]''

Groups:

* [[Long_Patrol|Long Patrol]]

 
[[Category:Magramba]]
[[Category:December_2015]]
[[Category:Long_Patrol_Salamandastron]]